He carefully slipped one end of the branch in between the teeth of the trap—it wasn’t easy—and then pushed it hard to lever the metal jaws open.The trap was strong and stiff, but “It’s moving,” the little girl crowed.He put all his weight into it and the trap opened, just enough for the vixen to escape.She was gone in a flash, fleeing unevenly through the brush on three legs.
Marcus pulled the branch out, the trap snapped shut with a loud crack!and the little girl clapped her hands, “Oh, thank you, thank you.I tried to open that horrid thing myself but I couldn’t budge it.”
His eyes widened.“You tried to open it yourself?”
“Yes of course.”
“But that’s dangerous.You could break your arm on that wretched contraption, and in any case, that vixen could have bitten you.”
She snorted.“Of course she wouldn’t.I told you, she’s my friend.”
Peoplehuntedfoxes.He’d never heard of anyone being friends with one.“Maybe, when she wasn’t mad with pain, but trapped like that and with her leg half chewed off, she would bite anyone.It’s instinct.”
He tossed the branch into the undergrowth.
“Don’t,” the little girl said, but it was too late.“I could have used that.”
“Used it for what?”
“Tripping the other traps.I do it every day.”
Marcus stared at her in shock.“You trip animal traps?”
She nodded.“I hate them.They’re horrid and cruel.”
“Yes, I know but ...”He didn’t know what to say.His father didn’t use traps on their land, but only because he preferred to hunt foxes, instead of trapping them.“It’s dangerous.”
She shrugged.“I know what I’m doing.”
“Who are you, anyway?”he asked.“Where do you live?”
“I’m Tessa.I live over there.”She gestured, but all he could see were trees.
“In the village?”
She laughed.“No, silly.At Ferndale.”When he still stared at her blankly, she added, “I’m Tessa Blaxland.”
Blaxland?Marcus blinked.“You’re Lord Blaxland’s ...?”He trailed off.Dressed as shabbily as she was and clearly allowed to run wild, she must be one of Lord Blaxland’s bastards.
She nodded.“His daughter, yes.”
He said awkwardly, “Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”
She laughed.“I escaped from NannyJune, who was my nanny and is now my governess.She was my mama’s nanny too, when Mama was small, but she’s ancient now and is always falling asleep.”
“Governess?”If she had a governess, she must be Lord Blaxland’s legitimate daughter.But if so, why was she dressed in shabby, faded, ill-fitting clothes?And left to run wild and unsupervised.
“Can I trust you?”she asked abruptly.
“Yes.”He hoped so, anyway.It was foolish to make a promise when you didn’t know what you were promising.And as a gentleman, his word was his bond, and therefore unbreakable.
“Would you like to see her kits?”
“The vixen’s, you mean?”
She nodded, and without waiting, she grabbed his hand and pulled him down another barely perceptible pathway.Ten minutes later she stopped.“Shhh.”She put a finger to her lips, then crept toward an opening in the underbrush.Marcus followed suit.
There in a grassy clearing, the vixen lay, panting, licking her injured leg while three small, fluffy fox kits fed from her.He watched, fascinated, as one by one they finished feeding and started frolicking around her, wrestling and mock-growling, playing just like puppies.
