she came upon a dying fox.

it had been savaged by dogs. there was nothing she could do to save it. she brought it water and it drank from her cupped hands.

she lay beside it, one lost, hurt, wild creature lending comfort to another. it's whimpers ceased. they slept through the night and watched the dawn together, and as the sun rose, it died.

she rose, slung her shamisen across her shoulder, and walked away. at the crest of a hill, she paused. 'goodbye', she said. she did not look back.

alone again, she walked on.