The Rabbit Who Hired a Wolf

How it begins

Hazelby hired the wolf because his paws were steady. That was the first thing the village failed to understand.

They expected teeth to matter. Teeth had very little to do with pastry. Rowan could roll twelve identical croissants without tearing the dough, pipe a rose with twenty-seven petals, and carry a tray through Hazelby's narrow kitchen without brushing the walls. Most rabbits could manage only two of those things.

On his first morning, he made pear tarts.

On his second, someone left a bag of garlic outside the bakery.

'For the smell?' Hazelby asked.

'For me, I think,' Rowan said.

He folded the bag neatly and put the garlic in the soup. At lunch, three customers asked for seconds. None asked who had cooked it.

By Friday, the queue reached the bridge. Hazelby allowed herself a small smile while counting the till. Then she found the letter beneath the flour order.

A celebrated food writer was coming. He wished to discuss the bakery's unusual staffing arrangement. He had underlined unusual twice.

Rowan read it while cooling a tray of almond biscuits. His ears lowered by the smallest amount.

'We can ask him to come after service,' Hazelby said.

'He isn't coming for biscuits.'

'Everyone is coming for biscuits. Some people just need longer to admit it.'

Outside, the village band began rehearsing for the spring fair. The drummer was a ferret. The trumpet player was a goose. Nobody wrote letters about either of them. Hazelby considered mentioning this, but Rowan had returned to his pastry and she knew the difference between comfort and being given another task.

Instead, she picked up a spoon. 'What would you like to make for the fair?'

He looked at the letter again. Then, slowly, he turned it facedown.

'Something difficult,' he said. 'And very beautiful.'