Wil Deft — Richard Wolkomir

"Come," said the cat. "It is time." It shamed him, speaking with animals. "They summon you," she said. He guessed who those summoners must be. "No," he said. But imperial constables hunted him. He didn't know why. He fled upriver, terrified, into the great forest, where ancient spells lingered, his only guides this cold-eyed cat and a feckless dog. And with every decision, every act, he was changed. He'd never chosen this--they'd bred him for it. He must be a thief.