Lussy tugged at Mom's sleeve. "Can we go to the park?" she asked, already backing toward the stairs. She dashed up and threw open her closet door. Among folded winter coats, something gleamed she'd never noticed before.
She picked it up carefully. It was a brass compass with a cracked glass face, and on the back someone had painted a map in faded ink. The needle trembled — then steadied, pointing east, straight toward the backyard gate.
Lussy pocketed the compass and slipped outside. The needle wobbled as she walked, leading her past the blue mailbox, past Mr. Chen's gate, and straight past the sign that read PARK 0.2 MILES. She kept following anyway.
At Mr. Chen's gate, three geese argued over a crust of bread, honking loudly. Lussy whispered, "Not north, then," and stepped around them. Her boots crunched on gravel as the compass ticked softly in her pocket.
She followed the compass down the lane until the houses fell away and the trees grew thicker. The needle stopped spinning at the edge of the park and pointed straight ahead — at a wild thicket of rose bushes beyond the chain-link fence.
Lussy squeezed through a gap in the boards and pushed into the thorns. She came out the other side brushing stems from her hair, and there — between two ancient oaks — was a narrow path she had never seen before.
The path was lined with purple crocuses, their petals still open in the warm April sun. Lussy walked slowly, afraid to hurry, afraid the path might vanish if she moved too fast.
At the end of the path, an old wooden bench sat beneath a willow tree with trailing branches. On the bench rested a small wooden birdhouse, and carved into its side in curling letters was the name Lussy.
Lussy lifted the birdhouse lid. Inside, curled into a perfect circle, slept a fox kit with orange-gold fur and bright curious eyes. It let out a tiny sniff and blinked one eye open.
"You're mine," Lussy whispered, and the fox kit stretched its tiny paws and pressed its cold nose against her thumb. The compass in her pocket gave one last soft tick, as if it had found exactly where it belonged.
