Shepherd Hunted by Christopher Kincaid

Author:Christopher Kincaid [Kincaid, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy
Published: 2015-11-19T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Timothy dipped the ink nib and finished copying the sentence. His handwriting was not as graceful as Aunt Mae’s, but it would have to do. He reached for his teacup. It was empty, and he frowned into it. His throat was as dry as the parchment that drank his ink. Sighing, he hefted the teapot, but even that was empty. He stood and stretched, back popping from long hours hunched over the desk. As much as he grumbled about his work, it had allowed them to buy the house on the edge of town. The house had a nice garden, and it was far enough away to be private but also not far enough from town to be a hassle. Kit liked the house, and he liked the house because she liked it. She kept talking about children. He felt his face flush at the thought. He wasn’t even sure if they could have children. One thing at a time. First, they had to be properly married.

She didn’t want a ring, of course. She had just about torn his head off at the idea. Foxes don’t wear rings! Foxes are free, and rings are a human sign of possession. Well, he figured a necklace should work. It would lie close to her heart. He laughed. She would bruise his shins at that thought. He paused as the flush left his face. It felt like he had had that heat on his cheeks for a long time. It felt odd to blink and not have his eyes burn his eyelids. No matter. Today was the day. He pulled the necklace from his pocket. The delicate silver chain caught the sunlight streaming into his study. A small tear-shaped moonstone set in simple filigree rotated in the light. He wore a heavier chain with an emerald against his chest. It seemed fitting to wear a stone the same color as Kit’s eyes. Well, not the same color. Her eyes were deeper than any emerald, but it was close.

He pocketed the moonstone and pushed away from the desk. Today was a good day. The smell of smoke was strong in his nostrils as he stepped outside their small home.

Kit sat on her favorite bench in the garden. White tufted ears flicked toward him. Her red hair danced over her shoulders, and her white-tipped tail gave her a measure of grace no human woman could match. She wore a green dress—pale compared to her eyes—that hugged her perfect small chest. Timothy was surprised his face didn’t heat again. Who said large chests were best? He dug into his pocket and pulled out the necklace.

“Timothy!” Kit suddenly yelled. She ran across the gardens, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him. Hard. “Timothy!”

His eyes snapped open. A young girl stood over him. Her odd oval eyes were tight. They reminded him of Kit’s eyes, but color was wrong. These eyes were brown, and dirt smeared the face. Kit didn’t like dirt on her face. He squinted against the harsh orange light and lifted a hand to shade his eyes.

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