A TAIL OF NINE

CHAPTER FIVE: Pitchforks and a Time for the Dead

When I wake up, Kon's next to me. She isn't asleep. I wish Kon could do the thing of seeing through a hawk's eyes again, but they aren't gonna come out of hiding anytime soon.

Kon checks and double-checks that the canopic jar is safe.

We have breakfast--donuts and milk. Kon eats hers while she's still a fox. After licking the last crumbs from her face, she puts her muzzle in her cup and laps up some of the milk. Still sitting on the table, she scoops the cup up in her paws in a maneuver that must have taken years for her to master.

"Are we gonna check?"

Her whiskers bob up and down.

Honestly, I've been wanting to check for paw prints since we first got up. She's putting it off. Is it because she knows we're gonna find some?

She leaps down off the table and pads down the hall. When she's at the foot of the stairs, she glances back to make sure that I'm following. I must not be going fast enough because she makes a little chuff noise in the back of her throat.

She waits for me to open the door to the outside. After I do, she circles my legs and slinks out. Her tail flicks back and forth several times. At first, I don't see anything.

Getting down on my hands and knees, I give it a closer look. It looks like a bunch of prints in the flour that look like three-pronged pitchforks.

The crows have been here.

How long do we have before the wolves show up?

Shoving all the questions we have aside, Kon and I clean and then leave. She doesn't even take the time to knead the pillow with her paws like she usually does.

Even after all this time, it's hard to know what Kon looks for in a house. Foxes that live in the wild have to make do with whatever they find. If you find an old groundhog burrow, don't be so sure that a groundhog is the one living there. You see, a groundhog pats the dirt down because they like their beds hard. A fox, though, even the ones in the wild like it soft, so they kick the dirt up inside and around it. When you see a groundhog hole and loose soil's been kicked up out of it, that means a groundhog's moved out (or has been dinner) and a fox's moved in.

When none of the beach houses suit Kon, we push deeper into the town, leaving the ocean behind us. Kon gets us into a little motel room. I told you that no place can keep a fox out. This place looks like it hasn't seen a maid in about a century. But, it has a bed and a couch. Kon locks the door and checks the lock two more times, just to make sure it's latched. I give the windows a once-over without her saying anything to me. The latches work and they're easy to pop open if we need a quick exit.

"You'd think the Amarok would have something better to do than mess with us." I sink down onto the bed.

<<You sleep. Then I sleep.>>

"How long until they find us?" I ask, glancing toward the door.

<<I don't know, Kit.>>

"I still say they're assholes."

That gets three flicks of her ear.

"Jerks," I correct myself. If she's taking the time to fuss at me over the word assholes, then maybe we're not as bad off as I think we are.

After pulling out her kitsunebi, she lets some of its magic flow into me, so I'll have it in case I need it. Then she does that ritual with the canopic jar again.

We didn't have a chance to grab any food and motels don't have stocked fridges.

When my stomach grumbles she thinks to me, <<Sleep. We will get something later.>>