Inari was in trouble.
Of course, that wasn’t exactly anything new. He was always in trouble. But this was a new sort of trouble: the kind of trouble that comes from being surrounded by a whole tribe of angry tiger-people. Yes, a whole tribe. Not that Jevuum tribes tended to be very large, and this one was smaller than most. This one, he knew, had one adult male, who knew how many adult females, and whatever children there might be. That was how it usually was. Territorial creatures and all that. Sometimes they were able to overcome their instincts and live in a more communal sort of setting, but this tribe hadn’t done that. They usually hunted alone. He must have pissed them off a lot more than he’d thought if the whole tribe had come out here after him. Ah well. May as well make the best of it.
“Hello!” he called cheerfully.
He was quite a sight: a handsome if tall and lanky young man, his hair red like a fox, and tousled even more than usual. Two fox-ears poked out near the top of his head, and he was covered, head to toe, in mud, which was the problem really: it had been SACRED mud. Who knew? Still, it was totally unreasonable for them to hold it against him. After all, how was he to know that the well in the middle of their village's temple was considered sacred? And how was he to know that climbing down to the bottom of it and splashing about in the muddy water to find the source of the well’s music would offend the tribe? And how was he to know that the... well, ok, so he did know that the Jevuum were a bit ill-tempered, and tended to take things personally. Setting fire to village priest’s tail as a means of generating a distraction in order to get away may have also contributed to their anger. Idly, he wondered if the priest was out there with the rest of the tribe.
Growls sounded in the forest all around him as the tiger-people moved in, fangs and claws gleaming in the moonlight. He backed against the rock-face they had chased him to. The forest grew right up to the very base of the cliff, and vines streamed down the side of the cliff from far above, with long lengths coiled across the forest floor all around the group.
“Prill,” one of them – the tribe’s alpha male – intoned, “You have desecrated our holy shrine, and for this you must die. Do you have anything to say for yourself before sentence is carried out?”
Inari considered the Jevuum alpha for a moment. Yes, he decided. Yes, those biceps really were as thick as his own chest. “Well yes, actually.”
The Jevuum waited for him to continue about as patiently as could be expected from tiger-people. Which is to say, not very. No small number of snarls and barings of teeth ensued.
“I’ve got a question. Just one, and once you answer it, you’re free to tear me limb from limb or whatever it is you want to do.”
“Speak,” the Jevuum’s leader snapped.
“Why do you think I chose to face you in this particular spot?” Inari asked, now all but radiating what could only be described as an egocentric sense of unstoppableness.
The Jevuum leader didn’t like that at all. Such an attitude didn’t usually go over well, of course, but this particular tiger-person seemed especially offended by it. He allowed his claws to emerge from their sheathes. “Because you are desperate, stupid, and about to die,” he said, and stalked towards the lanky young Prill.
Inari glared at the Jevuum leader. “I’ll have you know, I am neither stupid nor about to die.” He sang the words more than he spoke them, and as he finished, he did not fall silent. The song continued, telling now of growing things, of sap and wood.
The Jevuum charged. Not just their leader: all of them. A good eleven angry tiger-people bounded across the short distance that separated Inari from them, each of them intent on one thing: decorating the whole forest with his insides.
And that was when the forest came to life. The vines uncoiled like serpents and lunged into the onrushing crowd of Jevuum, wrapping around them and hoisting them into the air like animals in a Cheldrun rope-trap. Inari, grinning cheekily, conducted the affair, singing still, miming the movements now of this vine, now of that one, until the whole tribe was swaying back and forth some twenty feet off the ground, bound up as securely as the young Prill could manage.
“You’ll pay for this, Prill!” one of the Jevuum bellowed.
“A thousand deaths is too few for you! May your family be cursed unto the thousandth generation!” another shrieked.
“Right then,” Inari said, allowing the last few notes of the Song of Wood to fall away into ... well, him talking. He never did know when to leave well enough alone. “Since I am apparently not going to be eviscerated today, I think I’ll go ahead and bid you fine people farewell. Farewell! Goodbye! I hate to leave you hanging,” (the tiger-people groaned at that) “But I’m off. Allons-y, and all that.” He brushed at the now mostly dry mud on his cheeks and on his arms to little effect before walking calmly into the forest and out of sight. He’d hoped to learn the Song of Water here, but that was out of the question now. Ah well. Can’t find a new song in every village. It suddenly occurred to him that those Jevuum would probably be pretty pissed when they managed to free themselves. The more Inari considered that thought, the more it bothered him.
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