He led her onto the dancefloor, with the fox’s dainty hand cupped in the wolf’s paw.  They took their place among the rows of assembling guests.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!”  she hissed nervously.  Her palms were starting to sweat.

“Don’t worry,” he laughed.

Facing each other, he took her left hand and raised it just above shoulder height, so that their arms formed an upside down “V”.  Her right hand rested on his shoulder, while his circled around her waist and nestled against the small of her back.  The couples around them took the same position.

The owl tapped her glass and drew the attention of the ladies and gentlemen.  For a moment, the hall was silent and still.  Then the music began.

The fox felt herself being guided by an invisible force that knew exactly what she needed to do.  A force that could be resisted, but ought not to be.  Each step was perfection.  Every twist and turn was a thing of beauty.   Her back was straight, her chin was up.  A smile lit up her face.  Her eyes stayed on his.

She and the wolf glided amongst the patrons as though they had performed the dance a thousand times.  By the end of the song, the fox had become queen of the tango.

“Shall we try another one?” asked the wolf.

“Of course,” she said.

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