Vixen Hunted

by Christopher Kincaid

  Kit gnawed on the bread. Her eyes glowed with a light of their own. He blinked, startled. It had to be just a trick of the light.

  Timothy's hand worked quickly. His tight letters streamed across the empty page, although there wasn't quite enough light. He popped another piece of biscuit into his mouth.

  Kit bumped his elbow. "A shepherd who can write? You are not a simple shepherd."

  Timothy ignored her. Words flowed onto the page. It felt good to work his concerns into ink.

  "You spelled that wrong."

  "Huh? What?" Timothy blinked.

  Kit worked at her bread. She grinned.

  "You can read too?" he asked.

  "I have brains as well as beauty. I taught myself to write and read. A little, I have to sadly admit. I am nothing but humble after all! Is that a drawing?"

  Timothy replaced the ink pot's stopper. "Yes."

  "My, you are an interesting shepherd. Drawing and writing. I've only known shepherds who thought of sheep and of lambs." Her luminous eyes drew close. Her brows knit. "I am neither a sheep nor a lamb. Remember that tonight."

  Timothy tamped his anger. The remark cut too close to what his mother often said. "If you are as good a judge of people as you say, you would know I am not one to take advantage." He allowed some of his anger to edge his voice.

  "I know you are not. Your cute blushes tell me enough." She leaned back. "This bread will break my teeth. We should be able to risk a small fire and put that pot to good use."

  Timothy unstrapped his bedroll from his pack. He tossed it at her. "I will take the first watch."

  "No need for that. My ears are good." Kit held the biscuit between her teeth and unfurled the bedroll.

  "Even when you are asleep? I will stand watch."

  "Yes, even when asleep. I am not like you." She flopped onto the bedroll. "Do what you want." The lamb curled next to her.

  Timothy watched her back. He wiped his brow. Night did little to lessen the heat. He leaned back to listen to his thoughts and the sounds of Kit working at her biscuit.

  The afternoon sun scorched Timothy's brow. Kit sweated beneath her cloak. The lamb frolicked ahead of them. They passed a few farmers going about their business. A small village, kept far off the road, crouched on a hill overlooking the pasture and fields.

  "I want to strangle them just for making me sweat under this." Kit furled the cloak. "I can't help that I am what I am." Sweat plastered her red locks to her face.

  What is she then? I hope she doesn't turn out to be a witch or something. That would be just my luck. "We should make it to Fairhaven tonight." Timothy shaded his eyes. "I see something moving."

  Her hood moved. Kit cursed. "Dogs. I hate dogs!"

  "They don't usually cause trouble." Timothy touched the scar on his shoulder. Only once did he have problems with a farmer and his hound, but that was Kyle's fault.

  Two bellowing farm hounds approached, and the lamb's ears perked. The hounds stopped and tested the air, their matted fur sticking out in all directions. They lowered their gaze to Kit, and she tensed.

  "Stupid dogs."

  Both dogs howled and raced straight for her. Kit ran, and the hounds barreled right past Timothy. She raced toward a single tree standing a short distance off the road, her cloak flapping behind her. The lamb dashed after the hounds. Kit leapt into the air, snagged a branch, and flipped around like a town festival acrobat. She hooked the branch with her legs and pulled herself up into the tree. The hounds bayed and pawed the tree.

  The lamb beside Timothy bristled, but she did not run. Timothy felt the urge join Kit in the tree, but he remained still. The dogs acted like he wasn't there. They should have gone after the lamb first. Strange how they ignored everything except Kit.

  "Aren't you going to do something?" Kit crouched on her perch. Her hood slipped back enough to show a shock of red clinging to her forehead.

  The lamb beside Timothy tensed. With a bleat, she charged into the nearest hound with her shoulder. The hound twisted and growled before returning to bay at Kit.

  What was the lamb doing? He had never seen anything like it. What lamb would attack an angry dog?

  The lamb tugged at the dog's fur and looked over her shoulder at Timothy.

  "Baa. Baa!"

  "What can I do?" Timothy raised his voice above the noise.

  "Throw them food or something. I don't know." Kit's cloak dangled.

  The nearest hound jumped and caught the cloak in his teeth. Kit teetered but held on. "Do…something!" The branch groaned.

  The lamb smashed into the dog, sending it tumbling. She puffed out her chest and stared the mutt down. "Baa! Baa!"

  The dog climbed to its feet, dazed. As the second dog continued to try to climb the tree, the lamb crashed into the dazed dog again. She drove her hoof into its nose. The dog yelped and fled. The second dog noticed Kit's cloak, and Kit strained against the weight.

  The branch cracked.

  "Tim…my—"

  The branch gave up. Kit and tree branch flattened the dog in a shower of leaves. Timothy rushed over.

  "Are you all right?"

  Kit winced and rubbed her bottom. Somehow the hood stayed on her head through all that. "No thanks to you."

  The dog pulled itself out of the tangle, staggering and eying Kit. The lamb nipped at the hound's tail as it staggered into a lope. The lamb hung on behind.

  Timothy offered his hand. "I've never seen dogs do that." He watched the lamb. "Or a lamb do that, for that matter."

  "Every time a dog sees me, they have to give chase. She took his hand. "I hate dogs."

  "So that happens every time?" Timothy hoisted her, leaning on his crook. She had more strength than her thin hand suggested, and he almost upended on her. The lamb returned with a tuft of gray fur dangling from her mouth.

  Kit winced and adjusted her skirt. "Dogs and humans are too much alike." She eyed him from beneath her red locks. She ruffled the lamb's head. "Thank you, little one. You were more helpful than your master."

  "I can't disagree with you there."

  "Do lambs attack dogs often?"

  "Never. Sheep are not aggressive." He studied the lamb. She looked like every lamb he'd ever seen. The lamb met his eyes. Intelligence seemed to glimmer in those deep brown eyes. It had to be his imagination. The heat had to be addling his mind.

  Kit fanned her blouse. "Shall we go? I don't want to eat another one of those rocks you call biscuits for supper. I hope there won't be any more dogs."

  Chapter 2

  "See?" Timothy asked. "I said we would make it tonight."

  Kit yawned into her hand. "More like tomorrow morning."

  Fairhaven thrust out of the farmlands. Brown vines hugged the familiar stone wall, scruffy grass assailed the ramparts, and dawn warred with the moon. Timothy forced his feet to move. Kit trudged beside him, her shoulders slumped, but she insisted on making it to the town regardless of the time of night.

  "It's not my fault you were run up two more trees. Dogs really must like you, and you are the one who didn't want to stop." Timothy shifted his crook to his other hand. "Still, hounds are better than your men finding us."

  "Baa!" The lamb staggered from exhaustion.

  Kit yawned large enough to crack her jaw. "I'm hungry." She gave him a sidelong glance. "You owe me supper. Well, breakfast now. Those rocks you made me eat do not count."

  Fairhaven's gate loomed. Near the weathered doors that barred the dirt road, a militiaman lounged, eyes closed, his wide-brimmed helmet gleaming pink in the infant light. His halberd rested against the wall. Beneath the helmet was Kyle's familiar bearded face.

  The lamb perked, tottered ahead, and rammed into the militiaman's shin. "Baa. Baa."

  The militiaman snorted and reached for his halberd. His brow creased at the sight of the lamb bleating and looking at the gate.

  "Sleeping on duty again, Kyle?" Timothy waved.

  "Timothy!" Kyle returned his halberd to the wall. "I wasn't expecting yo
u for another few weeks. Is this noisy girl yours? Wait, where are your other sheep?"

  Timothy's smile twisted. "Trouble found me." He glanced at Kit. "Bandits stole my sheep."

  Kyle shook his head. "Sorry to hear that, my boy. Sheep are expensive these days. I guess you could go back to work for Old Man Malory. His writing boy didn't work out."

  He squinted against the rising sun. "You are welcome to stay at my place until you get back on your feet. Henrietta might bake me something with you around." He smiled at Kit. "And who is this lovely lady?"

  Kit swiped a red lock from her face and smiled. "I'm Kit, Timmy's wife. It is a pleasure to meet you!"

  Timothy choked. "Wife?"

  "Hush." She buried an elbow into his ribs.

  "Wife?" Kyle whistled between his teeth. "You have a wife? Since when? Where did you find such a pretty lass?"

  Kit twirled a red lock. "I found him, Master Kyle."

  Kyle shook his head. "You know what this does to me? Now I will have to give into Henrietta's pestering. Women are always in a hurry."

  "You don't know the half of it." Timothy stared at Kit. She shot back an innocent look.

  Kyle stroked his beard. "Well, maybe if you could ring one, it is about time I do too."

  Kit elbowed Timothy in the ribs again. She flicked her gaze to the gate. Her foot tapped the packed dirt road. Timothy took the hint. "Mind letting us in, Kyle?"

  Kyle grinned. "She is like Henrietta, always in a hurry, eh? You should know, Timothy. Things are a little touchy in town. Some high lord or something is visiting. It has everyone on edge. Best to keep quiet until he leaves."

  "You were always the one landing us in trouble, Kyle," Timothy said.

  Kit fluttered her eyelashes. "I can't promise not to be too loud. Especially at night."

  Timothy groaned.

  Kyle burst out laughing. "You caught more trouble than I can cause." He rapped his knuckles on the door in a pattern. The heavy gate groaned open.

  "Just stay out of trouble and try not to wake the town tonight, eh? We need to catch up sometime. Wait till Henrietta hears about you and your lady!"

  Timothy ran a hand through his hair, and Kit snagged his arm. "I can't promise that, Master Kyle. But I will try to be a little quieter than I usually am."

  Kyle's laughter drowned out the sounds of the gate. The lamb charged ahead, and Kit shoved Timothy through.

  Fairhaven woke well before dawn, and scores of people bustled about their early morning business. Several yawning errand boys lugged burlap sacks on their shoulders. The faint scent of baking bread reminded Timothy that all he had to eat was hard travel bread. Several familiar-looking people nodded at Timothy. Unlike Kyle, Timothy struggled to keep names and faces straight.

  Kit pulled him into a tight alley where the scent of bread was stronger. Kit doubled over laughing. "I like you, shepherd. You are so much fun!" She stabbed a finger into his chest. "Don't get any ideas. All shepherds are perverts under that innocent exterior!"

  "I'm not…uh…I…" Timothy took a deep breath. "I only promised as far as Fairhaven. Well, we are in Fairhaven."

  Kit turned her back. Her hood rustled. "I am hungry. Let's go there!" She pointed to an inn across from the alley.

  "I kept my promise. I have things to do, you know."

  Kit pouted. "I guess you are right. You did keep your promise. Thank you." Her stomach grumbled audibly. She pressed her hands to it and regarded him from beneath her bangs.

  "I don't have any money. I guess I will be okay. I am sure I can earn money for food…somehow. As long as those men don't find me, I should be okay. Maybe. Go on. I am sure you need to talk to someone about your stolen sheep." She turned away. "So hungry."

  "Baa!" The lamb glared at Timothy.

  Timothy rubbed his forehead. He was a fool. "All right. Fine. I could use some breakfast too."

  Kit shot him a triumphant smile. "I am quite a good performer, aren't I?"

  Timothy shook his head. A helpless grin stole across his lips.

  The inn's common room held several people breaking their night fasts. Timothy selected a table in the far corner and rested his crook against the nearby wall. The lamb clambered onto the bench. Timothy had forgotten about her! He hoped the innkeeper did not mind.

  Kit glared at Timothy with her hands on her hips. "Not going to offer a chair for your adoring, dangerously hungry wife, husband?"

  Several men laughed and shook their heads.

  "Just sit down." Timothy felt a headache coming on. He yawned. He wanted sleep more than he wanted food. His stomach disagreed.

  "I will disregard your negligence this once!" Kit swept the men watching her with a smile before settling beside Timothy on the bench.

  A young girl in a gleaming white apron scurried over. "What can I get you, sir?" The girl blinked at the lamb.

  "Cider and your house's stew. Oh, and whatever greens you have available." Timothy nodded at the lamb.

  "Baa!"

  "Stew for breakfast?" Kit wrinkled her nose. "Make that oatmeal with fruit for us both. And cider. Hurry now."

  The server glanced at the lamb. "Right…away, ma'am." She mumbled something and scurried to the kitchens.

  Kit kicked Timothy under the table. "Watch your eyes."

  Timothy grunted. "They were not anywhere. We are not married, remember? Do you know how much that will cost me? Stew from yesterday is cheaper."

  "And that is the problem. I want my husband to look and know he has a wife without equal," Kit said. "I won't eat yesterday's stew to break my fast."

  A whiskered man across the room laughed. "You have a lovely handful there, fella. Odd choice of pet too." The other men saluted with their mugs.

  Kit nodded at the man. "He needs reminding of that regularly!"

  Timothy lowered his voice. "What did you mean to do here anyway? Won't the men chasing you think to look here? This is the only town nearby."

  "Right now, I am keeping myself from eating your arm. That girl better hurry up!" Kit grabbed his arm. "It is nice of you to show concern for me, husband."

  "Stop calling me that." He pulled away.

  "If you say so, dearest."

  The serving girl reappeared, hesitating when she placed a bowl of greens in front of the lamb. She frowned and shook her head before scurrying off. Timothy sighed. He had a strange lamb that attacked dogs and an even stranger girl. He took a long pull of his cider. The lamb munched at the bowl of greens, her front hooves braced against the table. Timothy kept an eye on the door. "What do you want from me?"

  A bead of sweat escaped her hairline. She wrinkled her nose. "I hoped the smell of fruit would help. People around here need to take baths. Especially you, Timmy. How can you stand it?" She paused to spoon her oatmeal.

  The common room did not smell that bad to Timothy. He shrugged and stabbed his spoon into his bowl. At least the oatmeal tasted good, even if he had to listen to her tongue. The inn was generous with the raspberries.

  "Well?"

  Kit met his eyes. "Just a moment ago you were going to leave me." Her mood changed. Her eyes no longer held mischief, and a few lines crinkled around them. He noticed the gray bags, the exhaustion. She had more trouble than he could deal with, but he had to offer what help he could. It was only right, and Aunt Mae wouldn't expect anything else.

  "I still might. I probably should." Timothy watched the face under the cloak's cowl. He ignored a rivulet of sweat that ran down his chest. Fairhaven boiled compared to the fields. She opened her mouth, just to close it. She chewed on her lower lip and stirred her oatmeal. Her gaze flicked to him and back to the bowl.

  One of the men in the common room stood and stretched. "Time to get to the fields." He nodded at Timothy. "Best of luck to ya, fella, with that one!"

  Timothy nodded and gestured with his mug. Most of the common room left with the man.

  "Baa!" The lamb looked at Timothy's mug.

  "Thirsty?" He poured the last of his cider into the lamb's d
ish and dropped his wooden spoon into his own empty bowl. Kit scraped at hers but did not look up.

  "If I am to help, I have to know."

  "Know?" Kit stared at her spoon.

  "About you and whatever trouble you have. All of it."

  Timothy didn't have a clue what he could do about it. Hide her? He snorted. What was he thinking? He wasn't a hero, but he still had to offer. Curse his conscience! If only Aunt Mae knew how much trouble her moral lessons caused him.

  Kit said nothing.

  Timothy scrubbed his hair. "Okay, I will ask one more time. Do you want my help?"

  Her hooded head shook.

  Fine. It was better for him at least.

  "Ready to go?" Timothy asked the lamb. The lamb's ears flattened.

  He looked down at the girl. "I wish you the best in whatever you do. May God be with you."

  The lamb followed Timothy outside. He did what he had promised. He had given Kit a chance too. So why did he feel like he had done something wrong?

  The streets broiled, even though it was still morning. Timothy stroked the lamb's ears. Now what was he going to do? He didn't have enough money to start over. He doubted the magistrate could do anything about his stolen sheep. Those men were too well clothed to be footpads. Old man Malory might be the only option. Timothy did not look forward to being in the same room with that sour old scholar. He looked at the sky. Kyle would be off duty now.

  Timothy's boots clicked the cobblestones in time with the lamb's hooves. His mind drifted to Kit. No. She would be fine. Kyle and Malory. That was where his mind needed to be focused.

  The streets had filled up considerably since they'd first entered the inn. The clang of smithies set a rhythm to the babble. Timothy's feet dragged. After walking all of yesterday and last night, a full stomach demanded sleep. His eyelids drooped.

  A hand grabbed his shoulder.

  Timothy yelled and staggered back. A passing errand boy dropped his burlap sack, and flour clouded the air. The boy gave Timothy a dark look.

  Kit fisted her hips. "You would think I am a demon or something with a reaction like that."