Margaret’s voice stayed steady. “Good girl. Stay with me.” Ethan slipped inside, kneeling at her shoulder, waiting for the smallest opening.
“Now,” Margaret breathed. Ethan reached, swift and sure. “Got it!” He stumbled back with a trembling bundle in his arms.
Shira’s roar shattered the dawn, rattling the viewing glass. “Easy!” Margaret soothed, sliding a bowl of meat close, rubbing her shoulder in slow circles.
Ethan looked down at the red-brown fur streaked with dirt. It gave a thin, broken cry. “A fox,” he whispered. “A baby fox.”
