"Mama!" I squealed, prompting the beautiful, at least in my eyes, woman in front of me to light up with a warm smile. She gave me a tight squeeze, rubbing her cheek against my own.

She spoke to me a bit more, and although I could sort of understand some words here and there, it was still difficult. Well, I was only 6 months old, so that shouldn't have been a surprise.

After the whole naming fiasco 5 months ago and its subsequent revelation, I'd decided to take the fact that my penis was gone and shove it to the back of my mind before locking. There wasn't much I could do about it anyway, and considering that I was a baby, gender was kind of irrelevant.

Besides, this place didn't seem like ancient China, so hopefully, female infanticide wasn't a thing here.

And even if it was, at very least it seemed that mother was, if not the leader, at least high up in the hierarchy of the tribe, and I doubted she'd let anyone kill me.

I was pulled away from my thoughts when my mother started cuddling me once more, running her hands through my seemingly ever-growing foxy ears.

I leaned into the touch, enjoying the way her hands soothed the dull ache and itching that had only been getting worse as each week passed by, something that I was pretty sure was a similar process to the teething I was also going through.

In truth, my life here was extremely boring. While I did stop spending 80% of my time in dreamland, there really wasn't much for me to do when awake. Sure, mom spent as much time as she could with me, but when she was absent, I was left with nothing but my lonely little self and a mere rock to keep myself entertained.

Hell, I still couldn't walk, and even if I could, I highly doubted that leaving this tent would be a good idea, as while it did sometimes stop snowing, that meant nothing since it seemed as though we lived in a permanently frozen area anyways.

How did I know this? Simple. Mother would sometimes take me to the longhouse to attend the meetings there with her, and some other times, she'd bring me to the tents of the other tribe members to let them play with me for a bit.

Somewhat surprisingly, the tribe was actually rather small. If everyone, including me, was counted, there were only 9 people in total in the tribe, a pathetically small number all things considered.

Honestly, it might as well be called a large family rather than a full-on tribe, but it just doesn't seem right to call it that.

I let out an unhappy wheeze when I felt the hand that had been gently rubbing my head stopping its caresses, and in order to get her to continue, I turned to stare at my mother with large, watery eyes.

She cracked a smile at the sight before getting up, and then, she moved.

It was too fast for my baby brain to register in time. One second she was petting me, and the next, pained squeals and cries were coming from a corner of the tent.

I twisted around to face said corner, my eyes wide as I did.

Only then did I see where my suddenly very scary mother had vanished to, now holding a small rodent in her hands... No, not hands. Claws.

Her nails and fingers had somehow lengthened and sharpened into truly dangerous-looking things, and judging by the blood trickling down from where her digits met the rodent's skin, they held up to their looks.

She gave me a grin as she slowly walked back to me, looking completely unhurried despite the wheezing cries of the rodent, her expression unchanging even as it desperately tried to twist around to bite at her.

Once she reached me, she crouched down, offering me the hand holding the rodent firmly within its grasp. I looked at it with confusion, then looked back at mom.

"Want to play?" She offered, gently pushing the rodent into my own clumsy hands, but not before giving it a harsh squeeze, one that easily broke the small critter's neck and likely shattered a large number of its bones.

I felt a shiver run down my spine at her brutal action, however, rather than horror or fear, it was something else. Something... darker.

I don't know what came to me next, but in hindsight, I think the devil itself possessed me, for how else could I describe the actions that followed?

I clumsily took the dying rodent from my mom's hands, accidentally dropping it to the floor as I did. It fell down and landed rather painfully despite the soft carpet underneath us.

As expected, it immediately attempted to flee... Unfortunately for it, however,, it couldn't even move its body. All that it was able to do was kick its hindlegs out randomly and let out small, pained cries.

I batted at it with one hand like a kitten playing with her food. Then I did it again, and again, and again.

When it still refused, or rather, failed to escape and entertain me, I found myself once more picking it up, and this time, I didn't drop it.

And then, I brought it to my mouth, and bit into it.

Mother didn't do anything to stop me. Rather, she sat back and watched, giving a few words of encouragement. Thus, with my rationality having been obliterated by instincts, I began to shake my head back and forth, my deceptively sharp and strong teeth tearing into the rat's flesh like small daggers.

Before I knew it, a chunk of flesh had been ripped out of the rodent, who was somehow still alive, yet utterly unable to even so much as cry. Blood trickled down my chin, but rather than grossing me out, the smell only made me hungrier, and with a gulp, I swallowed down the flesh in my mouth.

I licked my lips, the realization of what I'd just done dawning on me. Despite that, I felt unnaturally calm, even as mom picked up the rodent's half-twitching body and, with a brutal carelessness that would've horrified any sane person, threw it into her own mouth, swallowing the entire creature in an instant.

I could only stare in horrified amazement as mom licked her lips. Then, as if nothing had happened, she sat down behind me once more, her hands returning to their careful massage of my ears, while her tails returned to trying to entertain me.

My mood had been ruined, however, and I really didn't feel like playing anymore. The horror of what I'd just done, of knowing that I was utterly unable to reject my instincts... It made me want to puke.

I felt an identity crisis beginning to form within me as my mother kept on grooming me. Just what was I?

Was I Kira, the child of a savage predator, an innocent child that apparently had a thirst for blood, or was I the reincarnated human, a man who had once lived in a society that abhorred violence?

I began hyperventilating, and my brain failed to register my mother shaking me, calling out my name in increasing worry.

Still, her voice brought me back from the brink, and I began to take deep breaths, doing my best to calm down, which thankfully prevented me from having a full-on panic attack.

It took a bit, but eventually, I managed to calm down, relaxing from the almost painful tenseness that I'd been in before as mother continued gently petting me, holding me close to her.

I realized that I was exaggerating. In the end, no matter if I had ears or tails, penis or vagina, human or fox-girl, I was still myself. Worrying about who I was and wasn't was pointless.

I'd just have to discover it as I grew up.

The next day, mom brought with her yet another rodent, a slightly smaller one than yesterday's, and instead of crushing it as she did with the previous critter, she straight-up handed it to me alive and intact.

Apparently, my little outburst the previous day hadn't seemed too significant to her. Still, this time, instead of allowing my instincts to take over, I forced myself to handle the rodent with care, taking it in my hands without hurting it.

My efforts were for naught, however, as the rat bit me.

I screeched in pain, throwing it to the ground as tears sprouted from my eyes, and I clutched at my hand, watching as bright red blood came out from the small puncture the bite had caused. Seeing it, I began to whine uncounsciously.

Seeing me act so pitifully, mom just shook her head as she easily recaptured the escaping rat, and instead of simply giving it to me this time, she took my hands into her own, gently showing me how to hold the rat, completely ignoring the wound there.

Now, I seriously doubt this woman has much experience with babies because I'm pretty sure a normal brat my age would never understand. That, or foxy babies are different, I don't know.

After a bit of hesitation, I followed along, and with her help, I was able to hold the rat properly this time, preventing it from either retaliating or escaping.

It was then that my inner sadist showed itself, and I did nothing to stop it, still furious at the thing for hurting me despite my carefulness.

It was irrational of me, of course, but then again, nobody had ever accused babies of being rational.

I squeezed it, bit it, clawed at it, slammed it into the ground, stomped on it, and just generally vented my frustration upon the poor thing until it was nothing more than a smushed corpse, as despite being a tiny baby, it seemed that I was deceptively strong.

It was then that mother stopped me, grabbing the rat and tearing it in half with ease, handing me the larger portion while throwing the other into her maws.

While feeling somewhat disgusted on the inside, I did the same, chewing and tasting it with my tongue for almost an entire minute before swallowing.

It tasted... Surprisingly alright, despite it being a filthy, uncooked rat.

From that day on, meat would become my one and only food. Not that I was complaining about it, really. While breast milk was fine and all, it still felt awkward as hell being shoved against mom's breasts like that.

As I thought of this, I did my best to keep away the darker thoughts swirling in my mind, and the guilt of having tortured an innocent creature to death even as my mother, the person supposed to stop me and teach me better, only encouraged my actions.

Fox people were fucked up, it seemed, and I was no different.