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Choosing my clothes with care, I dress in the navy-blue, fitted shirt I’ve noticed Merri admiring before and pull on a pair of charcoal gray slacks that flatter my figure. I know Merri finds my body appealing, and I want to look my best when she lays eyes on me once more.
I step out of the bedroom and head down the hall, where the scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen. A note from Ga’Vine sits next to the coffee pot, announcing that he has already left to make arrangements for equipment to dig into the forest to uncover the bone pit once more.
Was it the closing of the front door that woke me? He can’t have been gone for long, since the coffee pot is still filling.
The clock on the wall tells me that I woke early, and a glance out the living room windows shows dawn’s light still fights back the night, filling the sky with a gentle blush of pink and purple.
Someone put the blankets away and banked the fire after we went to bed last night. What did Ga’Vine and Flint think when they returned with dinner, only to find us locked inside Merri’s room? Had there been anger? Jealousy? What moods might we face today?
I take a seat at the kitchen table, my fingers tracing patterns on the worn wood. The boogeyman skull stares back at me, and the hand rests off to the side. The paper map, refolded, shows the Bone Yard and woods on top.
I pull the map closer and lift one of the abandoned pens, carefully drawing out what I remember of the tunnels we traveled below ground. There had been many smaller pathways that came to dead ends, with nearly a direct line from the Bone Yard to the cave where we were trapped.
The sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen snaps me out of my thoughts, and my heart leaps into my throat. Should I greet Merri with a kiss? Or act normal so as not to pressure her to accept me before she’s ready?
When the unmistakable click of claws on the wooden floor fills the air, I stiffen, not in the mood to be alone with Flint when I’m filled with such uncertainty. Perhaps leaving Merri’s room was a mistake. At least there, I had a small chance of welcome.
Anny trots out of the hall first, her red fur glinting in the morning light. Spotting me, she races over, shoving her head against my leg for attention. I scratch her ears and the sides of her muzzle, and her eyes close with pleasure.
Flint follows Anny, his black hair combed back. Despite the early hour, he wears a pair of lightweight tan slacks, a cream, short-sleeved dress shirt, and a vest covered in golden starbursts. Even if Flint and I don’t get along, I have to admit he has a sense for fashion that the others lack.
When Flint spots me at the table, his eyes widen in surprise, and he stiffens. “Good morning. I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”
I release Anny, and she trots back to Flint’s side. “Ga’Vine has already left for the day. The coffee is almost ready.”
Flint’s brows lift, and his vibrant, blue eyes shift to the windows, where the sun now peeks above the tree line. “Did something happen?”
I shift in my chair to face Flint as he walks into the kitchen. “He wants to dig up the bone pit as soon as possible.”
“Of course, he does.” Flint opens the cupboard with the mugs, then glances back at me. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Surprised by the offer, I hesitate for a moment before accepting. “Yes, thank you.”
It’s a small gesture, but a significant one given our antagonistic history.
I stand and join Flint, stopping at the kitchen bar to stay out of his way.
He fills two mugs and glances at me once more. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Black, please.” It’s the way Marceau always drinks the nasty stuff, and I can’t imagine embellishments making it more tolerable.
Flint passes me the mug before walking to the fridge to pull out the bins that store Anny’s food.
Awkward silence stretches between us as he chops up vegetables, adding them to a large bowl.
I take a cautious sip of coffee, and my nose wrinkles at the slightly sour, burnt flavor. I set the mug back down and clear my throat. “So, have you had any luck coming up with a new name for Anny?”
Flint glances at his familiar, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “Yes and no. Her name is Orianna, but she won’t answer to any abbreviation besides Anny.”
“Orianna,” I repeat, the word tasting like the promise of a new day. “It’s Latin, right? Meaning sunrise?”
Flint’s gaze meets mine, and there’s a flicker of something in his blue eyes. “Yes.”
I smile down at the fox, who sits in a growing spot of sunlight, her fur glowing red and gold. “It’s fitting.”
Flint nods and finishes chopping the vegetables. He then pops open the second bin and uses a pair of tongs to lift out a dead rodent to lie on top before setting the bowl on the floor for Orianna.
She eagerly dives in, happy crunching rising from the floor just out of view.
