Maren found him after the floor closed for the night.
She didn't knock.
She came into the room where he was sitting and stood in the middle of it with her hands still smelling of smoke, and she didn't sit down.
"I've never asked," she said.
Soren waited.
"Where the fox came from. I've never once asked it. Not in my whole life."
◆◆◆◆
She started moving then, small steps, the pacing she fell into when the fire wanted out and she was holding it in.
"I know the girl," Maren said. "I know everything about the girl. I know her name and I know the town she died in and I know what she liked to eat and I know she had a sister who cried at the funeral I wasn't awake for yet."
"You took her after."
"I took her after. That part I know cold."
She stopped.
"But the fox. The thing that walked into her. I have never once asked where that came from. It was just always me. I was always the fox. A fox doesn't have a town."
◆◆◆◆
Soren watched her circle the room.
