The village

It is said that deep in the snowy mountains there was a little village that lived off the land, whether it was chopping wood or ice they made the ends meet and lived in peace. Some of them said it was thanks to their own hard work that the village was prosperous but others prayed and smiled at the little bell swinging within a shrine at the center of the village. The village head's daughter specially took great care of the wind chime, gently wiping its surface and keeping its flower ornament from slipping down. The little lady would always join in praying to the wind chime but more than often it looked like she was directly talking to someone.

But the village's happiness didn't last for long. Tragedy struck the village, demons to be precise. Between the grief and shock the remaining survivors ran down the mountains in search of help. But it was the little lady of the village who first stopped at the shrine and gently tucked the wind chime into her lapel. Even as she fled along with the other villagers, she still took a little piece of her home with her.

Eventually the survivors spread apart and carried on with normal lives. The little lady grew and got married to a humble hunter. At the door of their home she hung the little wind chime, now praying to it for her husband's safe return. So on the seasons came and went, with the soft tinkling of the chime swaying to and fro at the door.

The boy

One day though the wind chime was taken off its place by a boy with the little lady's eyes. The boy prayed to the little trinket, as he had been taught since he was a small child, and tied it to his belt. The pair traveled far into the mountains, the crisp air covering the wind chime's head in a soft layer of frost.

As the boy shivered from the freezing cold, for some reason he didn't feel all alone, at times he would turn around. It seemed as if someone was always right behind him. At some point the boy went from walking to stumbling and eventually to falling upon the soft snow. With heavy breaths he prayed to the little wind chime clutched in his hand for…anything. At least that helped him fall into a placid dream of someone with bright, clear eyes covering him with a fur cloak and getting him to safety.

Thankfully the boy was saved by a group of hunters passing by. The little wind chime was left buried in the snow letting out a soft tinkling from time to time resembling the crunching of little steps upon the snow.

The foxes

Maybe it was fate or chance but one day the chime's tinkling was picked up by a fox's ears. The animal picked up the battered chime and took it to its den, where its children would play and roll around with the amazingly sturdy wind chime between their paws.

More seasons came and went. The fox became an old fox while the kits grew into full fledged adults. Eventually those kits came back to the den with their own children and so on. The wind chime stayed and watched over them just as they had done with the little lady's family.

Even though it had been decades since they had been prayed at by humans, they still managed to manifest a full body of their own with a cold but gentle glance and a pair of triangular ears at the top of their head.

One day one of the fox's grandchildren stared for long and hard at them before asking,

"Do you have a name?"

Thinking back to many years ago, the wind chime hummed softly.