"Ready. Aim. Fire!"

Perhaps the aim part was forgotten. Miles couldn't see, thanks to the ofuda over his face. But he could still hear the arrow miss him and sick itself into the trees behind him.

The kitsune's wrists struggled against the ropes that bound him to the tree. If it kept up like this, maybe he could get through them and escape. Or maybe this could be a stall until the others found him.

Miles knew younger kitsunes weren't as powerful. That was what made this all so pathetic. Because he knew that once he was dead, these hunters would all celebrate and cheer like it was some kind of accomplishment. Killing a child in cold blood, one that couldn't even defend himself properly.

He really had no idea why the hunters were so bent on killing them all. Yes, some kitsunes were trouble. But wasn't that the same with everything? If one creature bit, did that mean they should all be killed?

He also didn't really understand why they insisted on this... execution-style arrow-firing to kill him. A stab was much easier.

Pathetic. All of it.

The second arrow didn't hit either. How hard was it to strike a bound kitsune in the heart?

The third arrow sprouted in his neck.

Miles couldn't even make a sound as the arrowhead buried itself in the wood behind his neck. As pain exploded in his neck, he tried to cry out. Tried to move or shout or curse the hunters.

But he couldn't speak, only make a faint gurgle of a noise. He choked on his own blood and the wood of the arrow. Crimson spilled from his mouth, staining the paper of the ofuda.

He could hear commotion around him.

"Its heart! I said to strike its heart, you fools!"

"Oh gods... Oh gods, what did we do...?"

"I told you to leave this one alone! He was a child- he's suffering!"

"The other kitsunes will have our heads for this!"

"Just-" Miles felt something sharp embed itself in his chest.

Then the world went dark.