Crap, crap, crap.

The rubber soles of my boots offer no traction as I race down the frozen sidewalk. I slip and my arms flail about like a drunken ballerina as I attempt to avoid falling. In front of suburban commuters on their way to work, no less. My claws would sure be useful right now, digging into the icy surface to prevent me from looking like, well, an idiot.

Jamming my hands back into the pockets of my parka, I continue toward Radley High. Nothing like the family minivan not starting. It's bad enough starting a new school in December as a junior, but now I'm running late on my fourth day. Thank the gods tomorrow is Saturday. Four days in Radley High School already has my head spinning.

And I'm sure the nightmares haunting my sleep are only adding to my foggy-head syndrome. But they are becoming more vivid, and last night I swear I could feel the heat of the wolf's breath on the nape of my neck. Just like the time in Warsaw. But what I had seen outside my window that night two years ago had just been the neighbor's Jindo.

An oncoming gust launches loose snow from the ground like tiny missiles and I squint to retain my vision. I shove my hands deeper into the pockets of my silver parka. Ugh, Dad could've warned me winter here is just the biggest asshole.

I mean, "it's cold" isn't an accurate description of his childhood hometown. This isn't the normal kind of Miyama cold. Nor the cold that sweeps through the forests of Japan during the winter. No, it's Afton-Minnesota-piercing-to-the-bone cold.

The tumultuous, smoky clouds hiding the pale morning sun perfectly reflect my current mood. According to Mom, this week was supposed to be a triumphant new start. Triumphant. Not sure fleeing for my life is any sort of triumph, but at least I'm alive.

My heart plummets into my stomach and a deep ache snaps through me. Mom. The word comes so naturally though only five years have passed since my adoption. Am I betraying Kaasan's memory by allowing myself to think of the human woman in such a way? The question claws at me every time I think of Janice as my mother, every time I call her mom. And the guilt only compounds when I call Janice by her first name and sadness washes over her. Is it wrong to love two mothers?

Laughter fills the air and my pace slows. Three rosy-cheeked kids are pulling woolen hats over reddened ears while their dad attempts to wrangle them into the car. One of the little boys drops into the snow and lays stiff as a board. Something Eiko would do. My older sister loved to piss off Kaasan.

Naked trees line the avenue in front of their house. The way the frost turns their white bark into glistening silver is breathtaking. But they aren't real trees. Real trees are wild and unruly things, giants towering above the world, their massive brown limbs blotting out the sunlight. They guard the lives hidden within the forests, keeping the secrets of magical creatures.

I swipe at the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

I miss the ancient forests surrounding Miyama. I miss home.

Life was so much easier as a simple red fox. No magic, no ability to shift. Just hunt, frolic, and sleep. But no, the universe chose to bless me—the most curious of foxes—with gifts. More like curses. And now, Raiju nor his master will rest until I'm dead.

Pulling my coat tighter around me, I move along and brush away memories from years ago. Thin ice at the corner of the street cracks under my feet and my boot sinks into a small puddle below. At least my boots are waterproof, or I'd be marching my ass back home. No way am I wearing wet socks all day.

A familiar growl hangs in the air like a slowly building storm. A deep, low rumble. So primal. So focused.

Panic sweeps through my body like icy, liquid metal and threatens to swallow me belly first. The wind blows in the wrong direction and the air is too cold, too dry for me to pick up a scent. The growl erupts into a vicious bark and my chest tightens as my lungs seize.

Raiju. He's found me.

My feet are heavy and won't budge, as if they're cast in stone. The pounding of the beast's paws against the pavement thunders as he gets closer. The sharp snapping of twigs cuts through the air. Sweat drenches my skin. The thumping of my heart vibrates in my ears.

I sway and bump into a parked black sedan, my shoulder bag hitting the ground. Each second brings the beast closer. My fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into my palm. I can almost feel the flecks of saliva as it froths at the mouth, eager to rip me to pieces just like he did my sister.

Sharp prickles cover my skin as fur forces its way to the surface. My canines elongate and my gums itch like they've been bitten by thousands of mosquitoes. I double over, hands slamming into the ground. The cold does little to soothe the intense scorching of my insides.

Chikushō! This can't happen here. What if someone comes around the corner and sees me?

A guttural yell rips from my throat as I force myself to stand and race across the street, skidding to a stop as a bus hurtles past me. I'm not going to make it. I round the corner, polar air shocking my throat and lungs as I inhale deeper, faster. I jump behind the thick hedge of an empty house up for sale.

My knees slam into the ground, eyelids squeezing shut as wave after wave of excruciating pain crashes through my body without mercy. My clothes slip from my limbs as bones crack and shift allowing straight legs to shorten and become curved haunches. Fangs replace my human canines and rounded ears become long pointed ones, tipped with black fur. And sleek fox fur covers my once naked skin.

My slim body quivers, poised for the coming attack. My fur, a magnificent rustic blend of copper and red, stands on end. I could vanish in a second, darting between the trees lining the suburban town like a little red phantom. Instead, fear freezes me, colder than the air.

The wind shifts and my sharp nose catches a discordant scent. Instead of the metallic scent of blood, the stench of stale urine, sweat, and recently gobbled kibble saturates the air.

Figures.

A hulking bullmastiff careens around the corner and down the sidewalk without a leash. He lunges, his teeth grazing the white tip of my tail. I dart back just in time. His hot, moist breath against my tail propels my legs into action. I sprint into a row of trees. While it may not be the beast of my nightmares, this four-legged mutt is no less dangerous.

The dog's breath comes in ragged pulls as it pursues me, but the sound no longer makes me cower. I push my lithe body to its limits. Flinging myself at the nearest tree, I claw my way up its rough bark. The icy covering hinders my grip and I fight to heave myself out of reach.

I haul myself up onto a branch as sharp claws scrabble at the trunk below. Hideous barks and growls pain my ears. I look down and yip in laughter. Good luck hauling your fat ass up a tree, you slobbering brute!

"Bruno!" A shrill, human female voice cries out.

I slink back, curling my tail around me the way humans pull their blankets tight when they're scared as if the material has some magical power to protect them, to make them invisible. The dog reluctantly returns his front paws to the sidewalk, whining as he stares up at me in the birch tree.

A woman dashes into view. Her stout body is encased in a bright pink parka. She grabs the dog's meaty body and hooks a leash onto his collar. He makes another lunge at me, and she yanks the leash. "Bruno, sit still! You know you're not supposed to chase those things."

My nose wrinkles.

Ms. Terribly-dyed-platinum-blonde-with-dark-roots-sprouting-from-her-big-head should reconsider who she's calling those things. Jeez, even her face appears unnatural as if her skin has been pulled too tight. And her oversized plump lips look like they're ready to pop.

The woman squats in front of the dog and flicks his nose with her fingers. Bruno snuffles and lowers his tail between his legs. The woman wraps the leash around her fist and yanks the dog away, her head swiveling in a circle. "Thank god it's just a fox. I swore you ran after that little girl."

My hackles raise as my spine curls. If only the wind had shifted sooner, I could've been more in control of my fear, remained in human form. If Bruno's owner saw me shift, the God of Thunder's hell beast wouldn't be the only being I'd have to worry about. Every human in this town would be hunting me.

When the dog and his owner are gone, I claw my way down the aged bark, leaving jagged scratch marks in its woody flesh. Inhaling and exhaling at a slow rate, I pick my way over the grass, my tail flicking lightly behind me. How do dogs bred as companions to humans maintain their fantastic sense of smell? Shouldn't generations of dependency on humans have dulled their senses as it dulled their hunter's pride? I mean, how hard is it to find a bowl of kibble in the kitchen?

Once I'm hidden in shelter of the hedge where I transformed, I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp air. My sense of smell remains sharp no matter which shape I wear, but I swear the air tastes better as a fox. As I breathe out, the coarse ember fur retreats beneath my skin and my bones crack like they always do when I change back to my human form. Agony is the only word to describe it—both physical and emotional—like dozens of needles piercing skin to plunge into my heart. Tears fill my eyes as my paws shift into hands and feet, my bones elongating into fingers and toes.

Humans cry about one broken bone. Yet, whenever I shift, all my bones break and regenerate. They should try being me for a day.

As soon as I can bear to move, I rub my hands over my shoulders, attempting to chase away the chill flowing over my human skin. I slip back into my clothes, pulling them straight and smoothing my hair into place. I use the window of a parked car as a mirror to double-check no kitsune features linger. Perfect. No one can tell the difference between me and the humans of this town.

Except for Raiju.

A shiver runs the course of my entire body, the image his sapphire eyes rise in my mind. Strings of muscle and flesh dangling from his sharp teeth. Blood splattered across his thick, white fur. My family protected me. They fought back against the demon beast, giving me time to run away. And run I did. Like a coward.

A tear breaks, leaving a trace on my cheek like rain on a dusty window pane. Eiko died for my mistake and I never looked back.

A distant clap of thunder rolls across the gray sky. The God of Thunder's narrowed eyes and toothy smile curve in my mind. And will you run again, little fox, leaving your new family to take the fall?

My chest tightens as if my lungs are slowly filling with water. I inhale, but the air just won't go in. My fingers claw at my thighs.

It was just a dog. You're safe. This feeling is only temporary.

I inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The past is back in Japan. There's no need to look over my shoulder anymore. No need to watch my every step and sniff the wind for signs of danger. The entire Pacific Ocean lies between me, the gods, and their demon hunter.

I trudge toward my shoulder bag, which is lying in a half-melted puddle, grabbing and opening it to inspect the contents inside. Of course, the corners of my sketchbook are mushy and ruined. Can this day get any worse?

I sling the bag over my shoulder and speed off toward Radley High. Thanks to Bruno, I'm a sweaty, shaky mess. And no matter how fast I walk, I can't get rid of the overcaffeinated feeling.

My boots crunch against the snow, the entrance to the two-story, stone, Italianate school building within sight. Inside clusters of social groups will continue to watch me—the new girl—to figure where I belong in their dynamic pecking order. And if I'm not on my game, they might figure out I'm not like them.

Sucking in a deep breath, straightening my hunched shoulders, I march up the stone steps. My classmates aren't gods. I have nothing to fear.