The Old Willis Place

stayed put, with Nero beside me.
    Through the trailer's open windows, I heard Lissa and her father debating where to put their things. I'd been inside and knew how small it was—two bedrooms, a tiny bathroom, a small kitchen, an eating area, and a living room. It was good they didn't have much furniture.
    After a while, Lissa's father took the dog inside. I heard Lissa showing him his new sleeping place. "Right here in Daddy's room," she said. "I wish you could sleep in my room, but it's not big enough."
    I waited a while, but when Lissa didn't come back outside, I slipped into the woods to find my brother. He'd gone to our hideout, an old shed almost covered by the wild grape, honeysuckle, and brambles growing around and over it.
    When he saw me, he frowned. "What do you want?"
    "I'm sorry I pinched you." I squatted beside him on the shed's dirt floor. "But you made me mad."
    Georgie rubbed his arm. "You hurt me. Your fingernails are sharp."
    I looked at my nails. Georgie was right. I'd let them grow long and sharp like claws. I flexed my fingers and made scratching motions like a cat. "Pfssst," I hissed at him.
    Georgie edged away as if he didn't quite trust me. "You won't really break the rules, will you?"
    "I'm sick to death of those stupid rules," I said. "Aren't you?
    Georgie shrugged and picked up a stick. I watched him practice writing his name in the dirt. "I don't want to get in trouble," he said. "I don't want to be punished. Things could be worse, you know."
    I sighed. It was hopeless to argue with Georgie. "But don't you miss friends and—"
    Georgie pressed his warm hand over my mouth. "We promised not to talk about those things."
    I pulled away from him. "But—"
    "We promised, Diana!" Georgie got to his feet and covered his ears with his hands. If I said one more word, he'd run off again.
    "All right," I said, "all right. Forget Lissa." Which of course I had no intention of doing.
    Georgie grinned in relief. "Let's go down to the creek and catch minnows. It's cool and shady there."
    I followed him across a field grown wild with milkweed and goldenrod. Purple-crowned thistles shot skyward. Bees droned around us, eager to get the last of the nectar before winter set in.
    We saw a vixen and her kits playing in a hollow near their den. They watched us pass without running for cover. We meant them no harm and they knew it.
    "You'd better be careful," Georgie called to the foxes. "A new caretaker has come. The last one set traps, remember?"
    "And the one before that had a shotgun," I added.
    The vixen pricked up her ears as if she intended to take heed of our warning. The kits tumbled about her feet, yelping and nipping at each other, too young to listen. What was danger? What were rules?They had no idea.
    We passed a family of rabbits grazing on clover; a groundhog; a deer and her fawn. We told them what we'd told the foxes. It was silly, I supposed, but it made us feel better. We knew how to spring traps and ruin a hunter's aim, but we had no idea if we'd need our skills this time. We hadn't learned the ways of the new caretaker. But we'd find out, the way we always did—by watching and following ... and waiting.

Chapter 2
    When it was almost dark, Georgie and I sneaked back to the trailer. No matter how risky it was, we couldn't stay away. This time it was the smell of food cooking that drew us to the edge of the woods.
    Lissa and her father were sitting at a sagging old picnic table that had been in the yard as long as the trailer. The wood was silver gray with age. Every caretaker who'd lived on the farm had carved his initials in the top. Georgie and I had carved ours more than once, using a jackknife we'd stolen from Mr. Wagner, one of the first caretakers. As Georgie had said, the old man could always get another one.
    While hamburgers sizzled on a grill, Lissa sliced tomatoes. MacDuff watched eagerly, hoping a burger would come his way. Barely containing his appetite, he inched forward, making a little squeaky crying sound.
    "Get back, MacDuff," Lissa's dad said.
    MacDuff cried a little harder but backed off.
    "Lie down, boy."
    MacDuff obeyed, but he never took his eyes off those burgers.
    Neither did Georgie.
    With watering mouths, we watched Lissa and her father eat their dinner. I was glad to see they gave MacDuff his very own burger. But I wished, oh, how I wished, they'd give Georgie and me one, too. It would be so lovely to sink our teeth into hot juicy food again.
    But the rules were the