Vixen Hunted by Christopher Kincaid Page B

mug. "One is a young lad named Timothy. The
other is a red-haired girl."
    Philip rubbed at the
stain. No chance a man like this one befriended those two.
    "I had a full
house last night. Saw several young lads here. I make it a point not to know
where my patrons go in the morning. It is none of my concern as long as they
return sometime." Philip spoke the truth. He had a feeling this man would
know a lie. Philip knew the man's type.
    Some men hunted
animals. Other men hunted people.
    The man finished his
ale. "That is answer enough." He waved at the coins. "A tip for
being helpful, innkeep. May God look over you."
    The strange man thumped
out, leaving a trail of mud. Philip frowned. A man like that was usually hard
to handle, and trouble besides. Philip gripped the bar with a burly hand.
    He shrugged and
relaxed. "I am too old to toss people out on their ears anyway." He
reached to scoop the coins.
    A single red hair clung
to the bar.

Chapter 6
    "My tail is
soaked," Kit said again.
    The summer heat had
broken three days before, in a deluge to rival the stories of Noah. People
stuffed the road shelters. Timothy ignored the curious looks from the doors of
the shelters. Only fools plodded through this mud. Timothy would rather be
stuck in the rain and taking shelter under pines for a month than dealing with
what awaited them ahead.
    "I think I see
it!" Kit's ears strained against her sodden head scarf. A familiar shape
emerged from the mist. Cat shook rain off her wool, splashing Timothy. Not that
his clothes could hold any more water.
    Kit and the lamb raced
for the shelter of the eaves while Timothy kept his measured pace. Soaked was
soaked. Running would not make him any less so now. He looked forward to seeing
Aunt Mae again.
    But he dreaded seeing
his mother.
    A brass bell clung to
the rough stone doorframe. Timothy took a long breath and reached for the rope
that hung from the bell. He hesitated.
    "Just ring the
bell, shepherd, or I will use your head as a door knocker." Kit hugged
herself.
    The bell's sound split
the unrelenting rain.
    A few moments passed
before the door creaked open. A young nun poked her head out. "Oh, you are
completely soaked! What are you doing out in this? Come in. Come in. We have a
fire and warm clothes for you." The nun stared at the lamb for a moment
before opening the door.
    Time did not touch the
abbey. A few new plants stood in the windows, but otherwise it was the same
simple hall Timothy knew. Whitewashed walls gleamed and the floor looked
freshly swept. The deluge outside droned on the tile roof. Timothy remembered
the silence. That was the best part, next to the books. The knot between his
shoulders loosened.
    He was home.
    The nun led the trio
down to the guest hall. Timothy saw no one else. He guessed it was about time
for Vespers, anyway.
    "My name is Sister
Tera." The young nun glided in front of them, almost achieving the dignity
of the older nuns. "What brings you out in such dreadful weather? No, no.
It is okay. You do not have to tell me. You are welcome here. Your rooms are
this way. I will bring you dinner after you are settled."
    Sister Tera led them to
the guest wing. A few torches lit the hall. Timothy remembered the entire abbey
being merrily lit whenever the weather was poor.
    "'A lit home makes
for a light heart,'" Timothy said. Aunt Mae loved that saying.
    "What was that?
Oh, here we are. Here is your room, miss." The nun opened a door.
"You can find dry towels and clothes in the wardrobe. We have not had any
guests for a while. So please feel welcome and rest."
    "As long as there
are no bed lice." Kit muttered. Timothy nudged her upper arm. "I
mean, thank you!"
    Kit closed the door
behind her. Cat thumped her nose into the door and huffed. He stared at the closed
door, wondering what would happen when Aunt Mae met Kit. Kit had better not
cause trouble. Aunt Mae did not tolerate much.
    "Your room is this
way, sir." Sister Tera glided toward the men's hall. Cat clopped