The FoxFire Polar Resort. Nestled, so the ads said, in a "magical" mountain range. With advancing technology, large scale permanent settlement and even recreational centres were becoming feasible above the Arctic Circle. But this one promised an experience of winter fun and wonder far beyond what the other experimental resorts could boast.
It was -- the ads claimed -- situated in Lappland, in Norway north of Finland. The experience began in Helsinki, where the Resort's guide and PR specialist, Fiia Ravsdotter, met the group that had assembled for the opening "season" -- a four-week period beginning in November and lasting through the first week of December. She was a pretty -- to say the least -- young woman, with sparkling green eyes and natural platinum blond hair. She was tall, and as far as could be told under her coat was athletic, though still "well-rounded."
"If you enjoy it," she told the guests, who ranged from just out of high school to elders to families with little kids -- there was even a reporter to cover the opening of the new Resort -- "you can buy an extension through New Year's. It'll be a lot of fun to celebrate Christmas and New Year's under the Northern Lights."
She ushered them onto a high-speed train that would take them across the border -- and the Arctic Circle -- into Norway. There, she reminded them, they would switch to a private train that would go to the Resort. Meanwhile, they had an entire car to themselves, reserved by the company, price included in the vacation package.
"Why is it called FoxFire?" asked one of the guests as Finland flashed by the windows.
"It's a translation of revontulet, the Finnish word for the Northern Lights," she explained. "According to our legends, foxes create the aurora from sparks they generate as they run across the snow."
"So, you're Finnish?" asked someone else. "Ravsdotter sounds Swedish."
"Good call!" She laughed. "I'm half and half, actually. Not too uncommon around here."
Given how fast they were moving, "here" seemed mighty relative. "Look!" someone exclaimed. "The Sun is setting!"
"Not in the usual sense," said Fiia, smirking a little. "You did realise what winter in the Arctic means, right? Eternal night."
"Not really," objected a guest. "It's only on the solstice that the Sun is down all day."
"Near the Circle, yes; but we're going far beyond that."
They passed the border not too long after that, with no more hassle than an announcement by the conductor. Then came the transfer, and everyone was glad Fiia had reminded them to put on their heavier garments, because the temperature was well below freezing. Then came another long train ride, with the Sun sinking further and further below the southern horizon.
"We've been going an awfully long time," someone observed at last. "I'm surprised we haven't run off into the ocean."
Fiia laughed. "Wouldn't that be something? But this late in the year, the Barents Sea is pretty solidly frozen. You probably could run a rail line all the way to the North Pole... but that wouldn't be practical, would it? Unless, of course, you used magic!"
Finally the train came to a smooth halt. In fact it had been a very smooth journey; none of the passengers realised how supernaturally fast they had flown along. It was now late evening (by the clock, the Sun had disappeared hours ago). The Resort was laid out rather like a campground, with a central firepit enclosed in a mostly glass pavilion, with glass-enclosed walkways connecting it to the surrounding buildings. Cozy-looking cabins for the guests lay to the south, near the station where they disembarked, while Resort facilities lay to the north.
Fiia showed them around; the central pavilion was for group activities and had an information desk. Then to the north the Resort featured a Finnish sauna; a ski lodge; reindeer stables and sleigh sheds; a gift shop; a state-of-the-art clinic; a restaurant; even another train station which Fiia claimed was for the two excursions to "Santa's Village" the package had advertised. One of the guests inquired about a path that seemed to lead to a cave in the side of the mountain on which the Resort was perched.
"That," said Fiia, with a mischievous glint in her golden eyes, "won't be open until tomorrow. But rumour has it that it leads to a secret garden with all-natural volcanic hot springs."
Wait, had her eyes always been golden yellow? Was that even possible for a human?
There were several other buildings that she did not explain, beyond that they were not yet ready. Almost with the implication that it was the guests, rather than the attractions, that were not ready. Some of the guests felt that something was "off" about the Resort. Others felt that something was magical. Certainly, the staff were very friendly. Most seemed related to Fiia -- she mentioned this was a family business.
Finally, they found themselves back in the pavilion, watching snow gently swirl outside through the glass walls and the twinkle of stars in the sky above. Fiia told them to put their winter gear back on, as she stepped to an outside door.
"We're not going out?" protested a man.
"I wanna go 'bed," whined a kid.
"Just a minute, sweetie," replied Fiia. "There's one last thing to show you."
She opened the door, and stepped beyond into the Arctic night. Everyone huddled deeper into their parkas. Fiia tilted her head back, her hair blowing in the icy wind, and spread her arms out to her sides. And only then did they realise she had never once pulled up the hood of her faux fox fur coat.
"Miss --" a concerned old man called, but then everyone fell silent. Even the wind died as the air began to shimmer around her.
Light. Her own personal aurora. Green, blue, yellow, white, red; whirling out and twisting about her. At first, mesmerised, the party did not notice the changes taking place beneath the aurora. But first one then another saw that her coat and pants had melded with her body, the white fur spreading up her face, carrying it out into a sharp muzzle, lifting her ears into small rounded triangles that swivelled above her hair, which had lost all pretense of blonde to become pure silvery white.
As her tail pushed out even the most obtuse guest could not deny it. Fiia was no longer human. She was also no longer clothed, except for her cute patterned scarf; her fluffy paws rested directly on the snow, and the curvy contours of her body were plainly visible, even with the furry padding.
As the change ended, the colours spiraled up and expanded, dancing across the sky. And everyone realised exactly why the Resort was called FoxFire.
She turned back to them, a sly smile on her muzzle. There were a few gasps, and many blushes; while her heavy fluff hid most of her more intimate details, her breasts were otherwise on full display and seemed even larger than when she had been clothed. Striding back in, she closed the door behind her, seal hissing as the cold air was locked out. Then, tail wagging, she addressed the astounded crowd.
"So, yes, I am a werefox," she said sweetly. "A polar fox, to be precise; red foxes aren't so comfortable this far north, though you might see some." She giggled at a private joke. "This is our family's first foray into capitalising on our magic. Sorry for the deception -- we aren't sure if the world is ready for the truth yet. So consider yourselves test subjects for our trial run.
"You're free to enjoy the Resort as humans -- though be careful! I and my littermates have rigged some fun surprises up to help enliven your stay. But if you venture outside the Resort, I highly recommend getting one of our 'special guest packages.' Not only will it make the cold more enjoyable if you have a nice thick coat like mine," she ran her hands teasingly over the thick fluff on her breasts, "it will make the natives accept you as one of their own. If you leave our property as a human, we can't guarantee you'll return as human -- or at all, honestly. Some of the tribes can be territorial."
"T-Tribes?"
"Mmhm. There are werefoxes -- polar, red, even a few brave gray transplants -- werewolves, werehares, werelynx, werebears; snow elves; dwarves; reindeer men; and trolls... you probably want to avoid the trolls, they can be nasty and may capture you regardless of your form. We'll do our best to rescue you if you're taken prisoner, but... like I said, no guarantees. Everyone else is friendly, they just don't like 'outsiders' -- meaning humans -- to know they exist. And once they've turned you they're probably going to want to... induct you into their families. So to speak.
"Oh, and speaking of elves and reindeer, the Santa's Village trips I mentioned? They're for real. That's one place you can go and remain human, though I think you might have more fun if you 'fit in.'" She winked. "In addition to what you might expect, there are some other exotic folks there, like centaurs for sleigh rides.
"At the end of your vacation, we'll turn you back and send you home. Orrrrr..." She paused dramatically. "If you decide you like it here, you can stay. The Resort could use a few more staff, and I hear St. Nicholas is hiring as well."
"Oh, and there is one more thing." Her eyes turned knowingly on the journalist, who seemed rather frustrated. "You know how I said we aren't sure if the world is ready for this? Yeah. While you're here, none of your cameras, phones or other recording equipment will work."
"Wait. If our phones don't work, how will we stay in touch with our friends?"
"Oh, the Resort has phones you can use, and internet service," Fiia assured. "We're not trying to isolate you, just prevent evidence of our existence leaking out. Of course, you can tell others about your experience, but without photographic proof, it's just hearsay. Nobody's going to believe you actually met Santa Claus just because you say so!"
She tapped a claw on her fangs. "Oh, and if it isn't already clear -- we're a lot closer to the North Pole than to any 'known' land mass. There's a lot of magic woven around here, older than St. Nick or even us werefoxes. It has both upsides and downsides. One thing being that our railroad is your only way back -- we'll be happy to send you back, with promised refund, but don't try running away, okay? As much as we'll try to protect you, unwanted transformations and slavery to malicious trolls aren't the only dangers out there -- there's still a real risk of freezing to death."
She let the words sink in. Likely there were a few people regretting this. But then she gave them a bit of mood whiplash as she barked out a chipper "Okay! Now you can go to bed. Remember that in order to claim a refund, you have to spend at least two full days and nights here, not counting tonight." A bit more gently she continued, "I know, this is overwhelming, but we want you to give it a chance. As long as you follow our rules, you can experience things you've only dreamed of -- or more than you've dreamed -- and be perfectly safe."
Then she returned to her upbeat PR persona. "Now, off to bed! See you all here in the morning! Your cabins have been assigned; Lars --" she gestured to the young man at the info desk, who had now also shifted into a naked Arctic fox anthro "-- has your keys. Good night! Sweet dreams!"
She turned and went off towards one of the northern paths, thick tail swishing above her swaying hips.