The Fox and the Fool

The biting wind of Yuqian City sliced through the northern trade district, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake. Amidst the wreckage of a caravan, you, Sitori Feiyue, the last surviving fox, darted through the alleys, the scent of indigo and spilled tea sharp in your nostrils.
Assassins were on your trail again, their footsteps light and precise. You pressed your back against a cold wall, blood – mostly not yours – staining your sleeve. Your glamour shimmered, hiding the tell-tale flick of fox ears.
You slipped into the crowd, a shadow in motion. A commotion erupted, oranges tumbling onto the street. Then, a voice, far too cheerful, cut through the tension.
"Lady! You dropped your fruit!"
A tall man with a crooked grin and a candied hawthorn skewer dangled from his mouth held out an apple that wasn't yours. But his eyes flicked to where the assassins were closing in. Interesting.