The creature snapped and hissed, crawling in a circle as if trying to create a smaller and smaller ball of fox—something tiny enough to fit through the mesh and escape. Angeline dropped the blanket again, and the persistent fuss of the animal’s crying tapered off.

“Why is it Zeke’s fox?” Rector asked.

“Because he’s the one who wanted to save it. Him and me, I guess, but I don’t plan to look after it, and I expect he will. Help me carry this,” she directed.

Rector did so, but he made sure to grab a good handful of blanket before putting his fingers anywhere within potential biting distance.

He needn’t have worried. The fox cowered away from both of them.

“Where are we taking it?” he asked as he lumbered beside her, walking sideways to keep from dropping the cage and fox both.

“I thought one of these extra rooms down here might do the trick. Same as you, I expect,” she said. “You picked one out? Is that what you’re doing down here?” She sidled as they walked, the cage held between them.

“Yes, ma’am,” he admitted. “Miss Mercy threw me out of the sickroom.”

“You ain’t sick no more.”

“Sure, but I didn’t have noplace else to go.”

She stopped beside a half-open door. “Here—this room over here ought to be fine for the fox, for now. You didn’t see anybody else around? Not that I think anyone’d need the space, but you never know.”

“No, I think I’m the only one down here. But we can always shut the door and … um … and put a sign on it.”

“Not sure how much good that’d do.” She pushed the door open with her hip and backed into the room, drawing the cage and Rector along behind her. “Half the folks down here can’t read. But if the idea of a snarling fox who’s all sick with Blight doesn’t keep ’em out, they deserve to get bit. I’ll pass the word around upstairs.”

Rector accompanied her to the far wall, where they deposited the fox.

Angeline drew the blanket back all the way, and the light from the corridor cast a wide shaft into the room. She scared up a lantern, lit it, and drew it close enough to the animal so she could get a better look.

Rector said, “That’s about the most pitiful thing I ever saw.”

“I have to agree with you there,” she nodded.

The fox’s ribs stuck out through its patchy fur, and its eyes were glassy and gold. They had an odd orange tinge to them—something unnatural and unhealthy, like the crows … except the fox did not appear otherwise well. Its tongue lolled, its eyes bugged, and its ears drooped sadly.