She pauses. For a moment, I think she’s gonna talk to me.
“Foxfire,” Tank’s voice rings out over the market.
The blood drains from the woman’s face. “Wolf,” she mouths.
“No, please,” I call as I watch my only link to my father ride out of town as if escaping a fire.
“Who was that?” Tank rumbles behind me. I whirl, and he must read the desperation on my face. “Was that her?” I nod and he grabs my hand. “Come on.” I let him pull me along to the hotel parking lot. “She’s on a bike,” he tells me as we climb into Daisy. “If she comes this way often, I can track her.”
We pull into traffic just in time for me to see Sunny crossing the street toward us, two paper cups in her hand.
~.~
“There’s only one road she could’ve taken,” Tank says after I point out the way the fox shifter went. We left Sunny at the market, telling her we’d be back soon.
We ride in tense silence, quickly leaving all buildings behind for an open desert. When we get out of town, Tank pulls over. “I’m going on all fours now. Follow me in the car. If anyone sees me and asks questions, you tell them I’m a wolfhound crossed with a European mountain dog, and whistle for me. I’ll come when you call.”
The thought of Tank acting domesticated doesn’t even make me smile.
Tank ducks in the back to strip off his clothes. Within a minute, a huge wolf leaps out, and trots along the highway.
I grip the steering wheel and inch behind him.
The fox shifter looked so frightened. Is she really one of my people? What does she know about my father? Are all fox shifters that skittish?
A few cars pass but no one stops. Tank leads me onto a small turnoff and disappears for a moment behind the rocks. Then he sticks his head out and barks. I turn off the car, grab his stuff, and lock it.
Tank strides out in human form and pulls on his clothes. “Trail goes this way. You want to do this? We can head back to town and wait for my contact to see what she dug up on your dad.”
“No,” I say, remembering the woman’s face in the market when I mentioned Johnny’s name. She knew him. She was just frightened. “This is the hottest lead we have. Let’s go.”
We hike along. The reddish orange rocks would make the perfect camouflage for a fox.
“As soon as she scented you were a wolf, she ran,” I comment. “Do you think she’s a loner?”
“I’ve heard that weaker shifters stick together. They’re secretive, and there’s strength in numbers. I don’t know any foxes, though. Either because there aren’t many, or because they don’t make their presence widely known.”
“Or because we don’t want a stinking wolf trespassing on our land.” A voice rings out, and I start, looking for the voice. A giant pile of red rocks blocks our way, but there’s no sign of anyone. I step forward, and Tank puts his hand out to stop me.
“Take your hands off her, wolf,” someone snarls. About fifteen men appear from behind the rocks. Some of them rise from the brush behind us. They all have shotguns, and they’re all pointed at Tank.
We’re surrounded.
“Stay where you are, wolf.”
Tank throws up his hands.
“No, don’t shoot.” I raise my hands also. “We mean no harm.” To Tank, I whisper, “Did you smell them?”
“No.”
“This whole place smells like fox, boy.” The oldest-looking fox, a sandy-haired man with a seamy face says, hands on his slender hips.
More men surround us. They’re sunburnt, short and muscular. They all look familiar. Several are identical from the reddish hair to the dirty overalls.
“We’re not armed,” Tank says.
“A wolf is a weapon. He doesn’t need one.”
“Look, he won’t hurt you,” I blurt. “He’s just helping me find my kin.”
The man narrows his eyes at me. “Who are you?”
“I’m Johnny’s daughter.”
“Johnny?” He stares at me, as if trying to figure out how I’d look without rainbow-colored hair.
“Probably lying, Pa,” one of the younger foxes says. He’s a spitting image of the older leader. Tank stirs at my side. If anyone threatens me, he might snap. They’ll hurt him.
“Jordy,” the leader barks, and another fox appears, a woman. She keeps her head bowed and shoulders hunched, but she’s the one I saw in the marketplace. “This her?”
Jordy nods.
One of the men steps closer to me and sniffs. “She smells like wolf.” He spits on the ground.
Tank shifts beside me, and the shotguns snaps to readiness.
“No, no, this isn’t what we want,” I say. “I’m here because I’m looking for my father. I’ve never met him, but he kept in touch with my mother. She’s human. But I’m a fox. See?” I raise my hand and will it to change. Maybe because I’m desperate, or maybe because my fox knows she’s around her own kind, my hand turns to a paw with reddish fur.
A murmur ripples around the group.
“You’d better come with us,” the leader says. “It’s not safe to talk out in the open like this.”
“What? Why?” I ask, but the foxes are already melting away. Pa nods at Jordy, and she comes to stand beside me. “Because”-her voice is practically a whisper-“the drones. They might be watching.”
~.~
The foxes march us to the hills, and lead us into one of the caves honeycombed into the reddish brown rock. They pause to argue whether to blindfold Tank before one points out that with his sense of smell, he could find them anyway.
“I mean you no harm,” Tank says. “I’m here to help Foxfire.”
“I’ll be dead before I believe the word of a wolf,” one of the younger men says, and spits.
“Now, Jason,” Pa cautions.