The Bunny in the Fox's Palm novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: The Fox in Her Hands

The jaws around my spine jerked open for one half second.

It was all I needed.

Rabbits are small, and soft, and prey.

But we are built around two enormous legs, and nobody who has been kicked by a hare forgets it.

I braced against the wet roof of his mouth and drove both hind feet down into Linden's jaw as hard as I could.

I felt the crack through my whole body.

He screamed, high and furious, the sound a fox makes when it has never once been hurt.

I dropped into the snow and rolled.

Soren's fox hit him again.

They went over together in a flurry of silver-red and copper-red, teeth and snow, and the whole Council fell back in a ring of lanterns.

"Hold the lanterns," the old elder cried. "Do not interfere. It is the Hunt."

I lay in the drift with my ribs heaving and a line of blood running down my back, and watched my fox fight his uncle.

Linden was bigger, and older, and clever.

He had killed three rabbits by taking his time.

But Soren had been four years in a house where every cup was poison, and had held his own wildness leashed with both hands, and tonight the leash was gone.

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