Mute appeared in the front hall. He didn’t look over at us startled women. Instead, he calmly relocked the door and put his keys on the catch-all table beside the stairs. He watched his booted feet move across the wood floorboards as he crossed into the kitchen and came to a stop unerringly at my side. Only then did he look up at me and when he did a strange garbled groan emerged from his chest. “Foxy,” he said, dropping to his knees and taking the peas from my hand so he could look at the split flesh. “No.” “I’m okay, Mute,” I said softly. “Wasn’t there,” he grunted.
