Where Foxes Hunt with Wolves (Folk Lore 2)

Mrs. Irena, distinctly less elegant in a black puffy coat and jeans, exhaled. “Young people can be stubborn. Wouldn’t you like to call him?”

“No. He needs to apologize. He should call me. You’d think at Christmas even animals speak with human voices, but no, Radek always does his own thing with no consideration for anyone.”

Yev leaned down and whispered to Radek. “See that lady? She owns a fox farm, and she’s talking of consideration. And her son? Good riddance, I tell you that.”

Radek deflated, but at least his ears were already flat under the new hat, so Yev wouldn’t notice the change in his mood. He’d be dropped like a hot potato as soon as Yev found out who he was dealing with.

“What is that thing? Did you get it at the farm in the valley?” Mom asked, her eyes settling on Radek with no idea that she was in fact talking of her own son.

Yev exhaled but turned toward the spice rack, ignoring her on purpose. It was quite surprising to see him act that way after learning the soft, compassionate side of him. “No. I’ve found him in the forest, caught in snares.”

Mrs. Irena exhaled, rubbing her cheek. “Oh, poor thing.”

“Still better off than the foxes at the farm,” Yev said casually, dropping a small black pepper mill into the cart.

Mom glared at Radek, her eyes sharp as blades. She’d never inspected the fox farm either. Maybe she was as ignorant as Radek?

“Hope you made yourself a charm with the paw. For good luck,” she said and walked off, flanked by Mrs. Irena who looked back at them one more time and gave an apologetic nod.

“What a bitch,” Yev whispered and pushed the cart in the other direction, his fingers rubbing Radek’s neck. “Don’t listen to her. If I didn’t have to keep a low profile, I would fight that fox farm.”

Radek huffed and poked Yev’s stomach with his nose. At times like this he wished to just stay as Yev’s fox and never have to deal with the fallout that was surely coming once he became human again.

But Yev didn’t mention the farm again, considerate of Radek's fox feelings, and they returned home in time for dinner.

Radek got organic canned food for dogs, Yev made himself a variation on pasta carbonara that smelled nothing like the real thing but was, apparently, delicious, and they settled on the sofa to watch their new favorite crime show.

As the evening passed, Radek rolled over, and Yev’s hand gravitated from his side to the tummy, gently scratching as the credits rolled on their small TV.

“Who do you think is the killer? Martha? Sergey?” Yev asked, lowering his head to kiss the top of Radek’s head. “Right. Yes or no questions. Martha?”

Radek let out a little bark. He was pretty sure she was the villain with her cozy baking show and sweet demeanor. It was all a facade. She probably put the bodies in her pies.

“I know, right?” Yev chuckled before switching off the TV. He rolled into a sitting position and stretched as he walked off to the kitchen. “I’ll just hang the laundry, and it’ll be time to sleep. We’re having an early start tomorrow.”

Laundry. Radek sat up in attention, his tail wagging on its own. Oh, this would be good. He loved playing pranks on Yev, and even though this one lacked any sophistication, he would still enjoy seeing Yev’s face once he realized he’d been duped. Radek’s little revenge for all the comments about the cushion.

He could hear the washing machine open, some rustling, and then silence.

“Motherfucker,” Yev said before storming back toward the living room, his heels banging loudly against the floor. He waved a small red towel at Radek. “Everything is pink! I keep the reds separate, you monster!”

Radek yelped, then cackled as he sprinted off the sofa in a bid to make Yev chase him.

Yev took the bait and rushed up the stairs, then along the short corridor, into the bedroom, drunk on the thrill of this big bad softie chasing him. He jumped on the bedside table, which served as a springboard for a hop on top of the wardrobe, but Yev was tall enough to reach there. When his fingers came all too close to Radek’s tail, he took a leap of faith and jumped straight to the bed.

But the freakishly large hands grabbed his ribs, and moments later he was hanging in the air and facing Yev’s scowling face. “You’re a bad, bad fox,” he said but was already cracking up.

Yev spun around and landed on the mattress, squeezing Radek to him with one arm and rubbing the top of his head with his fist. “Naughty, naughty fox, Ember!”

Radek whined and made high pitched barks as he pushed with his paws at Yev, but he wasn’t really trying to get away. He loved being so close to Yev, and no place felt as safe as his giant arms. The rubbing morphed into petting Radek’s belly, and he stopped play-fighting too, settling into the embrace and licking the inside of Yev’s elbow.