Relieved as he was to hear that the rodent wasn’t going to be a guest in his house much longer, Brannon did have some concerns about just letting him loose in the neighborhood. This was a respectable neighborhood, after all, and not one where vermin scuttling across the streets would be considered commonplace. The ferret may have been well-trained, but Brannon knew a few of their neighbors to have well-trained cats and kneazles, too, who may well decide to make a meal of the fellow. And imagine the scandal if he got into someone’s house, or harassed some passerby. Brannon wasn’t sure anyone would know that the thing was let loose from his house, particularly, but it wasn’t entirely outside of the realm of possibility that Arven would be seen depositing him on the stair and the whole neighborhood might soon be abuzz. Was it even legal to have imported the creature? Surely Arven wouldn’t have brought a smuggled animal to his home, Brannon thought, but he wasn’t entirely certain that the boy would have thought to check those particular regulations before he came home. In some ways he was a proper man, but in some others he was still a boy — entertained by all of the things that teenagers fancied, and easily distracted by the exotic.

“You aren’t afraid a cat will get him?” Brannon asked with mild worry; then, remembering what Arven had just explained about the rabbits, added with much more pressing concern, “Or that he’ll... I mean, does he hunt? I wouldn’t want one of the neighbor’s pets...”

To turn up dead, was what he didn’t say. Merlin, what a mess this had the potential to become for them!