Vixen Hunted Read online

  Timothy's feet moved and Cat bounced next to Kyle. She glanced back as if to make sure Timothy followed.

  Kyle led them through winding worn alleys to the eastern gate. "Remember, if we take this gate, we can follow the stream straight into the forest. It is faster than taking the south road like they will. Oh, don't tell me you don't remember."

  "Yeah. Sure. I guess." Timothy's mind roiled with his stomach. Did he really have to do this?

  "Where are you heading today, Kyle?" the militiaman asked.

  "Out to see our old haunts and save a lovely lady," Kyle said.

  "Does Henrietta know about this lovely lady?"

  "She's not mine, Bill." Kyle shoved Timothy forward. "She's the wife of this lucky guy. But you know how women can be."

  Timothy shrugged. Did Kyle have to tell everyone in Fairhaven Kit's lie?

  Bill laughed. "I do that. Though my wife says men are the reason women are as they are. Well, no harm in letting you through." Bill nodded at the younger soldiers beside him. The young men each grabbed one of the gate's iron rings and tugged. Cat stampeded through the opening.

  "Thanks, Bill." Kyle clapped the man on the back. "Let's play cards again sometime soon."

  Kyle set a hard pace, cutting across hilled pasture. Timothy's mind flitted. Did he think himself a hero or something? Despite what Kyle thought, this was not a story. They could very well be arrested, or worse.

  The air felt cooler than the last several days, but Timothy sweated. Cat chased butterflies and scampered. It must be nice to have only lamb worries.

  The stream they followed cut south into the forest. Timothy passed a sign warning against trespassing, and maples and oaks engulfed them. Birdsong hushed.

  "I wondered why so many men left the town days ago," Kyle said. "They were cutting out all the undergrowth."

  The forest looked odd without the usual tangled undergrowth. Brush and thistle showed the work of the men, and debris and logs were piled high against boulders, out of the way. Fresh wounds from low hanging limbs spoke of how important this hunt was.

  "Looks like we can't count on any riders smacking a low tree limb," Timothy said.

  "And that was the best part of the plan too," Kyle said. "These men don't know what it means to hunt. A real hunter will come out with half the forest stuck to him."

  "We should wait here." Timothy pointed to where the manicure ended. The tangled thorns and brush stood out like a missed patch on a shorn sheep. The stream gurgled just beyond the tangle.

  Cat tugged at a raspberry bush. She bleated, frustrated.

  Kyle fumbled with the brown bandana around his neck. "Looks good. I will see about the traps. There are enough thorns around."

  "Traps?"

  "Of course, traps." Kyle pricked his finger on a thorn. "Do you think this pack was just for show? I am going to make traps to take out some of these men. It will be fun. If only I had buckets of ink or dye too."

  Cat shoved her head against Timothy, glancing from him to the raspberry bush and back. She bleated.

  "You know they could arrest us, or worse," Timothy said.

  "All the more fun. If only Henrietta could see what I have planned—"

  "She would say you are too old for this." Timothy yanked the raspberry bush down. Cat attacked the berries, her tail blurring. Timothy stole one and almost lost a finger to the lamb.

  "Bah. You are right, but I don't plan on stopping till I am in the grave. What's the point if life's not an adventure?" Kyle pulled several coiled ropes from his pack. "How will your lady love know where we are?"

  "Somehow I don't think that will be a problem."

  Chapter 4

  Howls split the night. The moon cast an eerie glow through the forest canopy. Timothy shuddered. The moon's light looked like the ribs of his poor dead sheep. Cat leaned against him, her ears plastered to her head. She did her best to scowl at the pallid darkness. Timothy should have left the lamb in town. He should have done a lot of things in the past two days. A crack echoed through the woods and a hound yelped.

  Kyle muffled a laugh. "Got another one."

  Shouts bounced off the trunks of the manicured forest. Whatever they hunted gave them quite a chase. Timothy peered into the trees in the distance, looking for Kit. He expected to see her hours ago. He hoped she hadn't fallen into one of Kyle's scattered rope traps. What did the hunters think of Kyle's traps?

  "I should have one more left." Kyle rubbed his hands. "Your lady love is taking her sweet time finding us. Sounds like that hound broke his leg with how he's carrying on. One of those hounds costs more than my year's wage. Serves them right."

  Timothy assumed Kit would be with the men. She might follow them on foot with the hound wranglers. He dreaded seeing her. Timothy had known her only a short time—a very short time—but he doubted that would spare him from her tongue. Hopefully, she didn't get snagged in one of Kyle's traps. That would certainly earn him a tongue lashing.

  Kyle pulled at his ridiculous mask. "I didn't know my nose could sweat such," he complained for the fifth time.

  "Why are you wearing it?" Timothy asked.

  The sounds of the chase drew closer. Whatever they hunted had to be exhausted by now. Timothy took a steadying breath.

  "I'd rather not have to run away from town once this is over. If they don't know who I am, I won't have anything to worry about," Kyle said. "Besides, it makes me look dashing, doesn't it?"

  A cloud engulfed the moon. Timothy swallowed anxiety. A horse and man screamed in pain, and Timothy jumped.

  "Last trap." Kyle adjusted his pack.

  Timothy forced himself to breathe. He needed to stay calm and think. Little chance of that. He was a fool.

  Cat's ears pricked. The chase thumped away from them. Hounds barked, and men hooted. The hunt was nearing an end.

  A muffled curse cut through trees right on top of them, and Kyle tensed. A dagger flashed into his hand, and his fingers tightened around the hilt. Timothy wished he had brought his crook. Cat stood alert, her nose and ears pointed at the rustling darkness.

  A figure burst out of the trees just as the clouds slipped from the moon. Moonlight streamed over red hair. Dirt and leaves clung, and white skin gleamed through rips in the figure's clothes. Mud, sweat, and scratches marked a freckled face. Green eyes blazed.

  Timothy gasped.

  Two red-furred ears tipped with white stood from the tangle of red hair. A red snowcapped tail, covered with burrs, swished. A tail!

  "What is it?!" Kyle clutched dagger. "A demon?"

  "Kit?" Timothy's voice quivered.

  Cat bounced over and leaned against Kit's shredded leggings. The woman glared. "Who else would it be, shepherd! Seriously, Cat has more sense than you."

  Distant shouts and the baying of hounds reverberated through the trees. Kit grimaced. "My trick was discovered. With luck some fool fell into it. Nice traps, by the way. They helped a bit. Well? Do you plan on serving tea and cookies, shepherd, or shall we get going?"

  Kit brushed past the two men. Timothy shook himself and followed the swishing tail toward the stream.

  "She has a tail?" Kyle lifted his fool mask. "You could've told me and spared me the gray hairs. Is my beard white? It feels like it. She is like a creature from the stories my grand pappy told!"

  Kit turned from the brambled stream bank. Her ears twitched. "Yes, I have a tail. You had best not trample it. In fact, no touching it at all, Timmy. Stop gawking and move!"

  Kyle whistled softly. "She is like Henrietta too. We better hurry."

  Cat splashed ahead of Timothy, looking as if she had half the forest in her wool. The little lamb continued to surprise him. No lamb he knew would run toward danger. "Dog" was a better name for the lamb than "Cat."

  Moonlit reflections churned in the water. The lamb scurried next to Kit, looking back at the two men as if to make sure they were keeping up. Timothy felt safer with the bristling wall of thorns between them and the hunters.

  "I should
have planned an escape. I didn't think about that part." Kyle splashed.

  The sound of pursuit disappeared into the gurgling stream. Timothy winced with each footstep, wishing the moon would hide again.

  Timothy trudged beside Kit. "They are…hunting you?"

  Kit looked at him over her shoulder. "No, we are having a dog show." Her fox ears slumped. "The fat man is more resourceful than I thought. Before I saw you in town, the fat man showed me and his business partner his trophy room." She shivered. "I am not his first prize hunt. But this one will escape."

  Timothy wiped his forehead with a shaking hand. "What have I gotten into?" he mumbled.

  "I said I was a good judge of character, didn't I? I knew you couldn't resist saving a helpless princess like me." Kit's tail fluttered.

  Timothy stepped to the side to avoid it brushing him.

  "Now that isn't nice, shepherd." Her ears pricked. "Good. They lost our scent."

  "A tail." Kyle shook his head. "Well, I wanted to be a hero in a story. Henrietta won't believe this one."

  "How can you know they lost our scent?" Timothy asked.

  "Her ears, man." Kyle mimicked Kit's ears with his hands. "Don't you remember the stories? Wait. Are all the stories true?"

  Timothy's ears only heard the gurgling stream and their own squelching feet.

  Kyle cursed.

  Yellow light lanced across the water. Men stood at the tributary, shielded lanterns in their hands. A fat man, cradling a long gilded musket, drooped beside the men, a richly brocaded coat straining across his broad belly. A thin man fidgeted beside the fat noble. Mud marred clothing better suited for a ball than a hunt. Kit hissed at them.

  "See, Lord Nylan? The prey is wily. They like to use water to hide their scent from the hounds. They rely too much on tricks and their ears." Treblin passed the musket to the thin noble. "We just had to send the hounds away to make the prey feel safe. Prey that feels it has freedom makes mistakes."

  Light streamed behind Timothy, and he turned to find a new threat. Tahd led another group of men. They were trapped.

  Kyle crouched, dagger in hand. Kit growled, her ears lying flat against her head. Timothy gripped his shirttails, his mind racing for solutions.

  Lord Nylan took the musket from the fat man. "You are right about this hunt, Lord Treblin. This has been a thrilling romp. Perhaps I could enjoy her charms as well. I shall aim for her leg."

  "No! Lying with her kind is a sin. Her kind is a rare hunt and nothing more." Lord Treblin hesitated. "Pardon me, my Lord. Hunts fire my blood."

  "No, no, Lord Treblin. It is all right," Lord Nylan said. "I have never felt my blood rise like this. I think the hunting is quite excellent. She is a pretty thing. More's the pity."

  "So you are the ones who set those snares." Lord Treblin leveled a finger at Kyle and Timothy. "Your traps cost me one of my hounds. Men, take them once the fox is down."

  "No. None of that." Lord Nylan fumbled with the musket's frizzen. "I will pay for your hound. The traps made the hunt so much more fun. I lost two of my men, but it was well worth the excitement!"

  Two men died, and they thought it was exciting? Timothy shook his head.

  "It was my good pleasure, my lord." Kyle bowed.

  Nylan laughed. "I want these men rewarded, Lord Treblin. It has been most amusing."

  Timothy felt a hand on his shoulder, right over his scar. He looked over into Kit's green eyes—fierce, angry, yet afraid. He swallowed and steeled himself.

  "We are leaving with her." Timothy was surprised at the sound of his own voice. It rang clear despite his heart feeling like jelly.

  "See now why you need to avoid the charms of these demons?" Lord Treblin sighed. "The poor boy is obviously taken. Shall you do the final honor, my Lord?"

  "The hunt is over so soon?" Lord Nylan fumbled with the musket.

  "It is." Lord Treblin said. "All that is left is for you to claim your trophy."

  The thin man licked his lips. "I want her alive. What good is a tail on my wall?" The soldiers looked at each other. Several made a sign of the cross and frowned in Kit's direction.

  "Take the girl and go," Kyle said in a low voice, his hand on Timothy's shoulder. "I will distract them. Run to the men behind us. No arguments. Now's your chance." He winked at Kit. "I said I was going to be a hero, right?"

  "But—" Timothy started to say.

  Kyle shoved him. "Go!" he yelled and charged at the nobles. Surprise lit the men's faces as Kyle bowled into them.

  Kit snatched Timothy's hand and ran in a red blur ahead of him. His legs and instinct took over. The lamb pumped her short legs against the rocky stream bed as she followed them. With one leap, Kit ran square into Tahd. The Inquisitor tumbled, the stream turning his yell into gurgles. Behind them, Lord Nylan yelled for help, and men raced toward the shout. Kyle was right again. Not that Timothy was ever going to admit it to the man.

  Cat crashed into a man's knee. Dropped lanterns hissed to black. Timothy leapt over where the men collapsed, and his foot stomped on something soft. He stumbled but kept his footing. Timothy ran blind, hoping his eyes would adjust to the dark soon.

  Kit jerked his hand. "This way." Her eyes gleamed with a light of their own.

  They veered through a low bank, and thorns tore at their skin and clothes. Cat darted ahead. Timothy's lungs ached, and his heart threatened to burst. Cat bleated her surprise as dark shapes surged past. The ground disappeared beneath them. Roots and fallen branches bruised and scratched. The world tumbled and snapped around them.

  Timothy rolled to a stop, heart loud in his ears. He lay on his back, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Kit panted not too far away.

  "We have to keep moving, shepherd."

  "As long as they don't sick the hounds on us." Timothy hoisted himself up. The world decided to hold steady. Cat frowned up at Timothy, looking like some sort of forest monster covered in leaves, twigs, and dirt. Those liquid eyes held concern.

  "Tough little girl." Timothy rubbed the lamb's head.

  "I hate dogs." Kit's ears twitched.

  "I don't think I will get used to that," Timothy said under his breath, looking at her ears.

  "I am just me. Let's go." Kit snatched his hand.

  They rushed with ears strained against the darkness. Timothy's mind fluttered. They would not kill Kyle, would they? Kyle was tough, but those were hunters. Not to mention that attacking nobles guaranteed a death sentence. Just who was this girl who held his hand? Was she really a fox demon? His mind scurried ahead of his feet but found no answers.

  The woods revealed a collapsing farm house, the weathered roof drooping to the ground on one end. Vines and saplings peeked through the many holes in the walls. It looked wonderful to Timothy's tired eyes.

  "I'm exhausted. We have to stop and rest." Exhaustion dragged at him.

  Kit nodded and gasped for air, her ears slumping. Timothy felt ashamed of his exhaustion. The hunters had chased her for the better part of the day, yet she said nothing about how tired she must feel.

  They slipped under a door of hardened wild grapevines. The floorboards creaked. Broken furniture and several moth-eaten rags littered the room. Moonlight played a merry tune for the dust.

  Timothy flopped down, and Kit slumped against one of the walls. Cat faced the entrance, pulling at her wool while keeping one eye on the copse of trees in the distance. Timothy yawned. Kit's eyes had already closed, and her chest rose and fell with sleep.

  "Can you keep watch for us, Cat?" A second yawn cracked his jaw. A short rest. That was all they needed.

  "Baa!" Cat yanked a thorn branch from her wool and threw it aside.

  Timothy chuckled. He spoke to a lamb, and she understood.

  So tired. "I am just going to rest my eyes." Timothy drifted. In the distance, he thought he heard hounds baying.

  Timothy choked on dirty wool.

  "Baa! Baa!"

  He spluttered awake. Cat head butted him.

  "Baa!"

>   "I'm awake." Morning light filtered through cracks in the remaining ceiling.

  Hounds howled.

  Sleep fled Timothy. He crawled over and shook Kit awake. She jerked and cuffed him on the cheek.

  "Good morning to you too." Timothy rubbed his cheek. "Hurry! I hear—"

  Her impossible ears stood straight, but exhaustion still tugged at her eyes. "I hear the fat man. We need to go."

  Cat's ears perked like Kit's. The lamb looked more like a lamb now that she had plucked most of the forest from her wool. Timothy strained his ears. Silence. No birds, crickets, or any other sounds that should be plentiful in the woods. It meant only one thing.

  Trouble approached.

  "They are coming this way," Kit whispered.

  Timothy shifted to stand. The creak of the floorboards sounded like a musket shot. He froze. Kit bit her lip and rose to her feet, gazing around the room.

  "They will see us if we try to slip out the front." Kit's tail bristled. A hound bayed. It sounded uncomfortably close.

  "Baa!"

  Cat looked Timothy in the eye and turned her head toward a hole where the wall and floor joined. She glanced at them one more time before wiggling through it. Kit caught Timothy's eye and shrugged.

  "Works for me." She slipped after the lamb.

  Sweat ran down Timothy's back. Hounds bayed. He could just make out men's voices now.

  "I…I think I'm stuck!" Kit's tail flailed.

  "Check the house," said a voice outside.

  "I can't…" The white-capped tail flapped.

  They had to get out. Now.

  Timothy grabbed Kit's wiggling bottom and heaved. Her tail slapped his face.

  "Hey! Ugh."

  Kit's tail disappeared through the opening with one more whack to Timothy's face. He fell to his stomach and heaved himself through with desperate strength. A hard flick to his forehead welcomed him.

  "What was that for?" Timothy rubbed his forehead.

  "I didn't give you permission to take a handful," Kit whispered.

  Timothy rolled his eyes. Was now the time for that? "It is my husbandly privilege, right?"