Page 42 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

Joe gazed around, then turned toward the dome of newly-leafed branches at the heart of the orchard. “We’ll find Argent over there.”

Jarrah’s nose twitched. “How do you know?”

“Mmm … because he’s not trying to hide. I can only tell if he’s here when he wants me to know he’s here.”

“That’s foxes,” Jarrah said seriously.

“I think he lets me know to be polite.” Joe offered his hand.

Jarrah grabbed hold, and they walked together.

“Do you need to … talk about things? I’ll listen.”

“Not this time,” said Jarrah, swift with his decision. “This once, since it’s the last time, I want to know what Kyrie thinks.”

“Does he give good advice?”

“He asks good questions.”

Once they were closer to Biddie, it was possible for Joe to see the very beginnings of flower buds sparkling in her treetops. Also, there was something going on—carefully, delicately. He wasn’t catching resonance, but a sudden certainty made Joe smile. They had extra company today.

Bush spotted them and came frisking forward, rising up on his hind legs in order to nuzzle Jarrah’s cheeks. Meanwhile, a little boy with pale gold ringlets came trudging up out of Biddie’s hollow. He gasped at the sight of Jarrah and toddled over, horning in on Bush’s hug.

Joe lifted a hand, signaling an all’s well to Misha’s daddy.

Jiminy grinned and turned back to Argent, who was replacing the seat on the low stone bench that doubled as the hiding place for the Orchid Saddle.

It was nice to have their anchor back. Jiminy had babied his protective array back into its original alignment, and Argent must have wanted to check on his sigilcraft.

And found nothing to criticize. Joe would have noticed any meddling.

“You are a friend of squirrels?” Jarrah asked softly. He’d picked up Misha and had him propped on his hip. He was soon playing peekaboo from behind his tail.

While it seemed obvious in hindsight, Joe realized he hadn’t been giving Jarrah much credit. He might be the youngest in their group of guests, but a boy of nine was probably a big help in a houseful of littler children.

“Here you are at last,” called Argent, beckoning.

Joe wasn’t sure if the fox meant him or Jarrah, but they walked down the slope together.

Argent sat upon the bench with a regal air, making it seem like a throne. “Jarrah. Leave that and come here.”

That was apparently Misha.

Jiminy scooped his son and excused himself with a wolvish hand signal that meant something along the lines of regroup at the encampment . So he’d probably stick around, visiting with his packmates and the crossers, after which Dad and Mom were sure to insist they stay for a meal.

Argent allowed Jarrah to wave goodbye before clearing his throat.

Guessing it wasn’t yet his turn, Joe moved to his usual seat among Biddie’s roots.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” inquired the fox.

To Joe’s surprise, Jarrah piled up onto Argent’s lap and hugged him hard. “Missed you!”

“No small wonder.” Several white-tipped silver tails fanned into existence, swathing the boy in fur. “Well? Is this journey with your brothers everything you hoped for?”

Leaning way back, Jarrah took a chiding tone. “You didn’t tell me there would be squirrels!”

“No? It must have slipped my mind. How are you getting on with the Woodacres?”

“Good. Real good.” And in a conspiratorial tone, “Kith are cuddlers.”

“I have little doubt. Did Kip make an impression, then?”

The boy nodded, shook his head, then craned round to locate Joe. “Him. He loves me.”

Argent blinked. “Is that the situation?”

Joe wasn’t sure it was really his turn to speak, but he nodded.

“He loves me so much. Can I stay with him? It would make him happy, and when he’s happy, the farm is happy. And I like it.” He patted Argent’s shoulder urgently. “I want to be a farmer.”

“An interesting development.”

“We can be a family. Me and Mister Joe and Kip.”

“Mmm.” Argent said, “You know that Lady and I love you.”

Jarrah nodded.

“You are a son of Stately House.”

“Usually, you say I’m a rascal.”

“I believe hellion is the more frequent endearment.”

“Uncle Jackie means it nicely .”

“That is what endearment means.” Argent pointed out, “I would hardly criticize you for making mischief. You and I are both tricksters.”

Jarrah’s tail gave a triple twitch.

Argent singled out Joe then. “So our little hellion managed to charm a beacon? Are you perhaps susceptible to squirrels?”

“Umm … maybe so.”

“You are not certain?”

“I’m sure. Do we need your permission?”

“You do.” And returning his attention to Jarrah, Argent said, “This man wants to become your father.”

“My dad ,” the boy gravely corrected.

“Whatever shall I do without you …?” The tone was leading, but it wasn’t really a question.

It was their answer.