THE SUN was barely up when Spencer hauled Connor up behind the old stock saddle. He would have preferred to go bareback like last time, but there were things to carry that needed to be tied to the D rings. Logically, it made it a whole lot easier, but it also made it less comfortable for Connor.
And puts a gap between us, Spencer realized.
“Be careful how you go,” Nan said and handed Connor Spencer’s backpack. “I put in some meat scraps and eggs for your foxes. There’s some offal for the mother. Now don’t try to do too much or better still, let Spencer do what needs to be done.”
“Thanks, Nan,” Spencer said with only a touch of sarcasm. He turned Rocky to the track and started toward the forest. It was only a twenty-minute ride—thirty tops, but it had taken on epic proportions in Spencer’s mind. His world had changed overnight. Nothing would ever be the same again—he would never be the same! Fox shifters and faeries—well maybe not faeries—existed. The person behind him wasn’t just a person. Connor’s body heat radiated against his back even though they barely touched. Is that a shifter… furborn thing? What else is different? A small smile touched Spencer’s lips. Everything looked the same.
Rocky stumbled lazily over a tree root and Spencer collected the reins with a grumble to pay attention.
“You okay back there?” he asked.
Connor shifted slightly with a noncommittal, “Yes.”
It was the answer, or at least the way it was given, Spencer would have expected when they first met. All the warmth and openness of their night on the veranda was gone. Spencer almost asked what was wrong, but past experience told him that only made things worse. Leave him alone, and he will talk when he’s ready. His nan’s advice made sense, but he itched to ask his questions. Connor had told him so…. He could have kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. His world was changed and so was Connor’s. He’d told a long-held family secret and now he had to admit it. Shit!
“You want me to stay away while you go in?” he asked.
There was a painful pause before Connor replied, “I don’t know if it matters.”
“I just thought it might be easier if I did.”
“It’s not going to matter who’s there, but they—May, needs to know you.”
Know me?
Gum leaves from a low-hanging branch slapped his face and, despite everything, he heard Connor chuckle. The track turned, and the clearing came into view. No matter how many times Spencer saw it, it still looked like something out of a storybook. Not quite a fairy tale, but definitely not a cabin in the woods either.
Rocky’s ears flicked searching for sounds that Spencer couldn’t hear. He trod warily onto the open grass only to stop dead. He snorted and backed up.
Spencer tightened the reins and squeezed his thighs, but Rocky wouldn’t budge.
“Come on, Rocky, it’s okay,” Spencer tried and gave him a tap with his heels.
“Mab,” Connor whispered. and Spencer looked up to see the vixen sitting near the doorway. Spencer held his breath. This is Connor’s sister! A wave of nausea mixed with that dash of dizziness crashed over him.
His world tilted a little more.
“Stay here a minute,” Connor said and slid down Rocky’s flank. The normally stoic horse danced sideways, and Connor hit the ground harder than intended. He didn’t make a sound, but Spencer saw the color drain from his already pale face.
Mab had trotted closer. She raised her snout and yipped. Mab was thin, and her coat lacked the red luster Spencer had witnessed on her brother. He would never say it to Connor, but the little fox in the clearing looked too much like the fox that hung on the branches of the tree.
“Hang on,” Spencer said and swung his leg inelegantly over Rocky’s wither to stand safely beside Connor. He unstrapped the crutch and Connor tucked it under his arm with a nod of thanks.
His hop and hobble across the grass was surprisingly fast, and Mab made up the extra distance. It looked like the reunion of a boy and his dog—Mab wriggled while Connor stroked her rough fur and spoke quiet words. That’s what it looked like, but that wasn’t what it was. Another tilt and another flip of Spencer’s gut. If his worldview kept shifting, he was sure he’d fall off.
“Spence, come here,” Connor called.
He took a few paces on trembling legs, sure that his knees would buckle, and he’d sprawl face-first in front of Connor’s family.
Tilt.
You hated the world as it was, and you got a whole new one now. Spencer sucked in a lungful of air and, although it did nothing for his spinning thoughts, it braced his body to walk the short distance.
Honey-brown eyes watched his approach. She didn’t growl or attempt to flee back to her babies. She simply watched him. Spencer ran possible greetings through his head, none of which seemed appropriate for a fox. Connor’s nervous smile reassured him a little, and he blurted out, “Hi, um hello. I met you before, but I didn’t know.” He stopped. Had Connor told her already?
Mab stepped forward and looked up.
“She remembers you,” Connor said.
Spencer nodded and squatted down. His hand stretched to pat her like before, but he withdrew it and asked, “Can I touch her?”
“Ask her, not me.”
Okay, here we go, asking a fox for permission.
“Is it all right if I touch you?”
The grin was obvious even to Spencer. He slowly stretched out his hand trusting she wouldn’t nip off his fingertips and was rewarded with her head pushed into his palm. He stroked back in between her ears and down her neck, she gave a quiet chuff and leaned into him.
“She says you have a good touch,” Connor told him.
“She is….” He turned back to Mab. “You are very beautiful.” Spencer could never say that to a person no matter how much he believed it, but this was different.
Connor laughed. “Don’t tell her that, she’s vain enough already.”
Mab snorted at her brother and emitted several mumbled barks.
“When she can take skin, she wants to talk to you,” Connor interpreted.
“I look forward to it,” Spencer said quite formally. “In the meantime, my nan packed some meat for you, and we have some bedding blankets strapped to the saddle.”
“She knows. Even I can smell their meal.” Connor’s smile faded. “I guess it’s time to face May.”
Spencer looked toward the cottage and spied what might be a hint of red back from the doorway. “Do you want me to stay here?” Spencer asked, half hoping the answer was yes. He’d asked it several times, but his gut churned at the thought of meeting Old May.
Mab left them and trotted back into the cottage.
“Come on,” Connor muttered.
Spencer unstrapped the blankets and slung them over his shoulder. It took longer than needed, but his heart beat too fast, and his fingers fumbled with the straps. It did, however, allow him a few extra seconds to catch his breath and ready himself to meet the Coutts matriarch. Even so, walking through the doorway took all his courage because he wasn’t going in to check on a litter of foxes, he was meeting Connor’s family.
Little had changed since his last visit, except he wasn’t afraid then. The smell was the same—a mix of dog, cat, and mustiness. He supposed it couldn’t smell like anything else when it housed foxes, but he wondered if they could smell it when they were in skin. It probably didn’t matter.
Old May sat in front of the kits. She glowered at him. Mab chuffed and chattered, but the matriarch was unmoved.
“Move slowly,” Connor said. “Sit on the floor and let her approach you.”
Spencer did as he was told. He instantly dropped his gaze and waited. Connor lowered himself awkwardly next to his sister. It was May’s decision now. She approached him with her head low and worn teeth in evidence. Don’t move. It became his mantra. Spencer’s muscles twitched and refused to relax. Fox breath whispered over his hands. His fingers curled involuntarily. He forced them open again, and May bared her teeth above his vulnerable palm. But the air in the cottage lightened, the walls halted their threats to crush him into a claustrophobic mess. Spencer could breathe. A eucalyptus-scented breeze flowed through the open door and brought with it a fox’s grin. Old May sat and looked into his eyes. Her teeth were no longer a threat, but her gaze held meaning.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Spencer said in a hushed tone.
“Trust is not there yet, but she sees you as my friend.”
“She knows that I know?”
“She knows.” Connor lifted one of his sister’s kits and blew softly. It wriggled in excitement. Tiny paws paddled the air until he held her to his skin. “This is why she watches you. For Mab, for me, and for her great-grandbabies.”
Spencer almost said he understood, but how could he? He could imagine how he’d feel if Emily was threatened, but that wasn’t likely and that wasn’t the existence of his entire family. He looked from Connor to Mab and back to May. “I will keep your secret always.” It was a solemn oath said with all the heart he could muster. He meant it and wanted all the Coutts to know it.
May stared for a few seconds longer then turned away.
Spencer didn’t move. “Is that it?” he muttered.
“For now.”
May sniffed around the top of the backpack and tapped at the zipper. Spencer was sure she’d find a way into it if Connor hadn’t been there to open it for her. He lifted the bag and emptied the contents onto the stone hearth. Chicken wings tumbled out to form a pale fleshy tower while a white feather floated down like a gory garnish. Connor pulled out a small plastic bag with blood pooled in its corners. Spencer grimaced but knew that despite its nightmarish appearance the offal was a rare treat. May sat back until Mab consumed her fill of chicken livers and sheep kidneys. She ate the last few and settled to crunch on the raw bones.
Connor swapped the blankets and put the kits next to her sister where they tumbled together in an awkward play fight. Spencer desperately wanted to lie down with the kits like he did with Bridie—smell their puppy breath and listen to their baby squeaks and growls, but he kept his distance. It was one thing to have permission to pet Mab, but something totally different to touch her babies.
“Time to go,” Connor said abruptly. He gathered the bags and repacked them.
“Um, yeah, okay.” Spencer took the pack from him surprised that he was ready to leave so quickly. There were no clues on his face—his mouth was set in a straight line and his eyes fixed on the handgrip of his crutch.
Mab snuggled in the nest of blankets with the chicken wing trapped between her paws. She looked at her brother and yipped a few short barks. Her kits paused in their unbalanced tumbles and looked at Connor with newly opened eyes. May raised herself from the hearth and walked slowly to the door. Spencer smiled at Mab and her kits.
“I hope you know that my intentions are all good,” he whispered. The tiny sisters had given up on play and were busy cuddling into their mother, but Mab met his gaze. She understands.
May waited on the doorstep where Spencer would have to pass. She ignored him for the most part but gave a few soft chuffs.
“I’m sorry that I don’t know what you said, but Connor is safe with us. I promise.”
“She knows,” Connor called from halfway across the clearing. Spencer jogged the distance between them.
“We could have stayed longer if you wanted.”
“What’s the point?” he muttered and stepped up the pace.
Rocky’s mouth was stuffed with seeded grass when Spencer tugged the reins free from the loop on his neck. “I’ll give you extra hay when we get back,” he said as an apology for interrupting Rocky’s feast.
“He doesn’t understand you,” Connor grumbled.
Spencer looked at him, but he refused to look back. “He knows I was talking to him and my words are kind even if he doesn’t know what they mean.” It was said a little sharper than Spencer intended, but Connor was just being mean.
The pair rode the whole way home in silence and the only utterance he heard from Connor was a grunt when he slid off the horse’s back. Spencer patted Rocky’s neck and led him to a rail where he removed the saddle and swapped the bridle for a headstall.
“The Coutts are a strange family, Spence, there’s no arguing that.” Pa Mac handed him a tack bag from the post.
“Yeah,” Spencer sighed. He hadn’t seen his grandfather approach, but it didn’t surprise him. Pa didn’t miss much of what happened on his farm.
“Something wrong at the shack or is our guest just being his moody self?”
Spencer glanced toward the house but Connor was already inside. “Everything seemed okay and the foxes enjoyed the scraps Nan gave us.”
Pa chuckled. “Scraps? Well no lamb’s fry for me today.” Despite his teasing, Pa leaned heavily on his cane. It was easy to forget what a struggle it was for him to walk, and Spencer barely heard the slur in his voice that was so obvious when they arrived.
Pa patted Rocky’s muscular neck. “He’s a good horse. Solid.”
“It’ll be a while before Smokey is as surefooted,” Spencer said and slung the grooming bag over his shoulder.
“Here, give me the body brush.”
Spencer handed over the soft bristled brush and took out the pick. The midmorning sun shone hot on his back while he picked out packed dirt and leaf litter producing dark earthy smells mingled with that hint of fresh manure. It was a good smell, a country smell.
With four hoofs cleaned he leaned against Rocky’s barrel of a belly. Horse heat soaked through his T-shirt, and he closed his eyes. Horses had always been his refuge—well that and the music that blasted through his headphones. After a shitty day at school he’d walk home via the agistment. Some days he’d ride, but some days throw an arm over Smokey’s back and simply lean against him. The big gray would heave a sigh and so would Spencer.
“No time to sleep.”
Spencer opened his eyes just in time to catch the brush Pa Mac threw at him. “Give them their breakfast and come inside for something yourself.”
He knew he’d missed breakfast, but there was always food in the kitchen.