Where Does The Wind Go?

"Where does the wind go?" the little fox asked Mother. The question had lingered on his mind like an obsession. The wind was almost always in his life. It was there when he ran with Sister in the plains, tussling and ruffling his fur. The wind was there when he hunted with his brother, leading them to the scent of prey. And it was there when he sat on the ridge with Father in the evenings, brushing the bugs out of his coat.

And aside from all those places, there was the den. In the den, no wind would blow, no rustling leaves or prey to smell. No grass rustling against the grapefruit-colored fur on his legs, and no wind to brush bugs out of his fur. The den was quiet, and the whole forest seemed to quiet when he went into the den.

In the plains, which were slightly south of the den, the little fox would run with Sister, playing tag and stretching in the grass. The plains were big, surrounded by birches, oaks, and the occasional spruce on all sides. The plains were in a big, circular hole. The hole had a smaller, shallow hole on the west side that would become a lively pond whenever it rained.

Then there was the area atop the small mountain above the den. A waterfall rushed over from just below the ledge where the little fox would sit with Father, talking about the boundaries of their land. The foxes belonged to the forest. The forest belonged to the foxes. Purely made of marble, the ledge looked over the thousands of paces of their land.

And then there was the den. The one place where the wind stopped. No, saying that it simply stopped was not true. Inside the den, it seemed as if the wind completely disappeared. But that wasn't right either, because the wind was already there when the morning came. These continuous, ongoing thoughts tired the little fox to a night of deep, deep sleep.

The little fox had a slightly orange coat that faded into a sand-colored yellow on his neck. His legs were orange with a gradience that faded to a grapefruit color. He had white paws, a white snout, and a black tip on his tail. The little fox was always obedient to his parents, and he loved running and the outside.

Then there was Sister. Sister was built with a weak jaw, but her legs were stronger than any bite. She loved to run with the little fox, even though he was slower and smaller than her. Sister had a vibrant orange coat that faded into black tips on her ears, tail, snout, and paws. Sister had white splotches around her left eye. She was fun to play with.

Brother was smaller than the little fox. Brother had an interestingly dark shade of maroon on his coat. It was a different color than the other foxes, but the little fox just thought it was one of the things that made Brother more unique. Brother's face, ears, tail, and paws were completely white. Brother loved adventure and hunting, and he had the best survival ethics.

Mother was the biggest fox of them all. She had the strongest jaw, being able to open it even through a muzzle. Mother had the thickest coat, which had such a weird auburn color that it was almost less noticeable than the black outline on her body. Mother was always encouraging the cubs to venture out past the forest one day. Mother is the one who always knows what to do.

Father was slightly smaller than Mother. With his gray-orange coat and white tail, he always made sure no unwanted animals infiltrated the land. His eyes were blue-gray like a wolf, but he was small, like a fox. Father sometimes seemed so concentrated that the little fox had questioned whether he was down to Earth or whether his body was just sitting on the ledge, thinking, while his spirit roamed the land.

Today, I didn't sleep in the den. I mean, my body was still in the den, obviously, but today I let my mind wander. In my head, I replayed the time when I first saw the overworld. It was a calm day, but for some reason, the cherished memory made me scared. I didn't know why. This hadn't happened before when I remembered the memory. Confused and creeped out by the experience, I went to sleep. I dreamt of the same memory, but for some reason, my eyes decided to focus on something in the shadows of the big spruce just outside of our den.