The depth of the night, the music filling in the air, the fading chatters, and increasing distance from the people brought Bai Huiqi a strange sense of discomfort. It could not quite be called fear or paranoia, and he did not have a name suitable enough to give it yet.
Still, silently and carefully, he followed after the older fox spirit as he led them both away from the fair and more towards the sprawling landscape covered in forest, trees, and silence of the slumbering animals.
As he stepped on a twig, causing a faint noise, Bai Huiqi raised his head to look at the nine-tailed fox spirit's back. It was straight, proud, and strong. Yet again, Hu Lijing had nearly all the qualities he wished to possess. Biting his lower lip, the fox spirit of winter carefully swallowed, his lips moving as he spoke quietly.
