The day I met her -- oh, that day. I bungled everything. It would have been difficult to make a bigger mess of it than I made. How it could all work out from such a terrible beginning, I couldn't tell you. But somehow, almost by magic, it did.
We'd passed in the street a few times, nodding cautiously to each other. Michaela doesn't know it, but those chance greetings weren't chance at all.
We were letting the werefox know we knew about her. We were trying to let her know she was safe.
We'd had to arrange the greetings carefully. She was a cautious one, and she was good at disappearing if she saw us. We didn't want to surprise her. We didn't want to step out in front of her suddenly, or wait for her to round a corner. That would have been intimidating. Even I would have found a chance meeting like that intimidating. And so we had orchestrated carefully so we could pass casually in the street, nodding to each other and moving on.
"You're safe here, Little Fox," I wanted to tell her. But it was too soon. Her apprehension was clear from her body language, and the scent of fear wafted from her as we passed.
It killed me that someone so small and delicate, someone I was vowed to protect, was so in fear of me.
We would have arranged a proper meeting eventually, if the business with David hadn't rushed it.
I know Michaela has told at least the beginning of this story, but maybe she'll read these words and finally understand just how much I love her.