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him witnessing her embarrassing fighting skills as well.
    A faint cry made her ear twitch as she meandered through the forest. Her ears swiveled, searching for the sound. It came again somewhere to the left. She froze, sniffing the air trying to determine if she was in any danger. The small mewling continued. The pain in the cry broke Misty’s heart. It sounded like a young fox.
    Sometimes kids from the local middle school passed this area while playing. What if one of them had fallen and gotten hurt? Her imagination ran wild, picturing the young shifter’s friend running back to town for help, leaving the fallen child frightened and alone.
    Her fox couldn’t sense any danger–not that her fox instincts were all that strong. For whatever reason, most of her senses and instincts had never developed as well as most other shifters’ had. The weeping continued, a constant cry of pain and fear. Misty could no more ignore that sound than she could ignore a lost child, which it might very well be.
    Following the sound, Misty dodged through the trees until she came upon the source. The scene before her made her freeze. Horror and sympathy rose up inside her, tightening her throat. She swallowed past the lump, assessing the situation. It wasn’t some kids from her skulk, and no one would be coming to help.
    Misty tramped down the urge to cry as she watched the baby fox, not a shifter but a full fox, curl up with its fallen mother. She didn’t know what had killed the mother, maybe another animal, or starvation. Perhaps the mother had never recovered from birthing the youth, who looked to be no more than three weeks old. Whatever had happened, one thing was clear, the mother had done whatever possible to protect her child.
    The baby fox nudged the mother’s head with its nose, causing Misty’s heart to thud heavily in her chest. No way could she leave the kit here. If he didn’t starve to death, he would be a sitting duck for every predator in the forest. The mother could no longer protect her child, but Misty could. Reason enough to take action.
    With stilted steps, she approached the pair. The kit looked up at her, a pleading cry escaping as if asking her for help. Misty tramped down the tears that threatened to fall. She needed to be strong and get this baby to safety. She eased closer, giving the kit time to adjust to her smell so she didn’t frighten it. A boy, she realized, his scent becoming clearer the closer she got.
    It wouldn’t be easy to tear him away from his mother’s body. Using her nose, Misty pushed the baby away. Even recognizing the futility, Misty took a moment to nudge the adult fox with her nose. Cold and stiff, as she’d suspected.
    Poor baby. She’d lost her mother at a young age, too, but at least she hadn’t been in the car with her at the time. Hadn’t seen the destruction, or been left alone with a cooling body. And she’d had her father to love her.
    With a deep breath, Misty turned away from the body, forcing the kit to walk in front of her. Without looking back, she started home. Every now and then, the young fox would cry, breaking Misty’s heart again.
    When they got back to her house, she would make sure he had plenty of food and toys. If Cody arrived while she was at the pet store, he’d have to wait.
    It was actually kind of perfect. She’d been lonely lately, and thinking of getting a pet. Although she’d never wish this pain on anything, what could be better than another fox to keep her company?
    * * * *
    The first thing Cody heard when he approached Misty’s front door was laughter. The kind of laughter that came straight from the gut, borne of pure joy. A sound he’d come to associate with Misty. He smiled as he opened the door and strode into her living room.
    The text he’d received earlier had said to come right in, but his confident steps faltered as he saw the cause of her giggles. Misty in human form, sat on the floor with a beaver puppet, playing with a fox. The