"A fox?" Robena asks, and reflexively she takes in each rider and each coat of arms a second time. All these, not for a boar or stag, but a fox? She is searching for the sign of the chalice, for the sign that these are penitent knights like her - for who else would chase such ignoble prey? 

But no, these are strong and noble figures wearing fresh cloth, with strong horses and handsome squires. Their faces are unbesotted by drink and while they are mirthful they are not flippant or flamboyant. Knights as true as any she has seen upon her travels. And they hunt a fox of all things! A creature with no meat, no antlers, no danger and no prestige. Practically an orange rat.

Once she might not have understood. Once her fingers did not ache from so many long hours reinforcing the fences around chicken coops. While she has not met a fox in the hunt she nevertheless feels like she understands on some level what μαλάκες they must be in order to merit such fortification. 

"No, I have not seen any foxes," she said. "If I should see it, should I slay it, or do you reserve the right of hunting here for yourselves?"