The Birds and the Fox

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The wind blew softly through the leaves of the woodland forest. Birds chirped in and out of the distance while the arctic foxes pranced in the snow. Besides the ambient noise, it was silent, only the faint sound of ice crystals hitting the natural environment trickled through the chilled air.

A home stood nearby. It's base laced with stone bricks and it's walls built of the strongest logs. An A-frame roof topped it off, a chimney roaring at its peak, smoke rising high above it and soon after, disappearing into the atmosphere. Faint sounds of a crackling fire could be heard from outside, it's warmth attracted the surrounding wildlife to the doorstep where a man bearing green and grey robes stood.

He sat in the door frame holding two loafs of warm bread, looking as if they'd just come out of the oven. Even though the door was wide open, he wasn't worried. Breaking off the first piece of crust he crushed it in his hand and let it fall onto the cold stone floor. Birds of all shapes and colors chirped happily as they filled their bellies for the first good time since winter began. Breaking off a few more pieces he dropped them for the porcelain white fox that approached soon there after. The man smiled as he watched the two species come in contact, hunter and prey meeting once more as the food chain suggests, but this time at a truce. The two kinds sat opposite of each other as they enjoyed the hand crafted ration from the kind man. The warmth of the fire overtaking the bitter cold that was the outside world.

Their silent feast had begun and soon enough the two loaves were almost gone. The man took in a deep breath of the cool air and closed his eyes. Pitter patter of bare feet on a wooden floor resonated behind him and he smiled. Laughter followed every step and creak of the baseboards. A thump came at his side followed by a pull on his robe to the right. Golden blond hair peaked out from underneath his grey tunic while a small boy in a yellow sweater used his tunic as a way to pull himself up after a fall.

The man laughed softly while turning around to help him up. "We really need to get you some glasses, huh."

The boy smiled and nodded whilst joining the other in his fathers lap. Watching as the animals payed no attention to their intrusion.

"Why aren't they fighting?" The boy asked, eyes getting watery from the cold.

"They don't always have to fight." He answered simply. "Sometimes they can live in harmony. Just like you and your brothers."

"Oh. I would be the fox then." His smile grew wider as he focused his attention on his blue eyed brother. His eyes wide as if he saw his next meal. "Tommy's the bird."

"No, Tommy is your brother." His father stated, voice brisk and to the point. "- and You and Techno have to protect him, no matter the costs." He paused. "Do you think the birds would be happy if their brother was separated from them?" The boy shook his head. "What about the fox?" Again his head shook. "Right. That's why they look out for each other and protect and provide for what they love, and if that means putting a hold on wars between foes then so be it."

Wilbur's cheeks went cold. The wind picking up from afar. He watched his younger brother stare back at him. Blue eyes sparkling in the white light of the chilled winter morning. His nose a bright pink against his porcelain skin. He was fragile and weak, just like any other child at the age of four, but more importantly, he was cold. Grabbing the side of his father's tunic-like cloak, Wilbur pulled it over his brother and wrapped him tightly. A giggle arose from Tommy as he tucked the cloak around him. It warmed Philza's heart to see his words had gotten through to him.

"Dad!" A voice yelled from an upper room within the house. The clank of boots rushing down the stairs soon followed. "Dad, what're you doin'? You said you'd take me huntin' today." The boy was taller than he looked old, glasses settled on the bridge of his nose and little ivory tusks poked out from his bottom set of teeth.

"Don't worry I didn't forget. But the animals needed to be fed too." His father broke up the last few pieces of bread and handed them to the boys who accompanied him. "Here, you guys do the rest."

The boy furrowed his brows as his father stood from the doorway, revealing the guests. "Those aren't even our animals!"

"Yes, they are. Any animals we find are ours. This whole forest is ours. This house, these tools-"

"-are ours. Okay, I get it." Techno responded tying his long pink hair back with a piece of twine. He watched as his father raised a brow and crossed his arms at his response. "I-I'm sorry. I'm just really excited."

Philza smiled and walked into his room to gather supplies. "We can leave as soon as you and Wil are done tending the chickens." He called.

The twin's gazes darted towards each other. Feeding the chickens was a rare chore given to them by their father, that's why they loved it. A smirk grew on Techno's face as he squinted his eyes down at his brother. Within seconds the two of them dashed out the back door and into the silo.

"Hey, wait f'me!" Tommy called standing to his feet and racing after them. Philza watched with a smile as his son's little legs carried him steadily out the door.

"Wil you get the hay, I'll get the seeds." Techno shouted as they burst through the barn doors.

A grunt sounded from Wilbur's chest. "No! You know I'm allergic. Plus, you made me get the hay last time. I had a runny nose for a week after that."

Techno made his way over to the sacs of seeds and began trying to lift one off the ground. "Oh shush. It's not like you leave the house anyway."

"What does leaving the house have to do with me being allergic to hay?" Wilbur approached his brother. Their features, a near mirror of each other, minus the few distinct differing factors. Techno was visibly half piglin while Wilbur only asserted human genes.

Techno paused in his struggle to lift the large bag of seeds and turned to him rolling his eyes. "You never leave the house Wil. You don't need to be healthy like me and Dad so it doesn't matter that you get sick. Just go get the hay so I can go huntin."

Wilbur's brows furrowed in anger. He was frustrated. "No! If you don't care about my health then why should I care about your stupid trip with Dad?"

Techno huffed under his breath and ignored him, still tugging on the bag of seeds with all his effort.

"I'll get tha-hay!" Tommy shouted running into the barn.

"No Tommy, you're too young to do this and who knows, maybe you're allergic too." Wilbur says leading him to a nearby hay bale to sit on. "Sit here and wait until we're done."

"Just get the hay Wilbur. It would make this go a lot faster. Then you can go do whatever it is you do all day inside." Techno shouted, his underbite becoming more predominant.

"You get the hay if you're in such a rush!" He replied stepping closer and placing a hand on the sack of seeds.

"Get your hands-off! This is m-y job." Techno mumbled grabbing his wrists and shoving him aside.

The two began fighting in the stacks of animal feed, dirt from the ground occasionally being kicked up between them. Tommy just sat happily and watched, picking straw out of the bundle of hay beneath him.

A whisper of a sound crept through the air behind him but he didn't care. His focus was on the stick figures he was going to make out of straw. Kicking his feet in delight he began twisting pieces of hay together. The whisper sounded again, even louder. A pattering noise followed soon thereafter. Tommy wasn't worried, his brothers were there.

"I hope you-don't come back from your-trip!" Wilbur shouted as he pushed Techno's chin away while he was being pinned to the ground.

"Really? Well, I hope you get sick and die from the hay!" Techno replied shoving fistfuls of straw into his brother's face.

The whisper grew louder into a screech while the patter sounded closer than ever. Yet, the feeling of threat never once washed over little Tommy as he crafted away. Though it should have. Behind him crawled a giant spider, jaws opening in preparation for its feast on human flesh. Its dark furry legs curling around the sides of the hay bale clawing itself in place. Fangs shot from its gums and--with a swoosh of wind and the sound of wings closing, a crossbow fired.

Things I Remember -SBI Family Dynamic-Where stories live. Discover now