Shepherd Hunted (10 page)

Kit coughed and spat out ash. Her legs burned and almost gave out from under her as she stood up. Gray ash and soot coated one side of her. She felt the stuff in her shoes. Much of it still danced in the air around them. Timothy groaned and tried to raise himself behind her. The man was still heavy even if he looked like a hairy skeleton. That beard just had to go. Later. Heat still billowed from the blocked gate. The fire’s hands tried reaching for them through the ruined opening. Kit knew stone didn’t burn, but the fire burned so hot that she wouldn’t be surprised if it started to melt like wax. Somehow the ash had gotten up her skirts. She moved her tail and frowned. She hadn’t been able to wash and comb her tail properly for days, and now it felt as if she had half the town stuffed in the fur. She bent over to help the shepherd stand and almost joined him on the ground. Her arms trembled. She could still feel his arms pressed against her chest.

“I told you not to grab,” she said.

Yuzu sat on the other side of Timothy, breathing hard and staring at the conflagration. Kit looked at Timothy’s wan face. He needed more food. They needed supplies if they were going to get back on the road. At least they were on the eastern side of the town.

Timothy offered her a grin. His teeth gleamed against his blackened face.

“What am I going to do?” Yuzu asked “Hoss is strong, but with Mira and Colt…They couldn’t have gotten out. We almost didn’t.” Tears slid down her face. The fire reached closer to them.

“We are going east,” Kit said.

Timothy’s eyes widened. “Still?”

Kit looked around.
We have to gather supplies. Maybe a cart. I can’t lug him until he has his strength back.
Pennants sagged on the crest of the far hill, and military tents dotted the area. With the light fading, Kit doubted any of her human companions could see anything beyond the light of the flames.
Should we brave the soldiers? Not like we have much choice.
“Where else can I go?” she asked.

Timothy wiped his face with a shaking hand.

Kit touched his shoulder.
Fool man still worries about his note. Maybe I was too hard on him.
“I have to see for myself. I need to remember more than I do.”

He nodded.

Yuzu stared at the fire with her lower lip quivering. “They are all gone. Allen. Mira. What am I going to do now?”

Kit bent over and hooked Timothy’s arms over her shoulders. “Do what you want. We’re leaving.”

Timothy sighed and clambered back onto her back. Kit’s hood, plastered to her hair, tugged. Somehow it had remained on her head through all of that. The fabric smelled burned though. The scent of books and wool, his scent, sneaked through the sooty corruption that drenched the air.
Darn nose causes me no end of trouble. Fool shepherd had better be worth this effort.
Kit’s thoughts skirted around a dangerous thought.
No. I don’t feel
that
way toward him. Not at all.
“It’s your fault,” she said over her shoulder.

His arms loosened around her chest. “I know. I should have told you.”

Kit shook her head and started across a field strewn with discarded clothing, furniture, and other memories from people who managed to escape Honheim’s madness. Yuzu hesitated, glancing between Kit and the blackening stone walls. She smeared her cheeks with a hand, stood, and followed.

“You can’t let it go, can you?” Kit forced her legs to work. It wouldn’t help her image as a heroine if she dropped him in the dirt.

“But I—”

“I hurt you too,” Kit said. She took a deep breath, pressing his arms against her chest. “That makes us even.” Her hood rustled with his head shake.
I wonder if the fabric melted to my head.
She moved her ears. It almost felt that way.

The air cooled as they increased their distance from the fire. Kit felt grateful that the hill had a gentle incline.
So tired.
But she refused to show it. Her shepherd needed her.

“Where are the soldiers?” Timothy lifted his head from Kit’s shoulder. Wagon and tent silhouettes broke the hill’s crest. Waning moonlight slivered around their edges.

“What soldiers?” Yuzu asked from behind.

“Last time, I…was watching people trying to leave and there were soldiers surrounding the town. They…shot at people.”

“It doesn’t surprise me.” Yuzu’s whisper touched Kit’s ears.

Kit topped the rise and paused for breath. The faint, onion scent of disease and of fear lingered. She lowered Timothy to the grass and looked at the dark-haired girl. “If you are going to stay, be useful and see if you can find food, blankets, and other supplies.”

“I can help,” Timothy tried to stand.

“You stay put and let me handle it,” Kit said. He grimaced and sat back.

“I…I don’t know what I should do. Everyone is gone. I…I am alone.” Yuzu shook her head. “They couldn’t  have made it out of that, could they?”

Kit sighed and tugged at her hood. The ash cemented the fabric.
I bet it could stand on its own. I must be tired to think about this!
“I don’t know. You know them better than I do, but I doubt many made it out of that.” Kit hoped the fool girl would leave.

Yuzu frowned into the darkness.

“Make yourself useful while you think.” Kit moved toward the tents.

It didn’t take long for the scent of decay to pull at her nostrils, but compared to the town, the rank smell didn’t bother her. Inside the larger tents, men filled cots or lay where they had collapsed. Kit guessed each of the camps surrounding the town looked the same. She found a couple of large, oiled leather packs and stuffed them with whatever food she could find. She moved between the tents, gathering what little food and supplies she could find. Inside another small tent, free from bodies thankfully, she peeled off her cloak and proceeded to make herself a little more comfortable. She found a clean kerchief and tied it over her ears.
It wouldn’t do to have Yuzu see me. The girl is going to be a pain if she doesn’t leave.
While she worked, her mind wandered.

The entire detour to Honheim had almost proved disastrous. Timothy had almost died, and Kit had learned little more about her home. Belafonte’s location still remained vague: in a forest somewhere to the east. She learned that it was guarded by papal soldiers. That alone meant someone still lived there—why else would the Church station troops there? Timothy’s dusty book was likely wrong, but the possibility of being the last of her kind frightened her. Where did she fit in if she was the last fox? She had to know, yet the idea of knowing terrified her. Not that she would admit it. Not even to her shepherd.

She dug through her memories as she dug through the fallen soldiers’ belongings. She remembered feeling safe, as safe as Timothy made her feel. Trees. Tall trees and old. There was a bubbling river too.

Screams, fire.

Her breath caught. Those were new.

She remembered running. The heat of the fire seemed like a hand trying to grab her. A man with red hair pulled at her hand. She didn’t know why he didn’t pick her up. Her short legs had to take three steps for every one of his. He carried a sword. That was why. A sword glistened red in his other hand. It glistened with more than reflected flames. Kit looked behind her. A tall woman with streaming red hair offered a terrified smile. A grand crimson tail, touched on the tip with snow, streamed behind her. Suddenly, her eyes widened. Black steel blossomed on her chest, and she plunged to the ground. Kit wailed in her mind. The red-haired man grabbed her then. Tears slid down his cheeks.

Kit rushed back to the present. The memory left her shaking, and she swallowed dryness.
Were those my parents?
She shook her head.
Not now. I have to take care of Timothy.
She smeared her damp face on her sleeve and left the tent. She dragged in two overstuffed packs and thumped them beside Timothy, startling him from sleep.

She dug a strip of jerky from one of the packs and handed it to him. “Eat.” She shoved another strip into her own mouth.

He took it and squinted at her. “What’s wrong, Kit?”

Now of all times he decides to see.
“Nothing. Just tired.” She slumped onto the grass beside him, realizing her strip of salted meat was gone already.
When did I last eat?
She pulled out another strip, a pair of hard biscuits, and a water skin. She hoped the food didn’t pass the disease, but they had to eat something. Timothy needed to eat before he skewered her with his ribs.

Kit tensed at the sound of footsteps. Yuzu approached with a single, drooping pack. She tossed it to the ground and wiped her cheeks. “W…where are we going?”

“We?” Kit said around a mouthful.

“I..I don’t have anywhere to go now. I don’t have anyone.” The girl glanced away. “Can I…come with you?”

 Kit curled her lip.
I just want to travel with my shepherd.
“No. We are going without you.”

Yuzu’s shoulders quivered, and she bit her lip.

 “Just let her come with us,” Timothy said. “You know how it feels to be alone, Kit.”

“We don’t need her,” Kit said.

“Kit.”

Kit growled. “Fine. Just don’t go gawking at her, wool brain.”

Yuzu let out a long breath. “I…thank you. Do you know where you are going?”

“Belafonte,” Timothy said.

Yuzu froze. She looked at them through her dark locks. “Why do you want to go there?”

“So you know something about it?” Kit asked.
Might as well make her useful. Darn shepherd. How am I going to take care of my tail now?

Yuzu shook her head, and her voice was tight. “Cursed. I heard a story about the only man who managed to get out. Somehow he escaped the church soldiers stationed out there.”

“Wait!” Kit brushed back her bangs. “So people know about it?”

“Why wouldn’t they? It is only a few weeks journey on horseback. The Church posted soldiers to protect us from the demons that used to live there.” Yuzu tilted her head. “Why do you want to go there?”

Timothy squinted at Kit and said, “So your grandmother didn’t have as far to go as we first thought.”

“Tell me more,” Kit told Yuzu.

“Well, the man was out of his head, talking about fox spirits and skeletons that dance. He…the story said the man was possessed by a fox demon. Soon after arriving in town, he tore out a woman’s throat with his teeth.”

Timothy gazed at Kit and rubbed his neck. He grinned, and Kit rolled her eyes. “So he was here?” she asked.

Yuzu nodded without looking at her. “I not only heard the story, but I…I saw him. He was in a cage. He kept lunging at the bars and growling, and…” Yuzu glanced at Kit and away again. “He had red hair.”

“Are you sure it was him?” Timothy asked.

“The man who told me the story pointed him out. He said it was his sister that the man killed.”

“We will just have to see if that story is true for ourselves.” Kit said. Timothy yawned, and she touched the back of his hand. “Sleep. I will keep watch.”

Yuzu stood. “I will take the first watch. You need to sleep too.”

Kit sighed.
I don’t trust her yet, but at least she smells honest.
She tossed Timothy a blanket that she had tied onto one of the packs. “Sleep would do us well.”

* * *

Timothy and the two women spent the better part of the week traveling east, away from Honheim. They were not the only ones. Small clumps of people moved in a daze with their lives strapped to carts or, more often, their backs. Timothy felt grateful for Kit. Somehow she convinced a couple to part with their cart and mule. He didn’t see how much money she handed to them, but he doubted that he could have walked much farther. After buying the mule and cart, Kit set a faster pace. She said they were too close to Honheim to stop at any of the villages. After seeing the second village empty of people with a trench full of half-buried bodies, Timothy agreed.

Each day brought deepening cold. Variegated leaves floated on the wind and crunched underfoot. Early winter chased a short autumn.

The two women nattered over him like mothers. Kit was the worst. She made him walk beside the cart every morning while fretting over their lack of food. Kit skipped meals, shoving hard biscuits, salty meat, and apples at him like he was a pig needing to be fattened. As his strength began to return, he hoped Kit wasn’t pushing herself too hard. He knew little about foxes. Perhaps they didn’t need as much food and sleep as people? But then, he knew from past experience that Kit could out-eat him. He wasn’t sure if she could even get sick. Was she that much different from him? Yuzu also offered some of her meals, but for the most part the girl kept to herself. She spent a lot of time watching him and studying people they passed. She spent a fair bit of time pulling on her lower lip as she watched Kit.

On the seventh evening, a village came into view. Wooden houses were clustered on top of a flat-topped hill.

Kit looked Timothy up and down.

“You look like you have enough padding that you won’t stick me,” she said. Her breath frosted the air.

Yuzu wrapped her arms around herself. “A bed would be nice. And a fire.”

“Don’t get ideas,” Kit said. “I can warm Timmy better than you.”

Timothy liked the thought of Kit’s warm tail. The wool cloak Kit had found for him did a fair job keeping some of the cold away, but he missed the coat she had bought him. He scratched his beard. It itched, but at least it kept his face warm.

He was out of breath by the time they topped the hill. Kit refused to let him ride in the cart. The dirt road cut through the town and rolled down the other side of the hill. In the far distance stood a single mountain surrounded by a green smear. Snow began to fall.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Kit shoved Timothy. It was more gentle than normal.

“Tea. Hot tea. And soup!” Yuzu said. Her ears were red with cold.

The Warm Bed blended with the other houses except for a carved sign creaking in the wind. Kit sent Yuzu to stable the mule and cart. She herded Timothy into the inn. The busy common room filled him with relief. He had started to wonder if the entire world was sick. The healthy faces of hunters and farmers watched the pair with curiosity, not sickness or wariness.