The blue fox who was bonded to Ferla Cavenda loved it second-best of all when Lovisa came home. Lovisa was one of the more interesting Cavendas, a born liar like Ferla, but better at it, because she didn’t need people to admire her.

First-best, of course, he loved the airship, into which he was never invited. He snuck up to the roof sometimes and sat inside, imagining the wind whipping against his fur as he flew toward adventure.

The fox was dozing on the hearthstone of Ferla’s study fireplace when he sensed Lovisa on the grounds outside, snooping. Sometimes Lovisa did that, climbed over the wall and circled the house before announcing herself at the gate. She snooped in the politics and government building too; the fox always knew when she was listening through the vents. Humans didn’t appreciate how much foxes could perceive. This suited foxes, for humans would sneak a lot less and be a lot less interesting if they knew. It was one of the secrets of foxkind.

He wasn’t surprised Lovisa had come home tonight. Lovisa had an instinct for when drama was brewing, and it was certainly brewing tonight. Ferla was a tornado of rage that coiled tighter and tighter as the evening progressed. Benni Cavenda, her husband, swept in from time to time to announce something boring about stupid zilfium. When he did this, Ferla would stare at him, throwing daggers with her eyes, until he went away. Ferla was furious at everyone and everything. The fox didn’t always like being bonded to Ferla Cavenda, but he did like these moments, for Ferla was a human composed of sharp motivations, passions, and ambitions, like a tangled pile of pins, always interesting. He might not always understand what her thoughts meant or what they referred to, but he always understood how she felt about them. And she had a warm, cozy house; an airship; a beautiful fur coat with a hood he could nestle into; and a family with a penchant for drama.

Casually raising his head from his paws, he touched Ferla’s mind with a question. Shall I make a round of the house, to see that all’s well?

All is not well, she stormed. I don’t care what you do, Fox. But you’d better be available if I want you.

I’ll check back often, of course, the fox reassured her quickly, wishing, as he always did, that she would ask him his chosen name. All the other bonded foxes he knew, including his seven siblings, had humans who called them by their chosen names, but Ferla always just called him “Fox.” A round of the house, no more, he said, to check that everyone’s behaving as you would wish.