Will-O-Wisps

It was here in these quite places that Koimata felt most at ease. Places where memories didn't flair up like hidden images, flashing through his mind, drawing a tangle of emotion from deep within his chest clawing and scraping, yet, offering little as to why they were important in begin with. He seemed no closer to discovering his past, the fog so impenetrable that at times that he was close to giving up entirely. But, then he would catch a glimpse of himself, there in a still puddle of water, chasing behind him in panes of glass, and he'd find the questions returning, the uncertainty, the... alienness, and it would begin all over again. Even now, as he walked deeper into the hills of the forest, the dark strands of hair caught feebly in the pale light cast by his flames, and he reached up, pushing the long hair back. Not too far ahead, the trees began to thin out, the bobbing lights growing brighter as they came down to hover upon the surface of the pond. He had swum here more than once, dried his clothing on the smooth rocks and explored the pool of deep blue water. He hadn't been brave enough to venture down, small in comparison to the vast caverns that opened up below. Stepping down to meet his guide, he brushed his fingertips against the cool glow, bouncing them away, watching as they twirled and spiraled before kneeling down. Twin ears twitched at each sound, so alive to the closed-off crimson stare beneath them. Reaching up, he pulled the kitsune mask down, the smooth black porcelain sliding across his face, swallowing the silent growl that twisted his lips. Frustrated.  Maybe he had missed the first sounds of something approaching, but, when it came close enough to hear the crunching of leaves beneath an uneven gait, Koimata's eyes darted up, the lithe creature tensing up, ears perking forward even as his tail fluffed up in surprise. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice low and raspy, the whimsicial movement of the orbs growing still, like miniature suns hovering over open water. The scent was rich, a layered palette of smells that could only arise from the choas of civilization. It did not belong to the forest, not in the way his own often did, and that was enough to make him wary.