Shadow of The Fox (Shadow of the Fox #1) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,104

he added as I bowed once more and turned away, “the clan will be watching them, and you, demonslayer. Do not give us a reason to act.”

When I returned to the table in the corner, most of the food was gone. The plates were picked over, with only bones and scraps remaining. Only my bowl of rice sat untouched on the edge, though the ronin was eyeing it as if contemplating snatching that up, as well.

“Sorry, Tatsumi-san,” Yumeko said as I knelt across from her on the cushion. “I tried to keep baka-Okame from eating everything, but he didn’t want to share. We can order more, if you like.”

“Dogs don’t share, Yumeko-chan.” The ronin grinned, using a fish bone to pick at his teeth. “We’re horrible gluttons like that. Besides, who wolfed down a dozen fried tofu balls all by herself?”

“Because you had already eaten all the fish, and the chicken, and most of the squid. If I didn’t claim something there would’ve been nothing left.”

“That’s not true. I left you the pickled radish.”

“I hate pickled radish.”

“Well, be faster next time. When it comes to food among thieves, Yumeko-chan, it is every man, woman and dog for themselves.”

I ate my rice in silence.

22

The Eyes of a Dead Crow

Never taunt a hungry fox was a saying Master Isao had been unusually fond of. I’d always wondered why, until now.

We left Yashigi the next morning and for several miles walked down a meandering dirt road through the fertile valley of the Sun Clan. The mountains remained in the distance as we followed the river past farming communities, temples and shrines, open meadows and dense woodland. The scenery was beautiful, the weather perfect in every way; I was fully enjoying the sights and the feel of the sun on my skin.

The ronin seemed less enthusiastic.

“Ite,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as we stopped in the shade of a bamboo grove. “Kuso, my back is sore. That inn must’ve had the lumpiest futon in the world. It felt like there was a damn pinecone right in the middle of the mattress, but when I pulled it up there was nothing there.”

“That’s unfortunate, Okame-san,” I said. “My futon was so comfortable, it was like I was sleeping on clouds. Maybe it was something you ate?”

He glared at me, suspicion flaring in his dark gaze. “I seem to remember you poking around my corner of the room right before we went to sleep,” he said accusingly. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with my lumpy mattress, would you, Yumeko-chan?”

“Me? What a wicked thing to imply, Okame-san. I mean, you checked under your futon, right? It’s not like I could make a pinecone look like a bit of dust on the floor.” I smiled at him sweetly and tossed a pickled plum into my mouth. I was beginning to get the hang of this sarcasm thing. “Perhaps all the boiled squid was giving you a stomachache?”

“Quiet,” Tatsumi growled. “Something is watching us.”

We fell silent. Around us, the woods were still, beams of sunlight slanting through the bamboo. Cicadas droned, and a breeze rustled the stalks, muffling the sound of approach. I didn’t sense anything dangerous, but Tatsumi possessed an almost supernatural premonition for things that wished us harm. If he said something was watching us, I believed him.

“I don’t see anything,” Okame said, just as I spotted what Tatsumi did. Across the road, a large black crow sat hunched atop a tree branch, feathers bristling like quills, beady eyes unblinking as it stared at us.

Okame, following my gaze, let out a snort. “Oh, how horrifying, a bird is watching us,” he gasped, putting a hand on his heart. “Watch yourself, Yumeko-chan, it might poop in your hair.”

The crow didn’t move. It stared at us with intense, sullen hostility, and I felt a shiver creep up my back. “I don’t like the way it’s watching us,” I said. “It looks...angry.”

“Really? Looks like a bird to me,” the ronin said. When I didn’t answer, he shrugged and unshouldered his longbow. “Here then, I’ll fix it.”

In one smooth motion, he raised the bow and loosed an arrow at the tree, and the muffled thump of the dart striking home rang out a second later. The crow let out a strangled caw and tumbled from the branch in a flutter of wings and black feathers.

As it fell, a strange sensation rippled through the air, a subtle release of power that raised the hair on my arms. All