Chapter 7: The Bluff

Prim reached for the tail.

Ivor's hand got there first.

He lifted it out of the box, held it under his nose and breathed in.

Then he snorted and dropped it on the table.

"Hare," he said.

"What?"

"Snow hare. A big one." He flicked it with one finger. "Sewn onto a strip of dyed rabbit and brushed out. Somebody spent all night on it."

Linden picked it up.

Ivor was right.

Up close, the hairs were hollow and the roots were grey under the white. The seam at the base was tiny, careful work.

Lucian sewed beautifully. He'd told everyone at Blackmere so.

"It's a bluff," Linden said.

Prim shook her head.

"Gods. I thought he'd killed one of us."

"He wants me to think he could."

"Why would he even send it?" She frowned at the note. "What does he mean, what you are? Everyone knows what you are. You're a fox."

Across the table, Ivor said nothing at all.

He didn't look at Linden.

He just picked up the bread knife and cut himself a slice, slowly, giving him room.

Linden could have kissed him for it.

"He means I'm the one who knows the Hollow's ledgers," Linden lied to his sister. "He wants me scared."

Prim believed it because she'd never had a reason not to.

Ivor's knife paused for one heartbeat on the bread.

He'd smelled it.

He still said nothing.

But Linden knew exactly what the note meant.

Two winters ago a white fox had limped out of the Wolf Cave with one tail fewer than it went in with.

Lucian had walked in a minute later with a lantern.

He'd seen the fox.

He didn't know it was Linden, not for sure. If he knew, he wouldn't be sending hare fur. He'd be sending trappers.

But he was close enough to guess.

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