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  “He’ll be okay.” Aiken put a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “He’s a tough old bird.”

  Rowan tried to smile and turned away from the water. Olor was tending to Cygnus’s wound as best she could, the huge bird’s head resting against Olor’s chest. Aiken was looking a little lost without his red-breasted friend. Behind them the foxes howled. And as if that weren’t bad enough, it began to rain.

  “We need to find somewhere dry while we wait for Harold,” said Rowan. “Can Cygnus move?”

  Olor nodded, and helped heave the great bird up onto her webbed feet.

  “Let’s stay out of sight under these trees. It won’t be long before the sun is back up. Aiken, can you gather some twigs to make a shelter?”

  Aiken seemed glad to have something to do that he was good at, twigs being very much his department. Rowan sat down next to Olor and Cygnus. She could see dark blood sticking together the shiny black feathers of the great bird. Olor looked worried. Rowan tried to reassure her, offering her a leaf to push against the wound.

  “Hold this against the blood. It’s what my dad does when he’s cut himself shaving. Harold will get help and it will all be fine.”

  Olor didn’t seem convinced. “I never had anyone before Cygnus who, who cared about me. I don’t know what I would do if . . .”

  “It’s just her wing that’s hurt,” said Rowan. “She’s going to be okay.”

  But Rowan knew how Olor was feeling. She put her arm around Olor. A tear ran down her friend’s cheek.

  “You’re all right, you know,” said Olor. “For an Oakwing.”

  Rowan squeezed her into a hug, and Olor smiled through her tears.

  “You’re getting my feathers all mucky,” said Olor.

  Rowan smiled, spat on her fingers, and pretended to wipe the dirt off Olor’s snowy white feathers.

  “Good as new.”

  Aiken returned with a pile of sticks as big as him, and dropped them onto the ground with a clatter.

  “Feel free to have a nice rest, girls. I’ll just do all the work, shall I?”

  A berry bounced off Aiken’s head, leaving a large purple sticky mess in his hair. Olor had another tiny fruit poised to throw at him.

  “Oi, not in the hair!” cried Aiken, juice dripping down his face. Some of it ran into his mouth. “Actually, it tastes pretty good.”

  Rowan and Olor laughed. Somewhere in the distance a fox howled, and their smiles faded.

  * Chapter Nine *

  A WHITE FOX AND A BLACK FEATHER

  The rain had stopped, but the dampness left behind made them feel cold in the clear moonlit night. They had built a little shelter out of the sticks and were huddled together for warmth. Aiken had kept a few sticks back and was sharpening one against the other.

  “Enjoying that?” asked Olor, shivering slightly.

  “You might think sharpening sticks is boring, Featherwing,” said Aiken, holding the point of a stick up to admire his handiwork, “but we’ll see who’s laughing when the foxes come after us next time.”

  Rowan was more worried about their absent friend. “Shouldn’t Harold be back by now?”

  “He may be a stuck-in-his-ways, sort of dull, annoyingly-always-right kind of bird,” said Aiken, “but he pretty much always does what he says he’s going to do.”

  Just then they heard a small splash in the distance, and then another.

  “What was that?” asked Olor.

  “It’s probably just ducks,” said Aiken.

  Rowan wasn’t so sure. She hurried down to the water’s edge to see where the noise was coming from. Dark shapes were moving in the water by the opposite bank.

  “Harold did say foxes couldn’t swim, right?” Rowan asked.

  “No more than you can,” replied Olor.

  Aiken joined her at the shore.

  “Then I guess they can’t be foxes,” said a worried-sounding Aiken.

  Olor sprang to her feet to come alongside them. Sure enough, there were foxes in the water, headed directly for them. More of the creatures swarmed behind them.

  “They’ve been pacing up and down for hours,” said Olor, starting to panic. “And now they decide they can swim.”

  “Let’s get up into the trees,” said Rowan.

  The fairies’ wings made an urgent harmonic sound as they lifted up into the branches of one of the trees on the island.

  “Come on, Cyggy,” shouted Olor down to the swan below them. “You can do it.”

  Cygnus was flapping her great wings, but they weren’t strong enough to get her into the sky. Olor looked at Rowan and shook her head.

  “Okay, we’ll have to stop them before they get here,” shouted Rowan as she sprang from her branch. Her wings worked hard as she sped through the air toward the foxes’ bobbing heads. She was soon joined by Olor and Aiken, and they buzzed around the foxes like angry wasps, darting in and out. One fox became hypnotized by them for long enough that it was carried away by the current. The other foxes weren’t so easily distracted, and kept heading straight toward the island. Rowan and her friends whipped around and flew back to their shelter. Aiken picked up his sharpened twigs and ran to the shore.

  “Come on, then, furballs!” he yelled, holding his sticks at the ready, though his legs were shaking.

  Olor and Rowan hovered above him, pulling berries off nearby bushes and throwing them like baseball pitchers at the foxes’ heads, making them growl. The first fox to reach the bank rose ominously out of the river, the water slicking off its back. The creature fixed Aiken with its beady gaze as it shook off the droplets, then slowly prowled closer and closer. Then it leapt at him, jaws gaping. Instinctively Aiken jabbed his stick at the fox, but he couldn’t really see what he was doing, as he’d closed his eyes tight shut. Luckily, the stick rammed into the fox’s mouth, jamming it wide open. Aiken opened his eyes again to see the fox howling in pain as it tried to shake itself free of the stick wedged in its jaws.

  “Take that!” he yelled, but another three foxes were climbing out of the water. Aiken hesitated, his face turning pale, as the trio of foxes prowled closer. Then he ran back to the safety of a sapling.

  Rowan and Olor rained down anything they could find onto the foxes’ heads. Then they heard an urgent honking sound behind them. There was a flurry of feather and fur. Something terrible was happening. A fox had slipped around the side without them noticing. Its jaws were clamped around Cygnus’s neck, and the bird honked desperately as she was dragged off into the undergrowth.

  “No!” shouted Rowan, giving chase, with Olor close behind. They smashed through the foliage flying only a meter above the ground, breaking through leaves and grasses, before Olor hit a branch and was thrown to the earth. But there was no time to wait for her. Rowan sped on, suddenly exploding out over the open water on the other side of the island. She could see the fox who was carrying Cygnus approaching the opposite side of the river. She darted toward it, lunging down to beat her fists against the animal’s head. Cygnus’s head was lolling back into the water, but the fox wouldn’t let go, no matter how hard Rowan tried to make it release her friend.

  The fox forged on relentlessly toward the bank, dragging the swan in the water behind it. Desperately Rowan flung her arms around Cygnus’s neck and clung on. Another police boat zoomed around the island. As it raced past, its wake formed a wave that crashed over them, throwing Rowan headlong into the icy black water. She spluttered to the surface, thrashing around in a panic, to see the fox struggling to drag Cygnus onto the bank. Not only was Rowan powerless to swim after them, but she couldn’t even keep her own head above the water. She began to sink beneath the surface, her arms flailing as everything cut away to silence. Silence that surrounded and smothered her. She felt her lungs bursting and panic rising, but then suddenly two hands hooked beneath her armpits and dragged her out of the water. The howls of the foxes filled her ears once more as the noise of the world above returned.

  Olor heaved her out of the river.

 
“Cygnus!” was all that Rowan could manage to say.

  “Too. Late. For her,” said Olor, straining to hold Rowan up. “But not. For you.”

  Olor half-carried Rowan back to the island, her wet wings beating hard to propel them both through the waves, until they finally collapsed in a heap on the shore. Rowan sucked in great heaving breaths.

  “Thank . . . you . . .” was all Rowan could say. Olor was staring out into the night, back in the direction that Cygnus had been taken by the fox. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she was refusing to let herself cry.

  “I’m sorry,” said Rowan.

  Olor wrenched her gaze away from the river. “It’s not your fault, Rowan.”

  But Rowan couldn’t help feeling that it might be her fault. That she could have done more. They heard a howl on the other side of the island.

  “Aiken!” said Rowan, snapping them both out of their trance. They jumped up and beat their wings to shake off the water.

  “Okay?” asked Olor.

  Rowan was still a little shaky, but she nodded. They sprang into the air, wheeling up over the trees. Rowan glanced over at Olor. She knew how the other girl was feeling. They were high in the air now, ready to dive back to earth. Rowan hoped against hope that Aiken would be all right. They couldn’t lose someone else precious to them. And all of a sudden she was thinking about her mom, and about her dad, and about her sister. She spotted Aiken bravely fending off three foxes at once, jabbing at them with his sticks.

  All the worries churned around inside Rowan. They scraped the inside of her head till it hurt and made her stomach queasy. And as she hurtled toward the ground, she began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. She felt herself stretching, changing. It was similar to the feeling she’d had by the Buckingham Palace flagpole, but this time it was as though her muscles had expanded to twice their size. She felt stronger, bigger, angrier.

  She hit the earth in a whirl of leaves and caught sight of a pair of white, furred paws in front of her. Her brain raced to catch up with what her eyes were telling her. But there was no doubt.

  She was a fox.

  A snarling, angry, pure-white fox.

  Rowan bared her long fangs, raising herself up to strike. The power in her muscles filled her with confidence and strength. She leapt toward the foxes surrounding Aiken, scattering them in a blur of fur and claws. But she wasn’t finished yet. She snapped at their tails, caught one in her teeth, and whirled it to the ground. The others fled back to the water as she stood over the beast. She opened her jaws wide, something inside her willing her to attack. To take revenge for what the foxes had done to Cygnus. The other creature looked up at her, whimpering. She saw the fear in its eyes and found herself raising a single clawed paw, ready to lash out. . . .

  “Rowan!” came a voice from behind her. “ROWAN!” It was Olor.

  Rowan shook her head clear and lowered her paw to the ground, realizing what she had been about to do. She shrank back from the fox, more scared of herself than the other animal. It scrambled away. Olor came over and gently stroked Rowan’s head.

  “It’s over,” she said.

  Rowan felt her fox limbs contracting, fur dissolving, tension from her muscles releasing, until she was just a shivering fairy again, curled up in a ball on the ground.

  “What on earth just happened?” Rowan asked, slowly sitting up.

  “You saved me, furball,” said Aiken, smiling.

  Rowan looked over at Olor to see that she was holding a small downy feather in her hands. It was one of Cygnus’s. She crouched down and placed the feather carefully behind Rowan’s ear.

  “It’s all right, Rowan,” whispered Olor.

  Olor squeezed her into a grateful hug. When they finally broke away, out of the corner of her eye, Rowan saw Aiken quietly picking another black feather from a nearby bush, and tucking it into the little belt that he kept his small sharp twigs in.

  Back across the river, the last of the foxes were dragging themselves out onto the far bank. Standing high up above them on the bank was a large grizzled fox. It threw its head back and let out a howl. For all Rowan knew, it had been there all along—watching. Its head was tinged with black and gray, and its eyes shone pale yellow in the moonlight. Those eyes suddenly fixed themselves on Rowan. The fox dipped its head, as if to say, I know who you are. A shiver went through Rowan’s body.

  “What is that?” said Aiken.

  “That,” replied Olor, “would be Vulpes.”

  “I thought he was a fairy?” said Rowan.

  “He’s a shape-shifter,” replied Olor.

  “I guess he knows that you’re one too now, Rowan,” added Aiken. Rowan shakily got to her feet and went to the water’s edge. She stared back at Vulpes, her eyes burning with resolve. Through the gloom Vulpes’s eyes narrowed to meet hers. Rowan felt Aiken and Olor arrive at either side of her, and she felt stronger still.

  Out of the darkness came the sound of hooves beating through a field. The foxes scattered, ducking beneath bushes, until with a final wave of the orange tips of their tails, they disappeared completely. Vulpes gave one last look over the river before slinking away through a hedgerow, just as an enormous red stag leapt over the top, silhouetted against the moon. The fairies could just make out a tiny bird perched on one of its enormous antlers.

  “Harold!” cried Rowan.

  “What took you so long, beak face?” shouted Aiken.

  * Chapter Ten *

  OUTFOXED

  “So, there I was with Cervus and the Fairies of the Deer . . .”

  Aiken yawned. “Is this story going to take as long as the last one, Harold?”

  Rowan and Olor were perched on one of the great stag’s antlers, with Harold on the opposite side. Aiken nestled in the furry bed of the deer’s head as the great copper-colored beast strode along the towpath by the river.

  “Well, if you don’t want to hear what happened . . .”

  “Can we just skip to the important bit?”

  “Fine.” Harold looked a little annoyed. “This is Elaphus.” He waved a wing at the stag. “He’s been sent to help us get to the River Fairies.”

  “You see?” Aiken stretched himself out and closed his eyes. “Much better.”

  Elaphus was being bothered by a fly. He shook his head to get rid of it, but only succeeded in throwing Aiken onto the grass below. The others clung on, laughing, as Aiken dusted himself off and flew back up to the deer’s head.

  “We’re just glad you’re okay, Harold,” said Rowan, her hand reaching to touch the feather behind her ear. Aiken muttered under his breath. “Oh, you’re glad that he’s okay? I’ll just fight off the foxes with my bare hands, fall from the top of a stag’s head . . .”

  Rowan slid down and gave Aiken a big hug, shaking off her thoughts of Cygnus for a moment.

  “We never would have made it off the island without you, stick boy.”

  Aiken puffed his chest back out again. Rowan looked up to see Olor rolling her eyes.

  “Or maybe if Rowan hadn’t transformed into a fox and saved you from a certain squishing . . .”

  Harold looked around sharply. “Rowan transformed into a . . . fox?”

  “It was actually pretty amazing,” said Aiken. “First she was flying, then she was spinning, then she was snarling, and scratching, and snapping. . . .”

  Harold cocked his head sideways and looked down at Rowan. Rowan could feel him staring at her, and she started to blush.

  “Harold, am I a bit weird?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that, Rowan. I wouldn’t say that at all.” Rowan waited for more, but clearly that was all he had to say on the matter.

  • • •

  Elaphus trotted along the river path, gently jogging the friends up and down on his back. Rowan looked over to see Olor gazing at the moon glinting off the Thames.

  “Are you all right?” Rowan whispered.

  Olor nodded, but Rowan could see that the events of the night were catchin
g up with her.

  “Hey, Olly, look at this!” Aiken was now standing on top of one of the antlers, pretending to surf. Rowan and Olor smiled at each other. They didn’t need to say a word to know what the other was thinking. What an idiot. But kind of a sweet one.

  “Are we nearly there yet, beak face?” Aiken called over to Harold, who was perched on the opposite set of antlers.

  “Not far,” came the reply. “But not easy, either.”

  “It is what it is,” Rowan said, trying to do her best impression of Harold, and making Olor giggle.

  Harold didn’t join in the laughter. “Vulpes could return at any time. He’s seen you shape-shift. And we know how much he hates other powerful fairies. He’ll try to get to you before we reach the park. He’s just waiting for the right moment. And between here and the park it’s not just foxes we have to worry about.”

  “Thanks, Voice of Doom,” said Aiken.

  Harold ruffled his feathers, but, as if to prove his point, when they finally cleared the tree line, they saw a riverside pub up ahead. Three men were standing outside, staring out over the river. There was no way of walking behind them, and these men wouldn’t miss a stag, three fairies, and a talking bird if they wandered past. Elaphus paused and held back in the gloom for a moment. It looked like they would just have to wait for the men to leave.

  “Okay,” announced Aiken. “I’ve got this.”

  “Whatever you’re thinking, I can guarantee it’s not a good idea,” replied Harold.

  “Oh, you always say that, beak face. Wait here.”

  Before anyone could protest, Aiken buzzed away toward the pub. He skimmed along the surface of the river like a dragonfly, keeping out of sight beneath the riverbank, before coming to a halt just above the water near where the men were standing. Rowan realized she was holding her breath as Aiken buzzed his wings, sounding an unexpectedly beautiful melody.

  She watched as one of the men wandered over to the river to try to work out where the sound was coming from. His mouth dropped open as Aiken rose slowly from beneath the riverbank to hover in the air, just above the water.