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10 years ago

R acing down the stairs, my footsteps echo through the foyer as I run for the kitchen. I slide across the tiled floor, rounding the final corner into the berry-and-syrup-scented room. Today is my birthday, and I know Ms. Coleman will have a big plate of blueberry pancakes just for me. When I make it to my favorite breakfast spot, a stool at the island in the middle of the big kitchen, where I can watch Ms. Coleman work, I'm not disappointed.

I dash over and throw my arms around Ms. Coleman's middle. Her kind eyes gleam as she looks down, shooting me a smile and hugging me back. She may not be my grandma, but I've always wished she could be. Ms. Coleman is the nicest grown up I have ever met.

“Good morning and happy birthday, sweet girl,” she says, as she pats my head.

“Good morning, Ms. Coleman.” I give her one more big squeeze and then let her go.

“Wow, the big one-oh, I can't believe you're already ten. Before you know it, you'll be as old as me,” she chuckles. “Now go eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

I make my way back to where my amazing stack of yummy pancakes sits and hop up on my chair. It doesn’t take long before I’m scooping the last of the blueberry pancakes off of my plate and into my mouth.

Ms. Coleman’s chuckle draws my attention to where she stands near the stove. I take the napkin from beside my plate, wipe my face, then grab my glass of milk and take a big drink.

“That was sooo yummy! Thank you for making blueberry pancakes, they’re my favorite!”

“I know, sweet girl, that’s why I made them. So, what are your plans for the day?”

I want to respond to her question, but I can’t because something weird is going on inside me.

It feels like someone else is in my mind, like I’m worried and excited all at once.

Then it hits me.

My tiger is here!

I thought it didn’t happen until I was sixteen, but I can feel her spinning and yipping in my head. If I focus on her, I can almost see her, tiny and red orange.

But where are her stripes?

I look up at Ms. Coleman, barely able to contain my excitement. She’s still watching me, waiting for my answer to her question.

“Guess what?” I whisper-shout at her.

She’s a little startled by my question, but still responds, “What?”

“My tiger is here!” I yell out.

I’m shocked when Ms. Coleman's face is sad and maybe scared instead of happy like me. She quickly crosses the kitchen towards the pantry before opening it and grabbing a picnic basket from inside. Without a word, she begins packing it with picnic supplies. I’m still confused by why she is acting like this, but I don’t say anything because something is obviously wrong. It doesn’t take too long before she has the basket slung on her arm, standing at the door that leads out back, signaling for me to follow.

We’re about halfway across the huge backyard when my patience wears out.

“Where are we going, Ms. Coleman? Why are you acting weird? What’s wrong?” I don’t want to whine, but I am.

It’s hard not to when the baby tiger in my brain is yipping and hopping around like a crazy person. Ms. Coleman turns, and I think I see a tear in her eye before she quickly swipes it away. She pulls me in for a quick hug before she responds.

“Shh, child, just come with me. We’re going to have a birthday picnic, and I’ll explain everything.” With that, she turns away from me and again we’re walking quickly to the forest's edge.

The second we get beyond the tree line, my tiger doubles her efforts to drive me insane.

I fall to my knees and clamp my hands around my head, internally begging her to stop.

Something I do must work because she calms down enough that I can think again.

When I look up, I’m shocked to see that Ms. Coleman now towers over me. Looking at my feet, I try to understand what I’m seeing. I’m even more surprised by the four white paws I find there instead of my usual favorite sparkly pink sneakers. It takes me longer than it should to realize I’ve shifted because these are not the paws I expected.

Where are my stripes?

I spin in a circle. Somehow I’m chasing not one tiger tail, but four fluffy red tails with white tips.

Oh, my fates! I’m a fox!

I yip at Ms. Coleman, but when I look back at her face, I can see that she is now openly crying. I don’t understand why she’s so sad.

My fox is so cute! Why would anyone not love her?

I try to rub against her leg to provide her some comfort, but she leans down and scoops me up before gently placing me in the picnic basket alongside the food.

“Stay quiet for just a minute, sweet girl. I’ll get us somewhere safe.”

Safe? Why wouldn’t we be safe?

The rustling of the food and other picnic items around me is super loud to my new fox hearing. Even with the sound and smells overloading my senses, I can still hear Ms. Coleman’s sniffling as she shuffles through the woods to our mystery destination.

After what feels like hours, but could be just minutes, she finally comes to a stop and sets the picnic basket down.

When she lifts the lid, I once again lose the fight for control, because my fox takes over, and we pop out of the basket, landing on the ground with a roll before taking a few excited leaps. Ms. Coleman's chuckle gives me all the permission I need to give in to the moment.

We run, hop, and yip around the small clearing, finding a butterfly to chase and a toad to spook. When we finally tire of playing, we curl up on the big rock Ms. Coleman is sitting on and lay in the sun, just enjoying the day. I must have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes again, Ms. Coleman is now crouched in front of me, gently petting my head.

“You ready to shift back and talk now?” she asks, with a sad sort of smile.

I stand up and stretch out before giving her the best nod I can.

“Okay, just close your eyes and think of what you want to happen. Then take a few deep breaths and open your eyes.”

I do as she says and close my eyes. I imagine coming back to the front of my own mind. It’s a strange feeling to only just now realize I was kind of in the backseat of my own brain. I picture shifting back into my human self, with my long black hair and green eyes. When I’ve taken a few deep breaths, I open my eyes and look down. Thankfully, I’m back in my human form and I’m proud that I did it just like Ms. Coleman said. My happiness is cut short when I look back at her and she has a very serious face.

“We need to talk,” she says as she takes her seat next to me on the large rock. “I assume by now you realize you are a fox like your mother instead of a tiger like your father?”

Her question catches me off guard. “What do you mean? Mom was a fox?”

“Oh dear, I could just throttle that man. Yes, your mother was a fox, actually, shifter foxes are often called kitsunes. Unlike most other shifters who typically shift for the first time sometime between sixteen and twenty, kitsunes shift on or around their tenth birthday. We aren’t sure why fate made you that way, but they also gave you another blessing. A physical sign of your fated mates. I think you saw that you have four tails, and that means some day, when fate thinks you’re ready, you will meet four fated mates who will have a soul deep connection with you.”

I nod, trying to follow along.

Mates?

Like with an s?

Does she mean boyfriends?

I never knew girls could have more than one boyfriend, never thought about it, really. To be completely honest, I’ve never even really thought about boys like that. I try to calm my racing thoughts and tune back into what Ms. Coleman is saying.

“And so he must never see your fox form, okay? Your father would be very upset and we don’t want to make him mad, do we?”

I must have missed some of what she said, but I quickly agree. We definitely don’t want father to be mad. He’s scary when he’s mad.

But why would he be so mad about my fox?

Probably because I’m not a big strong tiger like him.

I settle on this explanation, but something about it feels wrong. It's nagging in the back of my mind that I should probably ask Ms. Coleman to explain more.

But I don’t.

And that silence.

It’s still chewing at me a week and a half later.

I’m sitting on the floor of one of the fancy sitting rooms playing quietly with my stuffed tiger and I cannot stop thinking about my fox. My father being angry if he saw her may be a good enough excuse for me to not shift, but for her, not so much. She’s pouncing and yipping and begging to be let out. I’m so distracted by her antics in my mind that I don’t notice I’m backing up. When my back hits the side table, it’s too late. I hear the wobble before, the telltale crash of a probably expensive glass breaking.

Oh no, what did I do?

My father’s pounding footsteps echo down the hall as he heads my way. I’m already on my feet, cowering and backing away from the scene of my crime when he rounds the corner into the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” He screams at me before charging across the room and grabbing me up by my arm.

“Ow, Daddy, please stop,” I cry out as he drags me back to where the vase lies shattered on the ground.

“I have told you, call me Father only,” he growls, shaking me slightly. “Now tell me, what were you thinking? Why would you do this?”

I’m shaking slightly. My fox cowers in our mind, searching for an escape.

I know the moment she finds it, my eyes lock on the swinging door just outside the room.

That door leads to the staff quarters. Down that hall is a door leading us to the exit. To freedom.

Internally, I beg her to stay quiet and wait. I even promise her we will sneak out later if she can just stay hidden.

But it doesn’t work.

Before I know it, we’re in fox form, darting over the broken vase and through the door, racing for our freedom.

Unfortunately, as usual, luck is not on my side. I’m almost to the door that leads outside when my father’s massive tiger form leaps over me, turning on me with a heart-stopping roar. I freeze, cowering and making myself as small as possible while he shifts back to human form.

“Shift back. Now,” he says, with a cold edge when he’s back on two feet.

I’m still frozen, huddled in a ball, unable to respond. He picks me up by the back of my neck and when I’m eye level, he repeats himself.

“Shift. Back. Now.” Each word hits me like a whip, and without my consent, I’m shifting back.

When I’m standing before him again, he grabs me up by my arm once more and drags me through the house. We pass the entrance to the family wing where our rooms are and through the main part of the house, not stopping until we are standing outside the door to the oldest and least used wing. He pushes the door open, then roughly shoves me through, keeping me in front of him until we reach the door at the end of the hall.

“You will remain in this wing until further notice,” his tone leaves no room for arguments, not that I would either way.

He finally releases my arm and crosses to the bed where an outfit lays. It’s seemingly the only new thing in this room. There’s a long-sleeved brown top with brown leggings and a pair of socks. The most curious part, though, is the gloves. A pair of what almost appear to be evening gloves, like ladies wear to fancy balls.

“You will keep yourself completely covered at all times. You are no longer permitted to take your meals in the kitchen; they will be delivered to you. And let me make myself perfectly clear when I say no daughter of mine will be a whore with four fucking mates,” he sneers. “If you find so much as one of them, you had better reject them instantly because you won’t like what happens if you don’t.”

Tears fall down my face, but I continue to remain as quiet as possible, hoping this will end soon.

“Now, tell me, child, who helped you conceal that abomination of a fox?”

Fear grips my chest. I won’t tell him who. I can’t. What if Ms. Coleman gets in trouble?

“Ahh, I know, it was that old bitch in the kitchen. Wasn’t it? Well, no mind, she will be taken care of.”

With that, he leaves me in my new room and as soon as the door slams behind him I fall to my knees. I bury my head in my hands and sob. I cry for myself, but mostly I cry for Ms. Coleman. I don’t know what father will do to her, but I know it won’t be good.