The murmur of water was constant.
The waterfall that hid the entrance fell with serene strength, like a veil separating the outside world from the small inner sanctuary. Inside, the humidity formed pearls on the stone, and the roots of ancient trees hung from the ceiling like living curtains.
There, wrapped in a torn celestial cloak and covered by dry moss, the wounded young man lay motionless.
And beside him, never leaving for even an instant, was the little white fox.
Xiao Huli —though she did not yet know that name— kept her body pressed against the boy's, giving him the little warmth her weak Qi could generate. She had carefully gathered aromatic leaves, just as she had seen humans do from afar. Sometimes, she went into the forest to find glowing mushrooms or fresh water, then returned running with her small bundle tied in a vine.
She didn't know why she did it.
She didn't know who he was.
But when she looked at him, with that peaceful face even in pain, she felt the world made sense.
In the second week, he opened his eyes for an instant.
Golden eyes, deep, full of strength and… emptiness. He managed to murmur something, unintelligible, before fainting again. The little fox brought her muzzle close to his forehead. He was burning up. With great effort, she bit off a piece of spiritual ice she had saved from a previous night and gently placed it on his forehead.
She didn't understand words.
But she understood pain.
By the third week, he moved again. He murmured something clearer:
—…father… the rift… the seal…
His fingers clenched tightly into the earth. The little fox placed her paw on his hand, calming him. She didn't know what a rift was, or a seal, or a father. But she knew he was dreaming of something that hurt him inside.
And that hurt her too.
By the fourth week, he awoke completely.
His breathing was slow, heavy, but his eyes were open, shining under the bluish light filtering through the cave's entrance. He sat up with a groan of pain. Then he looked around, confused, until finally his gaze met that of the little fox.
Silence.
Long, deep.
His lips parted.
—Did you… save me?
The little fox tilted her head. She took a hesitant step toward him. He slowly extended his hand and gently touched her head. She trembled… but did not pull away.
—You have spiritual Qi… but you're not an ordinary beast —he murmured.
He stopped.
Then smiled, weakly, but sincerely.
—Thank you, little one.
The little fox stared at him.
Then, with clumsy movements, she crawled onto his chest… and fell asleep on top of him.
Days later, now recovered, the young man had lit a small fire in the cave, using ignition stones he still carried. As he cooked some medicinal roots, he spoke naturally.
—My name is Jiutian, Crown Prince of the Celestial Realm… though I doubt that means anything to you.
The little fox watched him, sitting elegantly as if she understood every word.
—You… remind me of someone —he said, with a distant look—. Of a story. Of a legend.
He fell silent.
—A thousand years ago, in the Great War against the demons, a clan of lunar beings descended from beyond the heavens. Foxes… with nine tails. They sealed the rifts of the underworld. It's said their princess was devoured by the shadows… But you…
She blinked.
—Could you be…?
He laughed, tired.
—I'm delirious, aren't I?
She walked closer, placed her little paw on his knee, and made a soft sound… not quite a growl, but an attempt to communicate.
Jiutian lowered his head. He touched her again.
—What should I call you?
The little fox tilted her head. Her eyes reflected the moon beginning to peek through the cave's opening.
He smiled.
—Xiao Huli.—My little fox.
And for the first time in her life, she felt that name was hers.