Rain stops. Nara stomps the puddle — SPLASH — and freezes. Bright red footprints march across the wet moss, each three times bigger than her shoe.
Mía whispers, "Those aren't bear prints." All four squeeze into the mist, shoulders touching, breathing close.
The mist thickens. Trees blur into gray smudges. Bombo's boots squelch on every step. Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
The footprints vanish — then reappear on a tree trunk, upside down. Nara reaches up, closes her fingers on a cold drooping twig, and breathes out slow.
The mist parts. Hundreds of mushrooms glow blue-green, pulsing like slow lanterns. In the center, a tiny fox curls in a shallow den, ears flat, shivering.
One mushroom flickers. The fox lifts its head. Its dark eyes find Nara.
The fox bolts — paws skid on wet stone — and ducks under the lowest mushroom. Nara presses her palm on the cold ground. "Easy," she whispers.
Nara bends and presses a smooth river pebble into the soft earth. The fox yawns, shows tiny teeth, and curls back down. Soft, steady rain fills the whole sky.