With a sigh of contentment, I looked up at Haiki. The rabbit’s blood clung to his muzzle, reddening his whiskers. Haiki licked his chops. A full belly made me generous. I’ve been too hard on him. Maybe he couldn’t hunt, but he had found a dead rabbit! And he’d looked out for me in the rotting valley. I remembered how he’d beckoned me away from the Taken. He might have abandoned me and saved his own pelt.
The slightest stirring of the soil and my ears pricked. Over the hiss of the stream came another sound. The careful tread of a fox’s paw. My head shot up to meet furious eyes.
Haiki whined and backed toward me. The fox stood over us, a powerful male with a ruddy coat. Black fur circled his eyes, making them look impossibly large. They trailed over the remains of the rabbit.
“Thieves,” he spat. His face contorted with hatred. “Slaves of the Tailless Seer. You poison our valleys. You terrorize our dens. And now you dare to steal our food! Long have I waited to catch you at your mischief. Long have I yearned to rip out your throats.” His tail shot out behind him. He raised his muzzle and barked an alarm call. I felt a rumbling beneath my paws, a shunting of earth and roots. All of a sudden foxes appeared, bursting out of hidden tunnels.
The ruddy-furred male addressed them. “These thieves are pleached! Don’t let them escape! I heard them crossing the Ghost Valley. And now they’ve arrived at our patch. What should we do with them?”
“Kill them, Flint!” the foxes cried. “Kill them at once!”
What a fool I’d been! I’d ignored the clues of the meadow. I had eaten the rabbit without questioning where it came from.
I scrambled away from the ruddy male, making a dash for a cluster of nettles and the open grass that lay beyond. Forepaws smacked against my back and teeth bore down on my neck.
Haiki was yelping somewhere behind me. “Stop! You’ve got it wrong!”
“Shut him up, before he brings others!”
“Into the den! We’ll deal with them there.”
A sprig of grass was teasing me, tickling my nose on the gentle breeze. Its fresh, sweet smell promised freedom and life. The life I’d given up. All for a rest, and some mouthfuls of rabbit.
I snapped at the stem so it tore between my teeth; tasted grass as they pulled me down.
Down into the dark.
A memory. One morning, long ago, I came up from the warmth of the den and blinked into the light. My whiskers tingled with cold as I peered across our patch. The sky was pigeon-feather gray, and the ground was dusted in glittering frost. Beyond it, the grass blades looked rigid as twigs.
My eyes widened. “Pirie, look!” Everything sparkled.
He shuffled alongside me, sniffing and yipping.
Greatma brushed past us, treading lightly on the crisp white grass. She turned to lick our noses.
“It’s too cold for you to play, cubs. Stay inside. Your ma and fa are hunting. It’s hard to find prey beneath the frost. I need to do what I can.”
My ears pricked up. “Can’t we come too?”
Pirie’s tail gave a hopeful wag. “We could help to dig.” He started bouncing up and down and I copied him, kicking up chips of sparkling earth.
“No, cubs, you need to stay where it’s warm and safe. Don’t leave the den. I won’t be long.” Greatma gave us a sharp look and we backed inside, our tails drooping. She prowled over the frost toward the wildway. We craned our necks, taking in the white world of our patch. When Greatma reached the fence, she whipped around. “Get inside! Right now!”
We scrambled deeper into the den, dipping our heads beneath roots that bowed above the soil. It was warmer there, shielded from the wind. I curled up with a sigh. I could hear Greatma’s paws as they crunched over the frost, growing fainter.
“Isla, what are you doing?” Pirie was watching me, head cocked.
“What do you think? Waiting for Greatma.”
His tail gave a mischievous wag. “I think it’s going to snow. Don’t you want to see? That’s when little white mice fall down from the clouds.”
I raised my muzzle proudly. “I know what snow is! I’ve seen it before.”
He butted me with his muzzle. “No, you haven’t!”
I nipped his tail. “Have too!”
He shook me off and started padding away. “Then you won’t want to see it again.” I watched him clamber up the entrance, his back paw scrabbling against a root. With a kick he was out of the den, his tail-tip quivering with excitement.
“Wait for me!” I hurried to join him.
We crunched over the frost. I felt a chill in my paw pads and a shiver down my back. The icy air coated everything silvery white. Scents vanished beneath its shimmering pelt.
“Look at this!” Pirie drew in gulps of breath. When he released them, small clouds of mist bloomed in front of his snout. I stared as they hovered before him on the air. I breathed in deeply and puffed out mist through my nose. Two thin curls climbed lazily above my head. Pirie dived at them, snapping his teeth.
My tail thumped in amusement. Then I looked beyond the mist and my ears flattened. “Where’s the sun?” I couldn’t see it in the gray sky.
Pirie paused in thought. “Maybe the sun hides when it’s really cold like today.”
“But Fa said the sun rises every day. That means cold days too.”
“Well, it isn’t up there now, is it?”
I struggled over the frozen grass, my paws skidding against the brittle stems. “I guess not …” I noticed a narrow gap in the fence at the side of our patch. I hadn’t been this far from the den before. A guilty flutter caught my tail and I gave myself a shake. I glanced over my shoulder. The den was still in view—that meant it was all right. I padded toward the gap in the fence that led to the neighboring patch. My eyes widened. Something glittered among short blades of frosted grass. A huge, flat, silvery circle. A twinkle of color crossed over it, a hint of yellow and gold. I had to squint when I looked at the circle—the sparkle stung my eyes.
Pirie was by my side. “What is it?”
I lapped at my muzzle. “I’m not sure, but I think …” My eyes shot to the sky, then down to the brilliant circle. “I think the sun may be trapped down there.”
I felt my paws advancing. I slid under the gap beneath the fence and squinted at the circle. Pirie scrambled behind me—I could sense the warmth of his fur. From the corner of my eye I saw his breath escape as tendrils of mist.
We weren’t supposed to leave the patch alone. Greatma had warned us to stay in the den. But what if the sun was down there, beneath the ice? What if it was in trouble? Did that mean the frost would stay forever? I could feel it tingling over my back, sharpening my hairs to glinting points. Without the sun to warm the land, everything would freeze. The earth would grow hard; the mice would vanish. The sky would darken into endless night.
I turned to Pirie, my whiskers flexing.
“We have no choice,” I told him gravely. “We have to rescue the sun.”
* * *
The foxes shunted me down a tunnel that plunged under the earth. One strutted in front of me, the dark contour of her body barely visible among the shadows. Others snapped at my heels. I stumbled, gulping for breath. I could hear Haiki’s whimpers behind me, and the scrabble of more paws along the tunnel. How many of them were there?
The fox in front of me entered the den. Starlight peeked between tiny gaps in the ceiling, the underbelly of a tree. It looked like a tangle of brown rats’ tails. Whiskery roots hung over the den, dangling tiny clods of soil. I blinked, adapting to the darkness. The odor of warm fur reached my nose and my ears flattened in confusion. There was no hint of ash or cinder.
But there was nothing comforting in the hard stares that greeted me and Haiki as we backed against the wall of the den. Eight sets of eyes bored into us.
The fox who’d first seized on us—the one they called Flint—pressed ahead of the others, a growl revealing the tips of his fangs. In the half-light, the dark fur on his face made his eyes look like grea
t black voids.
“They’re going to kill us,” Haiki said, nuzzling his head against my shoulder. I gulped, my body stiff.
Flint’s teeth glinted. “Death is all you deserve, you filthy lice.” The others spat in agreement.
A young, dark-furred fox stalked up to Flint’s side. “Don’t kill them right away. Ask them what they want!”
Another young fox appeared next to her. “Simmi’s right.” He slammed down a furious forepaw. “We should find out what they know about the Tailless Seer.”
Haiki yelped but I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t make a sound. I squeezed my paw pads against the ground, willing my legs not to tremble. A pointy-faced vixen edged between the others. “Shall we start by gnawing the fur off their forelegs?” A pink tongue whipped menacingly over her muzzle. She took a step toward us. “Tell us, ghost-creatures—what is the Tailless Seer planning?”
Haiki was whining. “We don’t know what you mean! We don’t know any seer!”
I frowned. Why had the vixen mentioned our forelegs? I glanced at her legs but it was too dark to see any marks. I looked more closely at the foxes, examining their eyes. There was no sign of red, no gunk encrusted on their mouths.
What had the large fox said?
Slaves of the Tailless Seer.
They weren’t the Taken: these foxes were bright-eyed and alert. Their fur smelled alive. Beneath their aggression I sensed real fear. My ears flicked forward. “They mean the Mage!”
Haiki didn’t seem to hear me. “Please don’t hurt us! We don’t know anything!”
The large male hissed impatiently. “They’re not going to talk.”
“What are we going to do with them?” said the pointy-faced vixen, her muzzle contorting with disgust. “We can’t keep them prisoner.”
“We can’t let them go!” barked the young male. “They’ll run straight back to him. We’ll never be safe!”
I leaped to my paws. “You’ve got it wrong!” The large fox called Flint hissed at me but I didn’t recoil. I had to explain, and fast. “You think we’re from the Mage’s skulk—that we’re slaves of—” What had they called him? “Of the ‘Tailless Seer.’ But we’re not. We’re normal, healthy … We were running from those foxes when we reached your meadow. That’s why we were so hungry and tired. It’s why we ate your food. We weren’t thinking.”
“Don’t listen to her!” urged the young dark-furred fox. “It’s a trick.”
I locked eyes on the pointy-faced vixen. “Look at us. Do we seem like mindless slaves? You can tell we’re like you, I know you can. Just like I can tell. We’re running from the same threat.” My eyes trailed over the other foxes. They blinked back at me in silence. Even Haiki settled down, his whimpers subsiding into sniffles.
The pointy-faced vixen made a sudden movement toward us. Haiki yelped and threw himself against the wall but I stood still, my ears flat against my head. She stared into my eyes and I stared back. Her gaze trailed over my foreleg. She sighed at length. “They aren’t pleached.”
It was as though all the foxes released their breaths at the same time. I saw the tension ease around their muzzles.
Flint dipped his head. “Karo is right. These are free foxes.”
The dark young vixen glowered. “So what are they doing here?”
I turned to face her. “I told you, we ran from the Taken—what you call ‘pleached foxes.’ We were crossing the Wildlands and came to a strange place, where the grass is dead and the air smells rank. That’s where they found us.”
“The Ghost Valley,” murmured the young male. The other foxes exchanged nervous glances.
“Then there was … this burst of yelps that broke into a screech. A beast, something larger than a fox I think.” I stiffened at the memory.
The sharp-snouted vixen, the one they called Karo, tapped her brush on the floor of the den. When she spoke there was a growl in her voice. “Could be a coyote. There’s a pack that hunts beyond the lake, though I’ve never known them to cross into the Ghost Valley.”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, never having heard of a coyote. “But the Taken raced after it. We managed to escape but we were so tired.” I shook my head.
Karo glanced at Flint, then back at me. “You’ve obviously never seen a coyote. Pleached foxes wouldn’t have chased one. They’re dangerous.”
“Did the skulk have a leader?” Flint cut in. “Did you notice a free fox among them, one that wasn’t pleached?”
Again that strange term. Pleached. Bristling, I thought of Karka, the one-eyed vixen who had led the attack on my family. I remembered what Siffrin had said about her—that she too was a servant to the Mage.
… But unlike Tarr and the others, she does his bidding freely.
She hadn’t been one of the Taken.
When I thought of the foxes who’d chased us in the valley, I pictured dead, red-rimmed eyes.
“I don’t think so.”
Karo leaned over to Flint. “She says they chased a coyote. Why would they do that?”
The dark-faced fox was examining me. “She probably got it wrong. She’s only a cub.”
“Born so long before malinta?”
“Must have been.”
They looked at me searchingly. I knew what they meant—that I was born before day and night were equal length, before the buds unfurled in the trees. That there was something strange about me.
The vixen spoke. “Where are your parents, Cub? Where is your skulk?”
They’d probably know if I lied. “I’m from the Graylands. The Mage, the one you call the Tailless Seer … he sent his skulk to kill my family. I got away and so did my brother. He’s lost somewhere in the Wildlands. I’m going to find him.” My voice snagged on the knot of rage that lived in the pit of my belly.
Karo’s ears twisted forward. “And your friend?” She gave Haiki a vaguely disapproving look.
His voice quavered. “I met Isla in the Wildlands. We’re the same, me and her. The Mage stole my family.”
“You’re from the Graylands too?”
“I’m from the Lower Wildlands.” He glanced at me, then back to the long-snouted vixen.
“The Tailless Seer took your family away?”
Haiki spoke in a quiet, determined voice. “I wasn’t there, but I know it was him, or members of his skulk. Other skulks have disappeared. They weren’t the first. But I have a plan.”
The vixen tilted her head curiously. “What sort of plan?”
Haiki lowered his gaze. “I’m going to find the Elders. I’m going to get their help.”
The vixen’s eyes widened. She exchanged a quick look with Flint.
Flint took a step forward so he was level with Karo. “You shouldn’t have stolen our food.”
“I’m sorry,” Haiki whimpered. “That was my fault. Isla had nothing to do with it.”
I was grateful for his loyalty, but I was just as much to blame. “I ate the rabbit too,” I pointed out.
“I found it,” Haiki insisted. “I should have realized it was a skulk’s cache. Sometimes I don’t think …” He looked to Flint and Karo, wide-eyed, his tail giving a sudden unexpected wag. “We can catch you another rabbit! Or … or two rabbits, three!”
Haiki was going too far, making promises we couldn’t keep. “You’re right,” I cut in. “We shouldn’t have taken your cache. Hunger makes you do reckless things.” I looked along the wall of foxes who were still blocking our way out of the den. A pang of irritation touched my whiskers. “We didn’t mean any harm. Maybe I hoped the Wildlands would be friendlier than the Graylands. I guess I got that wrong.”
“Isla!” hissed Haiki, flashing me a warning look.
“That’s not much of an apology,” Flint pointed out.
I stood stiffly, unwilling to say any more. These foxes had bullied and shunted us, had threatened us with death. Now that they knew we weren’t the Taken, they should let us go. My head was thumping. I wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness.
The vi
xen lowered herself to a sitting position. “We’ve heard of other foxes disappearing.”
Flint spoke sharply. “Karo, you don’t know that we can trust them.”
Her ears rotated and she held my gaze. “We can, though, can’t we?”
I dipped my head in acknowledgment.
Karo continued. “There’s a small heath before you reach our patch. It neighbors the Ghost Valley. A skulk lived there, our cousins. But there’s no trace of them now.”
“One of our foxes has gone too,” said the young male quietly. “Liro, Ma’s brother. He was out one night and never came back. He was the fastest fox in the skulk and as good a hunter as Ma.”
“That could have been anything,” the dark-furred vixen pointed out. “An accident … the furless.”
Karo’s slim red tail gave a jerk. “He was always so sharp-witted. The last fox you’d ever imagine to be caught in a furless trap.”
I cleared my throat. “Is the Ghost Valley where the Taken live?”
She tipped her head. “The pleached foxes? No, not there. They lurk in the forest beyond it and roam the valley by night. For a long time it just lay there, festering. Not anymore. The valley is growing, bleeding into our lands. We weren’t always this nervous,” she added, almost apologetic. “We’re no longer safe in our own den.”
A scruffy old fox settled down along the edge of the den. “Don’t start that again, Karo. We’re not going anywhere. This is our patch. We can’t just run—we have to defend it.”
“Defend it how?” she replied.
Flint’s tail thumped the ground. “Day and night draw even, it’s almost malinta. With more maa, we can fight them!”
Karo’s ears rotated. “We’re outnumbered, we don’t stand a chance.”
The skulk started talking over one another, yapping anxiously, as though we weren’t there.
“I can fight!” yelped the dark-furred female, slashing an invisible adversary with her claws.
The young male gnashed his teeth. “I’ll fight too!”
Karo’s nose twitched on her pointed face. “How are we supposed to take on so many pleached foxes?”
“Foxcraft!” yipped the dark-furred male.
The Elders Page 5
