Shepherd Hunted (8 page)

Kit inched to the right. She waved at Vyrin with one hand when he looked again. He returned to watching the nun.
Silly boy didn’t even notice my hands were free.

The nun looked at the people who had now fanned across the plaza to avoid the flames that reached across the cobblestones. Kit had to get away before the fire touched the patches of grass breaking the cobblestones. It wouldn’t take much time for the fire to hop across those patches.

“The days of sinful festivals are over.” Evelyn announced with a voice that carried. “Clean. Now we can all be clean. Go, clean this house of God.” She pointed.

Evelyn’s people swarmed the church grounds. They raced across the plaza and through the town of tombs. People around Kit started to flee. Adults swept up children and ran away from their torch-bearing neighbors. Kit darted away with them. The men guarding her tried to stop the flow of Evelyn’s people with pleas and fists, but numbers overwhelmed them. The human tide crashed up the stairs and through the open church doors.

Kit raced past a gnarled tree just as it ignited from a thrown torch. People’s screams mingled with the sounds of the conflagration’s gluttony. She coughed and ran away from the plaza. All around her, orange and red lapped at the windows. A man laughed as he smashed a window and threw in his torch. The heat made Kit’s tail hairs curl beneath her skirts. She leaped over a woman who crawled out of a doorway billowing smoke. The woman pleaded for help.

Kit ignored her and ran.

She couldn’t save everyone. There was only one person she could save. There was one person she
would
save even if she had to singe her tail doing it.

Timothy dipped the ink nib and finished copying the sentence. His handwriting was not as graceful as Aunt Mae’s, but it would have to do. He reached for his teacup. It was empty, and he frowned into it. His throat was as dry as the parchment that drank his ink. Sighing, he hefted the teapot, but even that was empty. He stood and stretched, back popping from long hours hunched over the desk. As much as he grumbled about his work, it had allowed them to buy the house on the edge of town. The house had a nice garden, and it was far enough away to be private but also not far enough from town to be a hassle. Kit liked the house, and he liked the house because she liked it. She kept talking about children. He felt his face flush at the thought. He wasn’t even sure if they could have children. One thing at a time. First, they had to be properly married.

She didn’t want a ring, of course. She had just about torn his head off at the idea.
Foxes don’t wear rings! Foxes are free, and rings are a human sign of possession.
Well, he figured a necklace should work. It would lie close to her heart. He laughed. She would bruise his shins at that thought. He paused as the flush left his face. It felt like he had had that heat on his cheeks for a long time. It felt odd to blink and not have his eyes burn his eyelids. No matter. Today was the day. He pulled the necklace from his pocket. The delicate silver chain caught the sunlight streaming into his study. A small tear-shaped moonstone set in simple filigree rotated in the light. He wore a heavier chain with an emerald against his chest. It seemed fitting to wear a stone the same color as Kit’s eyes. Well, not the same color. Her eyes were deeper than any emerald, but it was close.

He pocketed the moonstone and pushed away from the desk. Today was a good day. The smell of smoke was strong in his nostrils as he stepped outside their small home.

Kit sat on her favorite bench in the garden. White tufted ears flicked toward him. Her red hair danced over her shoulders, and her white-tipped tail gave her a measure of grace no human woman could match. She wore a green dress—pale compared to her eyes—that hugged her perfect small chest. Timothy was surprised his face didn’t heat again. Who said large chests were best? He dug into his pocket and pulled out the necklace.

“Timothy!” Kit suddenly yelled. She ran across the gardens, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him. Hard. “Timothy!”

His eyes snapped open. A young girl stood over him. Her odd oval eyes were tight. They reminded him of Kit’s eyes, but color was wrong. These eyes were brown, and dirt smeared the face. Kit didn’t like dirt on her face. He squinted against the harsh orange light and lifted a hand to shade his eyes. His hand froze midway. Blue veins stood out against skin stretched tight over tendon and bone. Faded purple blotches speckled his too white skin. Weakness weighed on him, as if he had worked shearing an endless line of sheep and pulled a cart of books up a hill that stretched into forever.

He reached through his memory holes. He remembered Kit with Trent. It felt like years ago. Evelyn. Her hazel gaze ghosted through his mental fingers. He knew he had seen his mother and spent time with her. More holes.

The dark-haired girl stared down with concern.
Who is she?
“Finally! I thought I was never going to wake you. You’re the shepherd, right?”

Timothy’s tongue was dust. He tried to work his voice but nothing would come. He nodded. He pulled himself to a sitting position, arms shaking with the effort. He looked up to find the girl holding a cup. He snatched it and gulped. Water scraped his throat.

“Thank you.” His voice rasped. “What is your name?”

The girl refilled the cup from a chipped blue pitcher. “Yuzu. I—Kit sent me to find you.”

Timothy scratched his cheek. A thick beard scratched back at his fingers. Just how long had he been sick?
A long time, apparently.

“Kit? Where is she?”

Yuzu glanced away. “She is in trouble.”

Timothy slid his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet looked much like his hands. Pale and weak. His stomach rubbed his backbone, but food would have to wait.

“Yuzu, would you mind finding my boots?”

“You don’t look strong enough to stand, let alone walk.” The girl pursed her lips. “Colt was in better shape than you.” She laid a hand against his forehead. “You don’t have a fever, at least.”

“I’m fine. Walking will help.”

Yuzu studied him. “As stubborn as Colt too. All right. Your boots are right over there. It’s a good thing I am used to helping children with their shoes.”

Timothy shook his head. The girl certainly knew Kit, judging by her tongue.

It took both of them to get his socks and boots pulled over his bony feet. Timothy struggled to lift each leg. Yuzu watched him with wariness and concern. He managed to gain his feet with Yuzu’s help. His knees shook, and he willed them not to buckle. There was too much to do for that, but it felt good to stand.

“Wrap your arm around my waist,” the girl said.

Timothy blinked.

Yuzu sighed and tucked his arm around her middle. “I can’t carry you, but I can still keep you steady if we are going to find her. This will make us even.”

“Even? How did you get roped into this?” He could feel some curves beneath the baggy blouse. Not a young girl, he decided. She was at least as old as he was.

She looked at the window, and her brow creased. “I smell smoke.” Together, they hobbled to the window. Yuzu gasped. Timothy agreed. Only one word described what he saw through the window.

Trouble.

Billowing black smoke engulfed the town. Orange and red flames licked higher than most of the buildings. The fire extended as far as he could see.
Did I die and go to hell after all?
He felt alive. He hurt and was hungry. But then, who knew what hell was like? Maybe hurting, being hungry, and that fire was what hell was supposed to be.

Yuzu’s arm around his shoulders whipped him away from the window. He managed to catch the wall before he fell onto his face. She half dragged him to the door. “Mira. Hoss. Colt. They will be…they cannot be—” She kicked the door open enough to drag him through. It was all he could do to keep his legs working. She dragged him down the hall. Smoke started billowing into the hall through open windows. A loud crackling and popping sound drew closer.

She bound down the stairs, but the pace proved too much for Timothy. His knees gave out, and he pulled Yuzu off balance. Together, they rolled and thumped down the hard oak stairs. Lights flared in Timothy’s vision, and a heavy weight pressed against his chest. He forced himself to breathe against the welling panic of suffocation. Yuzu lay on top of him. Her jaw-length hair stuck out in odd directions. She looked as dazed as Timothy felt.

“Are you hurt?” They both said at the same time.

Timothy could feel firm softness beneath the worn slops she wore. She wasn’t as muscled as Kit, but he was sure her kicks would hurt just the same. Would he have two pairs of feet to guard against?
Seriously? The entire town is on fire, Kit is missing, and I am thinking about getting kicked?
He wanted to laugh.

Yuzu pushed off him and offered an arm. Timothy could feel a little strength returning to his legs. Walking down the hall, or perhaps the tumble down the stairs, had helped his remaining muscles remember their use. He wobbled but stood. He nodded, and together they plunged outside the inn.

Heat and smoke slammed into them as soon as they stepped outside. Ash and sparks scattered in the air like sheep at new pasture. People rushed past. Some carried torches while others carried children. Timothy could hear cries for help from open windows and doors. Yuzu tightened her grip on his shoulders and weaved through the fleeing townspeople. She aimed for an alley the fire hadn’t found yet. He focused on keeping his feet moving. Ash kicked up with every step. They weaved through the back alleys, avoiding those the fires gnawed. He gave up trying to keep track of where she was taking him. Yuzu finally stopped, breathing hard against him. Timothy struggled to find air amid the smoke and ash.

The sound of fire eating the town around them drowned out the cries for help. It was a small, selfish comfort. He knew there was nothing he could do for any of them. Yuzu’s eyes were wide as she looked around the street. Here and there people dashed with arms loaded with bundles. One man carried a massive chair on his back.
What good would that do him?
Sweat and soot made Timothy’s beard itch.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Some children I was taking care of.” Yuzu pointed at a bonfire. “They lived over there.”

“I am sure they are fine.” The conflagration laughed at the lie.

“One was sick! Mira is just a little girl, and her brother…They—”

“I am sure they are fine. Children are tougher than people give them credit for.” He remembered Aunt Mae saying that a lot. “We need to worry about ourselves.”

Yuzu looked around as if she was seeing the danger for the first time. “Y…yeah.”

“If we can still get out,” said a voice from behind.

Timothy almost fell as Yuzu whipped him about. Just when he felt like he could stand unaided, his knees had to remind him of reality.

“That fuzz on your face will be gone as soon as we have a spare moment,” Kit said. A fanged grin split her lips. Her green gaze skewered him. “It might not be the only thing I’ll use a knife for considering all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

Yuzu’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs.

Timothy laughed. “Getting rid of the fuzz will be a favor.”

It was good to see Kit. Ash mussed her red hair, and stray hairs clung to her forehead. Soot stained one of her cheeks, and exhaustion pulled at her eyes. Her hood was singed in a few places.

She was beautiful.

“You don’t think me serious? Foolish shepherd. You don’t know how much I’ve worked.”

Timothy’s mirth died as he remembered. That was one memory that didn’t have holes. “Kit. About…about your home. I should have told you. I should have told you as soon as I knew. You probably would have been better off with Trent. At least he—”

“You idiot!” Kit stalked to Timothy. Yuzu pulled away from him. He stood alone on wobbling legs. Kit’s gaze burned hotter than the fire around them. “Do you really think I would after how he grabbed—you do, don’t you?”

She snatched his shirt in her fists. He was too weak to resist. Not that he would. He deserved what fate dealt. Keeping the destruction of her home a secret was wrong.

“I thought maybe a little jealousy would teach you something. I misjudged how much wool is stuffed into that scholar brain of yours! Me and Trent? You followed along like a puppy. I wanted a mastiff! I almost thought you were going to pummel that peacock like he deserved. You looked ready to, yet you backed down. Why?”

Timothy had wanted to smear that man all over the paving stones. “That would have been wrong.”

Kit’s hands tensed. She quivered.

Finally, she relaxed and shook her head. She reached up and grabbed his chin fur. Her fingers wagged his head in time with her own. “Timmy, Timmy. Just what am I going to do with you?”

“A shave would be nice.” Timothy’s stomach muttered at him. “And food would be better.”

Kit stepped back and looked him up and down. She chewed her lower lip. “You are too bony for my taste. I am not a dog who will play fetch.” She hesitated. “You know, I wish you would get mad at me and yell every once in a while. I did what I did with Trent, knowing it would hurt you, but here you stand, just accepting it. Accepting me.” She looked up through her red bangs. “I don’t understand you.”

He shrugged. “I don’t understand me either. I am only happy you are well. Besides, what I did to you was worse.”

Kit frowned. “You think that silly note was worse than what I knowingly did to you? I saw you hiding in that stall, and I hung on Trent just to get back at you!”

“Uh,” Yuzu said. Timothy had forgotten about her. “Are you two going to keep arguing or are we going to get out of here? The fire?”

Wind fanned the flames toward them. Some of the buildings leaned dangerously toward the street.

“Good idea, I’d rather not have my tail singed.”

“Tail?” Yuzu asked.

Kit wrapped an arm around Timothy’s waist, and he put an arm around her shoulders.
Kit really needs to be more careful with what she says.

“No grabbing. Your bony hands will cut me,” Kit said. She dragged him down the street much faster than Yuzu had. He could feel firm muscles working in her shoulders. He carefully kept his hand away from her chest. Yuzu matched their pace.

“You don’t have anything for me to grab onto if we fall anyway,” he said.

Kit growled something unintelligible. Yuzu glanced at him with a mix of disgust and shock.
What? It was a good joke.

They stumbled down the street. The streams of people began to thin as the fire continued to chew at the town.

“They have to be all right.” Yuzu watched the flames. “They will escape.” Doubt stole upon her voice.

Timothy struggled to keep up with their pace, but the molten air lent incentive for his weak legs to work. The town groaned its last breaths now. Buildings gave up, crumbling as they passed. He tried not to think about how many people couldn’t get out of those buildings. Sick, abandoned, alone. He had almost been one of them. He shivered despite the heat. Only a few people scurried down the streets now. One man held fistfuls of jewelry. Kit furrowed her nose at the man, and her lips pulled back to show fangs. Timothy agreed.

“Almost there!” Yuzu shouted from ahead. Timothy could see the opened gate. Fires burned along the stone walls.

Crack.

The tallest building on the street toppled as if a giant had taken an axe to its foundations. Clay tiles chimed and shattered in a stream against the street. A storm of dust, soot, and sparks showered around them. The building crashed into the street, blowing them with gray dust. Yuzu froze a few feet from the ruins, eyes huge. If she had been moving any faster the entire building would have fallen on top of her. Timothy leaned on Kit and breathed hard. His stomach was a hollow.