Morrow tossed and turned on the unfamiliar bed. It felt hard, and lumpy and unkind, like a bowlful of porridge. Why had her mother taken them to this cottage at the edge of the city? It didn’t feel like an adventure. The night was sharp with the scent of fear. What did fear smell like? Fear smelt like sweat and cold wind and the gnawing of unfinished sentences.
A sudden creak made the fur on her back stand on end. The door. What was happening? Was someone… coming in? Then she heard firm voices that she couldn’t quite make out at first, but soon rose to shouting. Mother’s voice, then an unfriendly growling. She hurried out of bed, clutching her stuffed toy, Miss Buttons, tightly in her clammy paws. Her tail swished back and forth anxiously as she raced down the stairs, her little six year old legs trying to take them two at a time. When she reached the doorway, she froze. In the middle of the living room her mother was struggling to break free of the grip of a cat with a strange uniform, who was trying to shove a pair of handcuffs on her wrists.
Morrow’s blood turned to ice. Her amber eyes widened and Miss Buttons fell onto the floor. Her paw instinctively flew to her mouth.
“Mother!!” she shrieked, her shrill voice slicing through the air.
Mother twisted around immediately.
“Morrow, go back to bed,” she urged.
“No way! Mummy, what’s going on?” Morrow asked, trembling slightly as she saw how her mother shook.
“Well, well, what have we here?” said a voice.
A fox that Morrow hadn’t realised was there strode forwards. He wore a doublet adorned with pearls and smiled a smile with too many teeth. Morrow shied away.
“Don’t touch her” Mother shouted.
“Mummy, who’s this fox?” Morrow asked, stepping back.
“Now, your mummy has been very naughty,” said the fox in a condescending tone. “So we are just going to take her somewhere to tell her off for a bit.”
“Where are you taking her?” Morrow’s voice quivered.
His eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Prison.”
“What?” Morrow croaked. The fox turned away. The cat yanked her mother forwards.
“No!” she raced forwards but the fox knocked her down with a swift paw. “What do you think you can do, flea?” he sneered.
“Morrow, go!” her mother yelled, as she was dragged out of the door.
“Come back” Morrow cried, running after her.
Before she could reach her, mother was pushed into a carriage and the door slammed like a broken promise. The wheels slowly began to shift into motion. Morrow raced after it, panting heavily. It was too late. The carriage rolled out of sight.
Morrow stared at the empty space where it had been for several long moments. She looked so alone, the thin figure in a white nightgown on the deserted road. Then she curled up on the pavement, not crying, not moving, but just numbly feeling her heart chip away.
