The vixen was waiting.
Dappled sunlight fell around her onto the soft dirt beneath the orange trees, gilding her russet fur and striking an occasional brief gleam from her yellow eyes. She had waited here in the orchard since dawn and she was prepared to go on waiting until moonset if necessary. She required only one child, but that child must be alone, and there must be no other human on the street to bear witness.
She was very tired.
At last the front door of the house across the street opened. A ripple of tension went through the vixen’s body, starting at the tip of her tail and racing...