Kitsune

Silk whispers against chestnut feathers. The smooth stone of this little nook, a mere cup within the wall of a much larger cave, cradles the tiny sound and blends it with the measured breathing of the dragon curled within. Warm lamplight gleams on russet and cream fur and twinkles among the rows of tiny golden discs strung at veil and wing. The Skydancer settles herself more comfortably and with a graceful twist of her wrist wraps the dangling silk safely around her forearm before picking up a little pot shaped like a plump pangolin and letting a few drops of water patter onto the inkstone. From the low table before her she selects an ink stick. The faint, unhurried shushing of stick against stone joins the soft chorus of silk and feathers and breath.