The covered wagon rattled and shook as it continued down the road.  Beside the horse strode a red-cloaked raven.  On the seat, holding the reins, sat Talbot, the fox-rabbit.

“That’s right dearie, hold them just lightly enough to keep the horse’s head knowing you’re still there.”

“But Mavis, I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You won’t if you’re gentle. He’s deaf, otherwise you could tell him what to do.  Ah, there’s a fork in the road.  Pull on the reins to make him stop.  That’s the ticket.  Well, now…”

“Well, now?”

Mavis, the raven, frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s been a while since I travelled this road, dearie, but I don’t remember this junction.  And something about the signpost doesn’t seem right, too.”

Talbot sat dumb, his nervousness returning with a rush.  He’d been so confident of the merchant, but now she seemed undecided. He jumped as a snorting noise erupted from the bushes on his right.

“Who’s there?” called the raven.  “What have you been doing with this signpost?