Page 46 of Feathered Thief

“A boon is a favor. I cannot disclose the nature of this boon yet, but I swear by my tail it is honorable.”

Foxes were known to be vain as well as sly, so maybe he valued his tail more than his honor. “I accept your offer,” she said, “and I shall grant you a ‘boon’ if it is not something harmful. And if my travel companion approves.”

“Then climb upon my tail, and I’ll carry you to the next town. From there, we’ll begin your quest.” He turned to offer his tail as a seat.

“Your tail?” She stared at the fluffy appendage, ready to point out the impossibility . . . “But my companion?—”

“I’ll bring you to the old man,” the fox growled.

She tentatively slung one foot over his tail and sat down . . .

Scenery flashed past, yet she felt no wind in her face.This can’t possibly be happening . . .When the fox stopped, she stood upright, light-headed, whether from hunger, cold, or enchantment, she neither knew nor cared. Her pack, bow, and quiver had arrived intact.

The fox turned to groom its tail as if she had mussed it up, then sat upright and narrowed its gleaming eyes at her. “Now, because you wisely chose not to shoot me, I offer sound counsel that I can only hope you will heed.”

He paused, so she nodded, and he continued: “If you follow this road up the mountain, you will arrive at a village with two taverns. One of these will be brightly lit, filled with dancing and singing. You must avoid that inn and enter the other, which appears plain and uninviting. In the morning, your true quest shall begin.”

Before Lenka could respond, the fox vanished into the underbrush lining the road. “But . . . what about Papa?”

She stood blinking at the place where the white tip of the fox’s tail had vanished . . . until an icy wind got her moving. Shemust have been crazy, taking directions from a talking fox, but then, she hadn’t felt cold while riding on his fluffy tail.

Obviously, he was no ordinary fox.

So, whatwashe?

“Lenka?”

At the sound of Papa’s gruff voice, she turned, burst into tears, and rushed into his arms. “Oh, I feared I’d lost you!”

“How did you—? Why did you follow me when I asked you to wait?”

Still clinging to him, she confessed about the fox.

“You trusted a talking fox?” He sounded incredulous.

“He was polite and well-spoken.”

He huffed a laugh. “I’m sure he was.”

“But he brought me here, Papa.”

“Yes, he did. Perhaps the beast was the one exception to a rule . . . Come along now, I’ve found us an inn.”

Just as twilight darkened into nightfall, they entered the village. Lenka had no trouble identifying the popular inn the fox had mentioned—mouth-watering smells and toe-tapping music poured from its bright windows along with laughter and snatches of happy conversation. It looked exciting and welcoming.

“Not that one, lass. We would never catch a wink of sleep.” Papa indicated a smaller building across the way, with dimly lit windows and a small sign, Crossroads Inn, to indicate its business. The fox was right, and so was Papa. She needed sleep, not music and company.

Papa’s knock brought a woman to the door. “Good evening,” she said. “How may I help you?”

“Good evening,” Lenka said, trying to sound and behave like a man. “I require two rooms for the night, one for me and one for my manservant. Have you any available?”

“Yes. Do you need to stable horses?” She was a handsome older woman with a cultured voice, but no trace of a smile softened her expression.

“I do not.”

“I require payment in advance.”

“I can pay.”

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