“Stop her?” The fish-keep, rubbing his eyes, looked at Rae. “Young miss?” he said, perplexed. “I’d ask you not to disturb the fish in the garden, they belong—”

Garden? Rae wondered briefly, still edging away. This was no garden.

“No! Stop her! Hold her! Take her arms!”

The fish-keep, bewildered but dutiful, shuffled toward Rae. “I’m sorry,” he said, proffering his arm. “I need to ask you to leave.”

“I’m just sear—” Rae began before the boy-man stomped his foot.

“TAKE her, you fool. Or no—” He reconsidered. “Go wake the guards. Get the guards!”

Still confounded, the fish-keep tottered away, and Rae, finally seeing where the wall overlapped itself, began to follow where he had departed.

“No, no.” The boy-man, holding his stick, moved to stop her. “You cannot leave.”

“Please,” Rae said, still advancing. “I don’t want the fish; I only—”

The boy-man loomed over her, stick raised and shaking. “I cannot,” he whispered. “The prophecy. I cannot. But I cannot let her leave.”

Rae, frightened by his size, by his simmering frenzy, cringed, waiting for the blow to come as she pushed past him.

“No!” Trying to block her, still he refrained from touching her. She swept past, sprinting toward the exit.

Too late—a cluster of breastplated men, led by the fish-keep with a wild look in his eye, was entering. Among them was the guard with the moon-shadowed eyes and his red-faced—and now bandaged—companions. Seeing Rae, the moon-eyed guard grimaced, shaking his head.

“See what we have for you—” cried the largest of the booted men.

“Lie-a-beds!” shouted the boy-man over the guard. “I called for you. No one came. Take the girl! Now!” He gestured violently at Rae, but the fish-keep, arm wrapped about her, was already hurrying her away.

Rae, bewildered, allowed herself to be propelled along. “This way,” the fish-keep murmured. “Quickly. You’ll want to be away from this.”

“What is the meaning of this?” cried the boy-man. “Guards, take—”

But even as he shouted, it became clear what the guards had for him, what the fish-keep meant to keep away from Rae.

A snarl, a low growling. A wild and terrible yelping. Savage sounds in the midst of the tidy garden.

The boy-man fell silent. The fish-keep fell silent. Rae, cold dread squeezing her heart, turned.

There, in the center of the cluster of guards, held on tight lines, a tawny wild thing—Ah, there you are!—crouched in terror and pain.

“Wolf!” Rae choked out.

The fish-keep, misunderstanding, tried to soothe her. “There, there, it’s all right,” he said into her ear as the guards, bowing, announcing their capture, explained how they found the wolf at hunt in the city. “They have him all chained.”

But Rae, breaking from his grasp, raced toward the creature. Too startled to react, the guards did nothing as she burst into their midst. “Wolf!” she cried, draping her arms over the beast’s neck.

“Girl!” shouted one of the booted men. “Get back! That’s a dangerous creature!”

But Rae held on. She could feel the wolf’s heart beating wildly, could feel his shuddering, terrified breath. A guard attempted to lift her away, sticking his meaty hands into her armpits, but now the wolf was truly snarling: With Rae still holding on, he turned, lunging, all jaws and slaver, at the man trying to carry Rae away. The man bolted, alarmed. Another guard grabbed Rae by her waist: As he yanked at her middle, lifting her feet off the ground, again, the wolf twisted and sprang, his teeth grazing the man’s arm. Cursing, leaping away, the man dropped Rae to the earth.