No.
I called desperately to Sprig. “Sab! Bring them round to me!”
It was all we had—to drive the hounds and the cub towards me in the impossible hope that I could get to it first. Too many times, we’d failed, but the fire in me today was irrepressible. That cub wouldn’t die unless I did first.
Sprig made his move, herding the wayward cub and the hounds in an arc towards the copse. I ran along the treeline, my heart in my mouth, knowing that the cub stood no chance if it dug in under a tree and the terrier men caught up with it. My only option now was to subdue and remove it, and one way or another, I was going to get hurt.
The cub ran into my path. Foaming at the mouth, it was exhausted, despite its short stint in the field, and unbidden my mind pictured what might’ve happened to it before the quad bike gang had released it. What I saw poured fuel on my determination, and I lunged for the cub, catching it by the scruff of the neck.
It was small for its age, and male, which worked in my favour. Vixens tended to have more fight in them when it came to people. This little boy didn’t even struggle as I whipped him from the ground and tucked him into my coat.
The hounds were on me; only Sprig was between us with the last few pieces of chicken. He tossed them out wide enough to spread the dogs, buying me valuable time. I prayed the fox cub wouldn’t struggle, and bounded up the nearest tree.
Minutes later, I was surrounded—hounds, huntsman, sabs. I peeked down through the leaves…it was a Roald Dhal moment if ever I saw one. I searched the crowd for Cash. He wasn’t there, but as the police descended on us—all two of them—I didn’t blame him. I hugged the fox close and settled in for a long wait, because nothing had changed. I’d die before this fox did.
***
“Boy, I’m so proud of you.” Meg hugged me tight. “Fletch just called. That cub is safely at Grovedawn. They’re going to assess him overnight, then get him up to that reserve in the Highlands.”
Relief washed over me. My treetop stand off had lasted all of ten minutes before the police had, astoundingly, ordered the hunt off the dairy farmer’s land. From there, the farmer’s wife—a vet—had come out and sedated the docile cub enough for him to travel. Cash had appeared in the van at just the right moment, and him and Fletch had whisked the cub away before our good luck ran out.
I’d stayed behind with only Cash’s departing wink for company as the police bollocked me for lifting the fox, trespassing, public disorder, and just about anything else they could think of.
The weekend sabs melted away, unwilling to argue with the coppers any more than they had to. I didn’t blame them. With the hunt abandoned, who wanted to linger in a damp field for the rest of the day?
I didn’t, but it was well into the afternoon by the time I got away. I’d sent Meg home a while ago, so I walked back to camp alone, keeping a sharp ear out for quad bikes. Goon had lost today, and I knew him well enough to be certain he’d be out for revenge.
But with Cash on my mind, it was hard to focus on the prospect of being clobbered by the Goon squad. We’d promised each other…something, and being unsure of exactly what didn’t curb the buzz in my veins. Anticipation laced with nerves was a potent thing, and I was so fucking high on it, I barely noticed my phone buzzing in my pocket. Ignored it entirely until it rang.
Startled, I fished it out of my pocket. The incoming call was from the unknown number and I stopped walking, Cash temporarily, impossibly, forgotten. I answered it, but didn’t speak. Heavy breathing and crackling greeted me, and then a voice with a thick northern accent.
“Stay there, Rae. We’re coming to meet you.”
***
Cash
What a fucking day. If I hadn’t already known Rae was batshit crazy, I did now. And I loved him for it.
I witnessed the scene from a distance, penned into a corner by the police who’d shown up moments after I’d thrown the main pack of riders off course. The leaders had escaped to run Rae down, but they’d failed gloriously.
Not that I’d known it until he was up the damn tree. Surrounded by angry toffs wielding whips, I’d been kind of distracted.
I’d laughed my arse off when I’d realised what he’d done. My humour hadn’t lasted long, given the circumstances, but for that blissful moment, it had been just us in a bubble with his absolute insanity.
The police had kept him back after, and dismissed everyone else from the amiable dairy farmer’s land. Fletch and I delivered the sedated fox to the animal hospital, and then returned to camp to wait.
I parked the van on Fletch’s field and climbed into the back to investigate Rae’s supplies. I had every intention of taking him back to my place, but I wasn’t adverse to a cosy night in the back of the van if he didn’t want to leave the camp. After rooting through Rae’s collection of noodles and porridge, I sent Lucky a text telling him I might not be home, then dragged Rae’s gas stove outside to make a brew. Sprig came over, and we shot the shit about nothing in particular until Meg appeared alone a little while later.
“Rae sent me,” she said. “Said there was no point us both getting cold. The police just want him to sign a statement, then he’ll be home.”
Relief washed over me, and I wondered what the future held for us if every weekend played out like the last few. I’d stepped away from Rae for good reason, and regretting it like a motherfucker hadn’t erased that. Could I seriously live with him putting himself at risk like he had today?
Maybe not, but I was beginning to see that it wasn’t a choice I’d ever be able to make.
Besides. Me and Rae were two sides of the same coin when it came to sabbing. And if he came home on the same page as me, we were in this together, for as long as he’d have me.
Warmth replaced relief as Meg departed for her own cosy fire and hot drink.
