Beautiful Moon

The moon.

She could feel it in her fur—a piece of her essence, of her soul, threaded to the star in the sky that watched her every move like a parent on watch. The moon shape and its yellow diameter were even omnipresent in the fur of her belly, ubiquitous. When she was a cub, she didn’t often see the star; only the sun, persecuting, mocking. She hated its rays, loathed its radiance; how it exposed everything, the horrible and the ugly. Thus, the first time she observed the night, it was when she fell in love. The starry heavens, the absence of lighting, the claws and milky eyes glowing in the darkness, similar to the one that visited her every time she fell into her slumber. Beautiful, worthy of a landscape indescribable by her mere words and growls.

It was in one of those gorgeous nights, bathing the marble walls and rocky scrubby ground at the tip of her heel, that she met her. Those ruby eyes that pierced into the gloom, even into her soul… they were the scarlet flames that radiated from her muzzle.

She walked carefully. Stomach roaring, black eyes on the prowl, searching for any food she could snatch. Her fingers; long claws created for a single purpose, twitched at the abdominal pain. Each footstep was that which echoed in the blackness, vigilant in the pitch dark. She could barely glimpse thanks to the rays of moonlight. Crossing a hallway, she beheld the light—it startled her, and she recoiled, heart pounding. It could be a camerupt, a houndour, or an arcanine. She unfurled her claws, sharpened them on each other… bared her teeth and raised her hair.

Orange flames filled her vision, curtain-like. And when they faded, crackling in the air with their amber sparks like the sunset’s color?

Her mouth went dry, the smell remained scorched, for her soul was pierced by both scarlet eyes. She made eye contact, ignoring how the flames illuminated the front of her body, with her golden fur, with her long mane blanketing her neck, down to her fluffy crest and her nine tails swaying behind her. She lost her breath, mingled with the muskiness of the residual smoke. But the daze was temporary, fleeting, just like the dry sensation in her mouth—which was replaced by saliva running down her jaw, by her guttural growl. No matter who she was, how much she might interrupt in the darkness, she was an invader… a corrupter of her home. 

The blood in her eyes pulsed red, the scarlet within her veins flowed to her fists. With a roar that could stir anyone in the abyss-consumed room, she steered with the moonlight —which always, always guided her, her most valued pokémon— to brandish her gray razor blades and slash, slice through her golden hairs, stain them with the ruby that were her eyes until they would not cease to bleed aquamarine. She did not make the effort to step back, because in her eyes… there was a look that for her —an ursaring— was foreign. Beyond comprehension, of the same emotion as the moon, but deeper, further…

She halted, inches away from slitting her face, from splitting her muzzle in two with her brute strength. She panted, guttural, as if she hadn’t had a drink in centuries. With her gaze trapped upon her, she listened to the rummaging within the skin—a sphere of hide hung from her torso, with a brooch of a piece of a metang, but discolored to the gray of her claws. What she offered her…

Was a fruit. Pink and green-stemmed, sugar she could smell as if it embraced her own nose. She sniffed, her hand dropping to catch that held by the paw—nor did she care for the lack of resistance, for in her mind she was clouded by the sweet. That taste graced her tongue, coating her palate. Better than any food she had ever had in her lifetime. Immediately the black spots in her irises softened, and stepping back, she gazed at the barely visible creature before her gaze.

The tips of her muzzle lifted. “Good?” was such a simple question, with such a cold tone. Yet it was incomprehensible—the words came in through her ear and out the other, like an alien language, something beyond her mortal grasp. 

She cocked her head in response. She grunted, soft and confused. She was aware that this was an enemy, an invader, so her fur remained on end; her eyes never straying an inch. No matter how much food she had offered, she was waiting for the guard to come down and eat her bones, that much she knew as clear as day. Before waiting for a response, she growled—now menacingly, standing on tiptoe to prove her point. 

She averted her gaze —and her head— to the side. She had exposed her cheek, just as a cub would. “I know you probably can’t understand me, but…” she muttered, and grumbled. Nothing made sense, much less that which she couldn’t bring herself to hear. Again, there was that nuance there—it was intriguing, like she was being slaughtered, but she didn’t have a wound, or any pain. It went deeper than that. She brought a paw to the base of her muzzle, gripping it with her stubby fingers. “…This is so stupid, why did I think this was a good idea?” she sighed, frustrated as if she had failed to catch prey, and reopened the sphere of fur hanging from the brown tail tied around her midsection. It was hard to glimpse, but what she deposited on the ground…

Rolled up to her, and with a glint in her dead gaze, caught the new sweet fruit between her paws. Still in razors, she sunk her fangs in. The juice coursed down her throat, her tongue, bathed it in its sugary taste, until it held nothing but pleasure on her roof of her mouth. She didn’t even bother to raise her eyes, watching her walk beside her. Her hair stood on end, but…

She did nothing. She just covered her face with her paw, shielding her eyes. “Take it as an apology for wasting your time,” she huffed, and with a couple of blinks, she left down the hallway… not before giving the ursaring a sidelong glance. “My name is Ninetales, though… I don’t think we’ll meet again,” she chuckled, “nor will you remember,” once again, that bottomless depth. Endless… bitterness.

She grunted in puzzlement, glancing out of the corner of her eye toward her—she had already vanished, not golden fur leaving a trace. Yes, the words had echoed in her mind, for that was her kind.

…

She rose. What a strange situation. But that invader had been bathed in moonlight, had been bestowed upon her; from paradise, an unprecedented confection. The ursaring departed, once again, into the darkness.

---

It happened weeks later. The night descended upon them all. It blessed them with its secret, with its mystical aura of gloom that suffused them with pure darkness.

She was squatting. She devoured her food. It was pulpy, raw and savory, with its hint of steel, with its coppery aftertaste. It was delightful, it filled her senses… it was home. The moon was watching her with satisfaction, for she was honoring it. This meal was for the moon. She knew it was, she knew it was its blessing, its gift. Happiness burst in her chest, a bubbling emotion that painted her entrails with colors, that crinkled her eyes. She tore with her teeth, resting her claws on the food to hold it firmly in position. 

And yet it was again that she heard it.

That she felt it.

As clear as day, radiant as the sun—it was the flames that lit the way, the corridor from which the golden and orange like a forest fire proceeded, like the flowing river laden with sweetness in her skin. With pupils growing small, her vision blurred for a mere instant, she turned her milky eyes toward the figure drawn in shadow, shimmering in the moonlight, the natural contrast of her yellow fur swaying to one side in the wind from the other.

The eye contact was intense and long-lasting.

“Oh. It’s you,” she squinted, glowing with recognition. “Wait, wait, before you do anything…” she could already see the ursaring coming, of fluid dripping to the floor from her lower jaw. So in response, she rolled the fruit to her position, tapping her foot.

She had already hunched over. She had already shown and sharpened her claws, feeling her stomach growl, her hair bristle, for before the moon was an intruder that, though mesmerizing, dead was to be found. But she fell silent, gave in when the temptation rested in front of her fingers and she could not restrain her salivating. She bent down, bit and devoured until not even the stem went down her throat. She glanced up, to be greeted by those rubies. They were penetrating. They peered straight into her soul, shining in the moonlight. 

She had stood in front of her. That breath knew no terror. It was even haughty. It was bizarre. It made her feel strange. “Are we even, then? I don’t think we need violence, not… not between us. Not you.”

She stared at her.

She quirked an eyebrow. “…Right, you can’t understand me,” she kicked the ground, with a droopy-eyed sigh and ever-so-slightly frowning brow. “I don’t know what I expected. Again, I don’t know why I came here, if I don’t even have the guts to… to—”

She leaned in to sniff her.

She was aromatic.

She startled, though. All her skin tensed. “H-HEY—!” she shrieked. But she didn’t budge a muscle, so, for her, it was free passage to continue to absorb the natural fragrance hidden among her fur. 

She was floral. 

She saw her fur react to the shiver. “T-Too close—” she murmured, exhaling, it was even shaky. “This is what I get for trying to talk to a feral— I am a dumbass—” she lowered her head, frozen.

She was like lavender.

“H-Hey—” this time the voice was tremulous. Like prey, but in those moments, she didn’t perceive her that way—she had already offered her food, after all. “I-If—?” with a loud cough —which made her cease— she cleared her throat. “…If I give you another magost, can you… can you stop doing that?” 

The ursaring merely looked at her. With a few more inches of distance, she finished sniffing her. Her stomach growled, but she waited patiently. Perhaps, if she sat in front of her, she would be afforded another treat from heaven.

“Good!” too sharp. She cleared her throat again, red glow —clear in the dark— under her golden fur, coating her face, moving down to the front of her throat. “Good. I can give you another one. Just. Just don’t do that again, it’s… weird…” her tails swayed. It was hypnotic.

Her trance was disrupted when another berry rolled to her feet. Sitting cross-legged, she snatched it up and in one bite devoured it. She ignored how, out of the corner of her eye, Ninetales flinched at the scene, avoiding looking to where the ursaring was. It was delectable on her palate, it was exquisite. She could weep with joy. She grunted, satisfied.

“I… I see you like it, perhaps… too much,” she exhaled, long and hard. She rose, her golden fur rippling in the gentle breeze that was present in those days where the moon drenched them. Now both of them. “I…” she looked up. Her yellow hair hid her eyes, her features, that look of… something. “I couldn’t do it today either,” she laughed, the same shade as her voice. Hardly a laugh at all.

She tilted her head to the side. How incomprehensible. All invaders were but she was more so. Not even the moon was capable of unraveling the mysteries behind that abysmal depth.

Ninetales shook her head. Reaching inside her swollen skin sphere, she pulled out an orb. Aquamarine, transparent, like the bluish sky, not like the starry one that hovered above them. She laid it under her paw, and with a sigh… she shattered it. The light that emerged enveloped her, thus, in withering illumination, she left.

---

It was yet another night of beautiful silver blessing the sky, bringing the stars. Even, with her eyes, she could visualize the constellations… though they changed each time, thus missing their point. The seasoned taste on her tongue mingled with the smell of copper, she burped; satisfied. But there was no nourishment that could satiate her roaring belly—she never knew which day might be her last, or when she might find food again, not without having to fight, at least. 

She pondered, deep in her heart, whether the scarlet irises would make their presence known that night. It was similar to a pattern, or perhaps it would be broken, never to be seen again.

The flames disproved that.

Her gaze lifted, as did her head. She released the marble remains of her food. This time her hair did not bristle, but her claws remained curled into her palms. Her actions would depend on one thing and one thing only. She rose from the ground, kicking up dust with her weight. She approached toward the light, crossing the hallway —stalking, following in the gloom. She knew where they were headed— a room of stinking stench, which anyone would avoid under any circumstances. Even items knew to avoid it.

That’s where she ended up. “…” she breathed out sparks of fire, illuminating the dead-end wall she had run into. “Of course,” she sighed heavily. “How is it possible that of all the dungeons I always get—” she grumbled, but the moment she exhaled more flames through her nostrils, she turned her head… making eye contact. Her red eyes dilated at the sight. She froze.

She breathed out in front of her. Her breath fetid and moist. She hunched her body to meet her height. She didn’t even bother to blink, that was higher than a mere staring contest, no, it was something more. 

The night was shroud, it was peace. Not a hint of noise, not even drowned out by the walls… though her ears twitched at the distant footsteps. She waited for one heartbeat, then the other, filling the stillness, but no sweet was offered to her. She witnessed her breathing quicken, grow pale. No matter the depth, in the end, she was an invader, an intruder of the light. She growled, grim, and raised her claw to—

“W-Wait—!” she exclaimed, backing away. Her tails bristled, ruffled like her fur. The ursaring halted—mostly because of the soft cry, for disjointed sounds had no place in her worldview. What made her take a step back and yield was, however, the sound of skin stirring at the opening of the sphere dangling from her chest. Between both front legs —trembling— she handed as an offering a pink, green-stemmed fruit like fresh undergrowth.

She froze in position, the explanation being bewilderment. Slowly, she lowered her hand to, instead of slicing as she had hoped to do, catch the fruit between her paws. A single squeeze made it squirm, releasing its tasty juices that soaked her brown furry palm. She brought her hand to her maw, in one bite devouring down to the stalk, and stuck out her tongue to lick up the rest of the fluid that slid down her wrist.

She sighed, “again I didn’t dare to…” the depths of the well once again crawled. So lonely, so bleeding, it really was beyond comprehension; just to see that expression, to hear that tone, perplexed her. “It doesn’t matter. At least there’s someone I can talk to—” she shot a glance at her, but immediately formed a grimace. “Sure— good idea— I’m going to talk to someone who can’t even understand what I’m saying, great idea, me…” there was a certain odd undertone, but if she could describe it in flavors, it would be bitter. 

She sniffed the juices and water of the consumed berry still staining her claws. It was sweet, like syrup, like honey—which she had tasted only once, as exquisite as the flavor that lingered on the tip of her tongue, painting her palate. She took a whiff, and cast a glance at the Ninetales. She cocked her head, trying to understand, to no avail. It was a hunt without prey.

“And it’s already a coincidence that we’ve met three times already…” she lowered her head, frowning. “And that not once did I…” she tightened her mouth into a thin line. There was that nuance again, so unfathomable. She exhaled—rage, but at whom? Perhaps the invader had shown her true colors, and the pattern had come to an end. “If it happens to me again I swear that— that…” her ears fell. “Agh. Who am I kidding?” she shot her a look. “You, will I kid you?” she huffed, and hiding her eyes from the world, she rummaged through the brown-skinned sphere, stepping on the orb which enveloped her in light.

Thus, again she was gone. Still dazed, she raised her eyes to the moon. She asked if they would cross paths again, perhaps the next night. She pondered that, perhaps, this was the silver’s decision.

---

“Again…?” This time she mumbled through her teeth as their gazes met once more. She loomed, watching the movements of the invader—was she coming in pursuit of the moon, or against it? Was she coming to offer her exquisite gifts, or would blood be spilled instead? 

Those questions were complex. So she jumped to the first option; to the routine, to unfold her claws and bare her teeth. Drool and fluid dripped from her gums, milky eyes riveted on her. But in a blink her pupils dilated, for a fruit showed itself. The scent was unmistakable, the soft touch was too… she licked the skin of the berry, even that scraping her tongue with sweetness. The tips of her claws made room in its pulpy interior, and she took it into her mouth, absorbing every possible drop of water inside, chewing fiercely.

“How is it even possible…?” she seemed oblivious to the stench of the horrible room—the ursaring was capable due to the promise of soft nourishment dancing on her palate, but she didn’t understand the Ninetales’ excuse. She just watched her pacing, back and forth, with a conflicted expression. “Already three times was weird, but a fourth?” she stomped, forcefully—getting the ursaring’s attention. “And I couldn’t even do it— you’re already eating a magost, and me? I’m just delaying the inevitable because I’m, I’m—” her ears flattened against her temples. “…Don’t look at me like you know what I’m saying— or like you want to. You have no name, no story, no… no… no…” she choked on her incomprehensible words, those had the power to end lives. “…No, that’s not right. Even a creature like you doesn’t deserve to be called that,” she sighed.

She tilted her head to one side. With a confused grunt, she leaned toward her for a closer look—

The soles of her paws pushed her, so very, very gently, backwards. “Don’t do that— I know you’re a feral and all, but I don’t want you to get too close either,” she blinked. “…Why am I telling you this? You can’t understand me… right?” she lowered her paws. “Right? Can you say a word, or— or imitate? Something like that?” she looked away. “…I’m even embarrassed to admit that, after all these years, I’ve never tried to talk to a feral before.”

She was greeted by silence—a soft grunt from the ursaring.

“Right, no answer—” she hummed. “But… it’s even, I don’t know,” she made an odd gesture —as if something fell out of her hands and she was trying to prevent it— with two of her front paws. “Is it… kind of comfortable? No,” she shook her head hastily. “It’s not comfortable, by Arceus what the hell am I thinking— I’m talking to a feral, it’s not comfortable talking to a feral—” she hung her head. “…It can’t be. And I can barely see your face.”

She sure could see her face—just that, and fragments of her frontal area. Those were illuminated, like a spotlight, by the moon.

She narrowed her eyes before letting her head back with a sigh of exasperation. “I should be going. But really, what else do I have to do besides being here? It’s just going to be more boring weeks until it gets dark around here again— so no dice, I guess I can stay a little longer—” she startled at the slight movement of the ursaring. “Hey, hey, hold still, let me—” she rummaged through the lumpy sphere of pelt. “You want this?” she waved the fruit in front of her face. “If I give this to you will you leave me alone—?” and her strange sounds were interrupted by the ursaring, which lunged muzzle-first to catch the berry.

She nearly tore a finger off her paw.

She stepped back, “alright— I won’t do that again, I get the message,” she cleared her throat. “Jeez. I get it, you don’t need to be so…” she paused. “…brute—” she gritted her teeth and made a sound of frustration, like one who fails to catch their prey—but she had made no mistake. On the contrary, she had endowed her with the sweet taste. “Of course I say that to a feral, I’m so—” she took a deep breath. She pulled another berry out of nowhere, and rolled it over.

Her ears perked up, and dropping her weight on all fours, she ran to chase the sphere throbbing with flavor. She caught it with her teeth, her body skidding forward and curving her whole form to prevent anyone from snatching what was rightfully hers.

She watched her eat, from a safe distance. “…Still, it’s odd.” that icy tone made its return, softer, much more subdued, but omnipresent; assailed by doubts, and the profound, the unfathomable. “That we’ve met four times already is…” she drew in a deep breath, and raised her gaze skyward. She laughed. “How silly this may sound, but… maybe it’s fate.”

---

It was peculiar, how since that time she began to visit every night. All the silver hours were pervaded by the light, which brought home the sweet blessings out of her world, from her perspective. The moon always watched her with anguish, but she knew the Ninetales could bring no evil—there was no malice in her eyes, only that depth that was as indecipherable as the first day she had met her gaze. It was there with each visit, but the more time passed, the more it melted into warmth. 

Over the days, over the weeks, she began to recognize certain sounds—tied them to meanings. “Hello, I’m back,” indicated the beginning of the conversation, hearing it made her ears twitch because it warned that the light had already reached the dungeon. The room of stinking stench was their sacred space. The dwell times grew longer each time, a string of disjointed sounds to which she had learned to respond—with a sideways movement of her head, and as long as she sat in front her, trying to mimic and understand the sounds, she would receive all the nourishment she desired. Her stomach growled, but not from emptiness, but from gratification.

Occasionally the Ninetales would sit in front of her, tails waving behind her —barely visible in the moonlight— and stop to show her objects.

“Magost Berry,” she repeated for the fifteenth time for that night, a vein throbbing in her forehead.

She tilted her head, for, surprise, the fifteenth time. A confused grunt was elicited from her throat, tilting her muzzle to sniff the fruit. It smelled mossy, sticky to nearby nostrils.

“Magost. berry,” she repeated. This time more firmly than the last. She tapped the base of the treat with her paw showing palm up, impatient in her idle motion.

She responded with a friendly grunt. Perhaps that was what was needed to create another new series of sound chains. At that point it had become a hobby—to stir up new strings, to discover them and, perhaps in the future, their possible meanings. All of it was an enigma.

“…What are you happy about?” she asked through her teeth. She sighed, “You’re the worst…” she shook her head, a slight smile on her muzzle. “I can try again later, I’m not your teacher either, you know—?” she blinked, eyes widening. “Scratch that, maybe I am. It’s nice to have company, at the very least, even if you’re not the biggest chatterbox,” she chuckled—she could remember that icy tone from the early days, now it was more similar to the flames she used to guide her way. “But better this way— you listen and I’ll tell, doesn’t that sound like a good plan?” handing the fruit in her hand —which the ursaring devoured in a few moments, the Ninetales just watching with a smile— she leaned back, belly displayed to the side and head raised, but neck closer to the ground. “And if you insist so much… I can tell, yes. Because I absolutely can’t wait to tell you things,” she chuckled.

With the corners of her mouth stained, she glanced, confused. She looked around, searching for whoever had sent her to sleep, but found no one in the cursed room. The only possible guess was that the Ninetales trusted her enough to show her belly… There was a silver moon too young to be allowed to slumber. She sat beside her, following her gaze—perhaps she could see something she couldn’t, something hidden, something only the light could glimpse.

“You know, when I was little— very little, I didn’t like the night,” she lowered her gaze, eyelids dropping to a midpoint. There it was, the depth once again, now with an abysmal hint of longing. “My parents used to tell me that the evil gengar of the woods would come out of the shadows to eat my soul. They were very superstitious, but who wasn’t back then? People have mellowed over the years but I remember back in the day no one wanted to live next door to a ghost guy—” she shook her head, “neither did I, for that matter. The night was where everything evil roamed; the forest shiftry that would come to claim the wood from the trees of our homes, or yveltal that would come to harvest your soul if you misbehaved. Even the shuppets— I once got mad at a friend and they put all the fear in me that if I kept going, that grudge was going to end up in one of the wooden soldier dolls and they were going to hunt me and my friends at night,” she laughed, covering the end of her mouth with her paw. “I can’t believe that made me reconcile with him— fear, it’s funny, isn’t it? It’s been there all my life, all my…” her gaze went white, cloudy. She tensed her neck, grimaced, and lowered her eyes to the ground, hiding the ruby behind the long fur that fell over her face; her golden crest. “Even all these nights. Haha.” It was dry.

She could notice something different—the one that was as diffuse as the sounds themselves. Some repeated, some sounded familiar, but in the end it was all shrouded in the sea of the nonexistent, the unknown. She just moved her head horizontally. That tended to work.

She looked up at her, frowning; brow raised upward and the rims of her eyes pointed downward. “Thank you, thank you… don’t worry, I’m fine,” she choked out her words. “Don’t… you can’t worry anyway. But it’s alright, that… this is enough,” she sighed, and allowed her head to fall back up. “To think that this is enough now…” she laughed, slowly, and without energy. 

“…How beautiful is the moon tonight.”

“M-Moon.”

As the words were spoken, time stopped for a few moments. She repeated, slowly and barely, guttural sound rising from her throat, but that word sounded so powerful—the sound was everything. Even if she was unable to comprehend, as she followed Ninetales’ gaze to the star that watched over them from the starry firmament, something clicked inside her—she got it. The one, who bathed her in silver, who had given her the darkness through which she walked like a magikarp in the water… that was the moon.

Her moon. Bright. Radiant. Perfect. Could she touch it, could she reach the moon? Could she make it eternal? It was more dazzling than the scarlet that pervaded its gloom.

The Ninetales grabbed her shoulders —eroding her fur, unfurling her claws— with widened eyes. “What did you just— Did you just say a word? Finally? A word?” was the opposite of abyss—it was light, shone blinding and infinite in her eyes. “Did you speak? S-Say it again! M-Moon!”

“M-Moon.”

“Moon! Yes! You really have spoken— it’s been…!” she recoiled, bursting into laughter. “I don’t know how long it’s been, but finally, finally I’m not alone!” she sniffed, and clicked her tongue. “It wasn’t magost, that we were practicing nights on end— but whatever! Whatever! You know how to talk— a little, step by step, and we can have a real conversation!” 

So much was the contrast, that it made her eyes enlarge as well. Blinking, several times. It was… captivating. 

She laughed, and smiled. “I think a special occasion deserves something special, don’t you? How about…” her tails swept the floor as she began to hum—long and slow, until she clicked her tongue. “Ah— with a name! Yours, for you!” she rested a paw on her right shoulder. “Because you said moon… how about calling you just like that? Moon? It fits!”

“M-Moon.”

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

---

More and more nights passed since then. She learned, from that day on, that what the Ninetales—

“Lux,” one night, while teaching her words, she pointed at herself with both paws, keeping her balance with her hind ones. “Luuux,” she repeated.

Moon cocked her head to one side. They’d done that a multitude of times before, but this time there was no target item… just… her.

“L-Lux?”

“Yes! That’s my name— my real name. Say it again, go on, say it again. Lux,” she repeated, lengthening the letters to accentuate her point—whatever it was. The toes of her padded paws twitched, still pointing at her. “Luuux.”

“L-Lux,” she pointed toward the Ninetales—to Lux, then pointed toward herself. “M-Mooon.”

She nodded, quickly—that was what the sideways movement was called. “Yes, exactly! Well done, Moon!” with a sly grin, she opened the “bag” of “leather” and threw a magost berry at her, this one spinning in the air. “Catch!”

That word meant it was time to eat. She leaped into the air —sinking the rock beneath her feet— to catch in one mighty bite the pink-colored fruit. With open mouth she chewed. The habit of getting on all fours to protect her food with her whole body had been taught to her by her mother, when she was a small teddiursa cub with no ability to get food for herself. 

“Well done, Moon—” Lux watched her eat. She was taking her safe distance—she was aware that if she approached, she would be greeted by a deadly growl. She had learned that the hard way. That’s how the silence remained… until she broke the rules, for with a step forward, she approached. 

Moon had ignored her, so far too inundated by the taste to care who tried to approach to snatch what she had gained from her understanding of rare sounds. More however, when she noticed the paws in front of her —illuminated by the hint of moonbeams— and she set out to growl, she felt warmth above her head.

When she raised her milky eyes, she was greeted by the golden paw resting atop her skull. It was impossible to miss how soft she was, how silky her hairs were, how she gently kneaded her fur, brown hairs passing through her toes. Immediately the growl choked in her throat.

“…Huh. You’re… softer than I expected,” she commented, stunned. Gawking, she kept her paw kneading. Like that…

For a long while. She listened to the sound of multiple tails wagging. 

She had no complaints, it was comfortable. She allowed her head to tilt towards the paw, moving her head to try to encompass her cheek and forehead, similar to a gentle head-butt.

Lux was still gawking. But, underneath the fur covering her cheeks, Moon could see a red glow of the same intensity as her eyes; progressively increasing. Noticing it, she couldn’t help but grunt in confusion, and point. “E-Eyes?”

“E-Eyes?” sounded lost, and suddenly, as if breaking a spell… her eyes widened and she retracted her paw. “Ah— Ah! Ah— y-yes, right, uh… eyes! Yes!” she coughed. “That was…” she blinked, loudly. “Uh. That was. That was…” she took a deep breath, and gritted her teeth, looking away.

She leaned forward. She missed the kneading sensation in her head. She reached out with her claws to grab her paw.

Stirring up more red from Lux. “A-Ah—?! Wh-What…?!” seeing Moon place her paw back on her head, she looked away again, and muttered… “a-alright, alright. Sure. Sure. No problem.”

And she went back to kneading. Moon closed her eyes, satisfied.

“…Alright— Maybe… I like this.”

---

Since that starry silver-lit day, Moon noticed how the kneading of her head became a daily occurrence on every night of her visit. Also, progressively, Lux became more… confident. She was already able to display her belly, without fear of death or attack, but now she became more attached to Moon—she broke the rules of the gap, so as not to be attacked; she even gloated in doing so, rubbing her head against her side or lying next to her, resting her head against her shoulder when Moon sat down. 

But, if she was honest, she was now getting more magost berries so she could accept the ongoing invasion of light into darkness.

It was on one of those days, when Lux had ended up resting her body on top of her belly, tails gently wagging and curled back on herself, jaw on brown fur —weight was not an issue, Lux was light— that, with a murmur, the abysmal depth returned to her voice. Yet even with so much time, so many words learned; she still couldn’t fathom the depth of that bottomless pit. “…You know, Moon?” 

Her ears twitched at her name. Without raising her belly she lifted her head to look at her, chin touching her own collarbone.

“When I came here, I didn’t come to meet you. 

I came to die.”

Even without knowing its meaning, the word made the air heavy.

“I didn’t have the guts to jump into a lake, as my kind seems to like to do… so I thought a dungeon could finish me off. It could end it all… this… years, and years, of nothing, but absolutely nothing.” She whimpered, pitifully. “But even that I couldn’t do,” she cackled, “pitiful, isn’t it?” She lowered her head, hair hidden by the golden crest. “…Because when I saw you I panicked right away and gave you a fruit so you wouldn’t kill me…” she snorted—amused, in longing. “When I was a child, my parents said that dungeons at night were more dangerous than during the day— night in a dungeon was so abnormal that it made them even more deadly. But… but I met you, and I…”

She sighed—long and drawn out.

“I was born when empires still existed. You don’t know what they are, but they’re old— very old, over five hundred years. I was stupid, as a child, and I evolved— my friends. My parents. My village. The empire we lived in— everything died, and only I was left. Alone. Five hundred years of roaming. I tried to meet other ninetales, I really did, but they were all like me… they had lost too much for anything to matter to them. I just wanted to reunite with them, wherever they were, at least one more time… that’s why… that’s why… But… you. You, Moon.”

She looked into her eyes.

The smile was soaked with fresh tears, drops of water falling from shining eyes.

“You saved me. You were my first— well… you were my first friend for five hundred years. And even though you can’t understand it, to me you mean… you mean the world. I haven’t been able to say it until now, but… thank you, Moon.”

---

That night the sky was bedecked with a full moon. It was seldom seen, elusive, enigmatic as it was—but even more gorgeous. They were alike, really, with their goldenness; though in the satellite’s case, it bathed everything around it, painted everything in the dungeon. 

“I think… I love you, Moon.”

That was not the usual greeting—that was easy for the ursaring to notice. But that was not the source of her confusion, but something much more severe, much more dire; the lack of the satchel hanging from her neck. It glowed by its absence —the sweet fragrance. Her mouth salivated at once— she even looked around, searching, yearning, for that fruity taste that could compare to nothing but the blessing of darkness itself.

The light had invaded, and without a gift through which to pierce into the darkness. 

“Yes— I know— it’s a bit rough to say, when I’ve just come in after several weeks because there hasn’t been a night in a dungeon for quite a while, but—” she clutched a clump of hair from her chest with her own paw. “It was something I meant to say, because— because… I hope you can say the same thing about me, too. I want you to say the same thing to me, I wish you could— but— but—” she gripped harder. “What if you don’t? What if you only accept me around because of the berries I always bring you…?” she seemed to even shiver—a delicate flower in winter. “Is it really something that simple— you mean so much to me but I mean nothing to you?” she shook her head, closed her eyes tightly. “But it’s not like that, is it? It can’t be like that. That’s why I didn’t bring anything today— because I know our bond isn’t so weak as…! As to be nothing more than a transaction! Right?”

…

“…Right?”

It came so hesitantly that even she could feel the pain behind it.

She searched for answers. Answers to meaningless questions. She glanced up at the heavens, the cool breeze blowing the hairs on her neck down. 

With each throbbing, the moon grew sweeter and sweeter, like the taste she missed on her palate. More, and more. The moon was the ruler of all domains, of all forms of life—and she….

She could tell—she was beautiful. Mesmerizing. Her golden fur was a contrast to existence itself. Her scarlet eyes bore into her soul every time. She could listen to her teach disjointed words night and day, for all eternity. Be bathed in her light.

But it could not be so. Time had passed—too much, and now it was clear, a fundamental realization, free of the haze that was the sweet… in the end…

She was an invader.

As she bared her teeth, she saw it—the dilation of her eyes, the growth to tiny red dots. The second after, she released a guttural growl, for the next—

Her vision flooded with crimson. Her fur became soaked. By the time she blinked, the agonized scream and the throbbing scarlet mark diagonally across Lux’s face was brightened by moonlight. Her legs collapsed, eyes barely open as her breathing quickened as drops of taste descended like rivers to the ground. But what was descending down her face was not that, but… her translucent tears. “No…” she whimpered, as faint as the sound of the breeze. “No… no…!” she immediately hiccupped.

She towered over her. Moon was darkness. She had always been. She would always protect the most precious thing, her beloved… beloved moon. Until death. Until infinity.

And then…

Lux started to laugh. Hysterical. “Is this how you were seeing me all this time? me thinking— thinking—” she spat red, the slash had reached all the way to her throat. “No… so that’s how it was… to you I was just… a food dispenser who, once I had no more to offer, was just more prey for you. No more worthless than a speck of dust,” she paused. “Is that it?! Is that it, is it?!” she cried.

She replied with a roar. She could barely comprehend. But she… her eyes and cheeks felt wet, too. She stepped forward, but Lux didn’t back down. She let the spit fall and drip to the floor, she could already taste the flavor.

Then she saw her break.

Smiling—blinder than the sun, crinkling her eyes. The depth returned her gaze… That’s when she realized what it was.

Sorrow.

“And yet… I can’t be mad at you.”

She parted her maw, approaching to the exposed head.

She sighed, trembling. “Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted…?” she looked into the maw, into her black abyss, her fate. “…And at least, we can be together until the end.”

CRUNCH.

…

It wasn’t long before the sound of broken bones and torn flesh filled the cursed room with copper stench. For there was one thing there, and one thing only.

An ursaring devouring a precious corpse. One taste she will remember forever.

Their union watched by the moon.

Oh, beautiful moon.