The Way of the Fox Read Online Free

between great ragged aisles of reeds, with stepping stones jutting here and there out of the muck.
    The entire place was lifeless. There were no signs of blood, bandits or murder. No paths between the weeds. A fter a long hour of pottering about, she had very little to show for her efforts.
    The fox sat down and pondered, musing on whether or not she should venture deeper into the swamp, or return back to the road.
    Surely it was safe enough to leave the boys on their own?
    Tonbo would be marching along the road, with the new guy – the one with the attitude – at his side. They should be able to look after themselves for a few minutes more. Paws twinkling, Sura trot-trot-trotted along the edges of the swamp. She finally spied a series of hummocks that lead off into soggy islands out amongst the reeds. Sura leapt over onto a little island of decaying weeds, and began to spy out a path deeper on into the marsh.
    A fallen lo g made a clear bridge out into the swamp. Sura made her way across onto another isle. This one showed a great deal of black mud, churned up by what looked like footprints. Greatly pleased, she nosed her way forward, sniff-sniff-sniffing . A rank scent led off along the far edge of the island, stopping at the shore.
    A shallow stretch of water lay between Sura and the next island. There were bleached old sticks and branches lying just beneath the oily surface, glittering in the light. Fortunately a scatter of stepping stones led over to the isle. With delicate, mincing steps, Sura walked along the stones and out towards the little island. She came ashore dry, quite pleased at having avoided the mud. She quested up and over a mound of dirt, whiskers quivering, and made a discovery there amongst the reeds.
    A peddler’s pac k frame lay on its side. The wood frame had been gashed and splintered clean in two. The broken wood was discoloured by dark old stains.
    There was some other wreckage just nearby: a helmet almost ripped to ribbons, and some mottled, mildewed priestly robes...
    Another set of rags had been caught by the wind and tangled in the brambles. It was a single garment – weird, stiff and pink, like old discoloured paper. Sura crept forward, sniffing, and nudged the weird thing with her nose.
    The rags flopped and shifted. A fold drooped free, hanging upside down.
    It was the complete, empty skin of a woman’s face, with long trailing hair. The ‘rags’ were a discarded, rotting human skin.
    Sura recoiled, snee zing furiously at the stench of blood and decay. She looked suddenly back to the swamp behind her. Amongst the sticks lying there beneath the water, there were several gnawed and broken human bones.
    “ Mother pus bucket…!”
    There was no need to panic ! Everything was still OK. The boys were up there on the road, well away from the swamp. They were armed, they were armoured, they were together…
    … and the new guy had absolutely no nose for danger.
    Crap!
    Leaping from stone to stone, Sura sped wildly off towards the shore. She skidded in the grass, took her bearings, then shot off like a streak of orange lightning.
     
     
    As the road dipped down towards the swamps, the trees became far more grey, more drab and dull. Great sheets of spiders’ webs hung loose across the leaves, scarcely stirring in the still, thick air. Overhead, dark clouds gathered. It seemed that they were due for a cold spring rain.
    The sky grew dark – and the air seemed deeply still.
    Kuno halted at the swamp-side of the road, listening carefully. There was a sound – a very slight lilting in the air. The sound of a girl singing. Kuno saw a side trail leading off towards the marsh. Tonbo joined him, and they stood together, carefully considering the path.
    Tonbo shook his head.
    “We should wait for Sura.”
    “If there has been murder, then it is our duty to investigate.” Kuno saw to the already immaculate set of his swords. “Foxes notwithstanding.”
    “We might need her.”
    “I cannot