“I shouldn’t have made you leave. I should’ve stayed here, where Iphigenia wanted me.”
Curtis’s face became flushed with anger. “Yes! You should’ve! It is all your fault. I told you to stay. I explained to you what we were supposed to do. But you had to go, didn’t you?”
“You could’ve stayed behind,” responded Prue, suddenly rising to the boy’s provocation. “I didn’t, like, force you to come or anything.”
“But you didn’t give me much choice, did you?” He had pushed himself up from his leaning position and was standing squarely in front of her. “You. Everything’s always about you, isn’t it, Prue? Big Prue McKeel: always knows what’s up. Always in charge. You never give much a thought to what other people might think, do you?”
“That’s not true and you know it.”
“Pah!” laughed Curtis. “I’ve been living in your shadow ever since we walked into this place. You just go steamrolling through, ruining everything in your path.”
Tears leapt to Prue’s eyes at the accusation. Curtis did not relent. “And we’re all expected to bend over backward for you, just like that. Well, I had a family here, Prue. Friends. And now they’re gone. I abandoned them.” He was viciously slapping himself in the chest as he spoke. “Like you’d know what that meant. Where are your friends, Prue, huh? Do you have any anymore? Am I your only friend, Prue? Huh?” When she did not respond, he said, “No wonder.”
Stung, Prue looked up at Curtis through tear-wet eyes. “Like you should talk. The bandit band isn’t the first family you’ve abandoned,” she said, though she immediately regretted it.
Curtis stared at her, silent.
She realized she’d reached the point of no return. Speaking loudly: “What about your real family? Huh? Your sisters? Your mother and father? Ever think about them? Talk about only looking out for yourself.” Prue wiped her eyes free of tears as she spoke.
Curtis’s lower lip jutted out from his face. “You take that back,” he said, jabbing a finger at Prue. “You take that back!”
“Easy!” Septimus’s snout appeared from over the balustrade. “Isn’t there some rule about fighting with your own friends? Something in the bandit code?”
“Like you’d know, rat,” said a huffy Curtis, crossing his arms.
“There you go. Lashing out. I can take it.”
Curtis seemed chastened; he stood quietly. Prue watched him, her eyes ripe with the threat of more tears. The rat stood on a crenellation and stared dolefully out at the smoking remnants of the camp. He tapped at his teeth with an idle finger. “Awful,” he said. “No way fifteen Kitsunes could do this, let alone three.”
Prue looked to Curtis. “We have to move on.”
He remained silent. Septimus studied him. Prue repeated herself. “We have to find the makers, Curtis. The tree—”
“Oh, quiet about the tree,” Curtis flung. “My place is here. With the bandits.”
“The bandits are gone, Curtis.” She stepped forward to place her hand on his arm; the boy flinched.
“Just leave me alone,” he said.
That was when the voice came from across the gap. It was a woman’s voice.
“Children,” it said. “Don’t tussle.”
Prue and Curtis looked over to see a black fox, her fur wind-whipped and stained with blood, appear from the mouth of a cave. A second fox trailed after her, baring its yellow teeth.
Prue stumbled backward; Curtis reached for the sling at his belt.
“I couldn’t help but overhear, and I have to say there’s really no sense in bickering over trivial things.” The voice issuing from the muzzle of the fox was familiar to Prue—she remembered that same feminine timbre detailing the anatomy of a flower stamen. “Don’t waste your last breaths on who did what and who abandoned who.” A narrow gap separated Prue and Curtis from the two foxes, once traversed by a short rope bridge. The animals leapt it handily, landing at the base of the circular stairs that climbed the outside of the tower. Curtis notched a stone into his sling and began swinging it.
“Back off,” he said. “Don’t you dare come closer.” Septimus was at his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his epaulet.
Darla sneered. “Oh? What are you going to do? Throw a pebble at me?”
As the foxes rounded the first set of stairs, Curtis found a clear shot and let the stone fly; it hit the second fox in the side with a resounding thump. The animal leapt and whimpered, nearly losing his footing on the stairs.
“Nice one,” prompted Septimus.
“Don’t do that again, boy,” said Darla. Curtis pulled another stone from a pouch at his belt and slipped it into the sling’s cradle. He stepped forward to meet their attackers.