Ren Frost's Arc

Chapter 7 of 13

By full light the gate was hung. Iron bars, scrap kennels stacked on either side, crates of feed showing through the rails. Anyone walking up would see the size of it and know there were animals behind. Ren wanted him to see. She wanted him to know she was not hiding. She pulled Jason back from the road. They worked fast on a low blind near the pasture edge — a small stone hide, snow piled on the roof, a slit to watch the wall through. From inside it she could see the treeline and not be seen. The wounded rabbit thumped once in its crate by the cave lamp. Seventy-three animals breathed behind the gate. He came out of the trees at a broken pine, hood up, a length of wire in his fist. He stopped at the wall. He did not climb it. He laid papers on the top stone and stepped back so she would have to come out to read them. Ren went. Jason followed two steps behind her. The papers were real enough — stamps, a printed list, twelve animals by description. Fox. Owl. Fawn. The rabbit. His name on every line. "They're mine," the stranger said. "You took them off my land." "Your land," Ren said. She held up her notebook. Snare marks. Wire cuts. A leg broken in a jaw trap and set wrong on purpose. "You catch them hurt. You sell them rescued. I watched the rabbit bleed in your wire." She set the notebook on the stone beside his papers. "Take me to court. Bring the documents. I'll bring the animals and the photos. Until a judge says otherwise, they stay." He looked at the gate. He looked at Jason. He folded his papers slowly and walked back into the trees without a word. Ren stood at the wall until he was gone. Her hands were shaking. The animals were hers for today. Tomorrow a summons could come, or worse — him back at dark with different tools. She turned to Jason. "We need a lawyer before Christmas," she said. He nodded once. The deadline had just grown teeth.