The wolf spirit's ears twitch as you lower your hands, allowing the gathering foxfire to dissipate into the air like golden smoke. 'Great guardian,' you begin, keeping your voice steady despite the creature's imposing presence, 'why do you bar this path so fiercely when the shrine above needs aid?'

The beast's growl deepens, a sound that vibrates through your bones. 'Foolish kitsune,' it rumbles, pacing slowly before the path. 'I guard not against those who would help, but against what seeks to escape.' Its glowing eyes flick upward toward the shrine. 'The defilers came wearing faces like yours, golden tails and honeyed words. They tricked the shrine maidens and shattered the sacred wards.'

As you listen, the wolf's form seems to flicker, revealing glimpses of terrible wounds beneath its fur - deep gashes that weep shadows instead of blood. 'I fell defending this path,' it continues, 'but my spirit lingers by the will of the moon herself. No imposter shall pass while I draw breath, even this borrowed one.'

The revelation makes your tails still. The wolf isn't your enemy, but another victim of whatever darkness has taken the shrine. You notice now how its massive form trembles with effort, how the shadows around its paws seem to cling like chains. 'What became of the imposters?' you ask softly.

The wolf's lips peel back in what might be a smile or a snarl. 'One remains above, trapped by its own corruption when the last ward fell. It wears a stolen face...perhaps one you would recognize.' Its ears suddenly prick forward. 'Hush! It stirs even now - do you not feel the air grow heavier?' Indeed, the forest around you has gone eerily silent, and a faint, acrid scent drifts down from the shrine path.