The Cats of Tanglewood Forest by Charles De Lint Page B

a-ways,” she said, pointing.
    Then she waved a hand and set off at a jaunty pace that wasn’t anything like she felt.
    “You be dang careful!” the hunter called after her.
    She waved again but didn’t look back.

    Lillian expected the hunter to come down from his perch to follow after her, which would make him yet one more person who felt he should get to decide what she was supposed to do with her life. But she didn’t hear any ruckus. When she finally did hear something behind her a few minutes later, a quick glance showed her the plume of a fox’s tail disappearing behind a bush.
    “Fine,” she said. “Go ahead and skulk along behind me. See if I care.”
    She looked up in the tree she was passing under, half expecting someone to be sitting up there. Another hunter. Maybe some fairy-tale creature.
Somebody
with something to say that she didn’t particularly want to hear.
    But the branches were empty, which made perfect sense. Hunters were busy with their own lives, and her life wasn’t a fairy tale. It was a sad mess and there wasn’t anything magical about it. There wasn’t anything magical anywhere at all.
    Yes, Aunt Nancy was fairly spooky, but really.
Bear
people?
    She stopped and sat down on the long trunk ofa fallen tree, ready to retrace her steps. Except that wouldn’t help, either. The Welches and school were waiting for her back there.
    And going ahead would—what?
    Well, it might get her eaten by a bear. Or a panther…
    She sighed and looked back the way she’d come.
    “What do you think, Mr. Fox?” she called to the empty woods. “Do you have any advice for me?”
    Of course there was no reply.

    Lillian went on despite her reservations. The game trail she followed through the sprucy-pine wound itsway in between tree trunks and stone outcrops softened with moss. She walked along the back of the ridge for miles, weariness starting to set in just when the ground started to rise again.
    Hunger pangs reminded her that she’d skipped breakfast, and she was grateful that there was food in her pack. She stopped by a jumble of rock to have some cheese and fry bread, washing it down with water. When she was rested enough to continue, she stood up and left a small portion of cheese on the stone where she’d been sitting.
    “That’s for you, Mr. Fox,” she said.
    She hadn’t seen him for a while so she wasn’t even sure he was still on her trail.
    Curiosity got the better of her, and thirty feet or so from where she’d left the cheese she ducked behind a big mossy stone, then slowly rose until she could peer over the top. She stayed as still as ever she had and, sure enough, a few minutes later the fox stepped into sight on dainty feet, his plume of a tail lifting behind him. He sniffed at the food, then snapped it up in one bite. His head came up and he looked around until his gaze found hers. She ducked down. When she looked back a moment later, he was gone.

    The trail wound up the mountain until it finally opened into a small meadow. The afternoon was slipping away and she remembered Davy’s advice about finding a place to spend the night.
    She crossed the meadow and the trail began its descent once more. The incline was steep and she had to hold on to saplings as she went down. As twilight finally crept over the forest she came to a small creek. A tall pine had recently fallen, forminga bridge across the water. She drank from the creek and filled her canteen, then crossed over. She walked the length of the pine until it grew too narrow.
    Follow the creek, John had told her. Well, she’d do that tomorrow.
    Hopping down, she made herself a nest under the pine boughs. She rolled out her blanket and lay down. She thought about the fox and the hunter and the bears she might or might not meet tomorrow. Finally the long day caught up with her, and she fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mother
Manan
    W hen Lillian woke it was morning. She looked up through the pine boughs and smiled to hear