The Fall and Maybe the Rebirth?

Chapter 3: The First Meeting

The First Meeting

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Crash

Bang

Screams

Fire

Shouting

Running

Painpainpainpainpain

Dontstopdontstopdontstopdontstop

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I shoot up, my breath coming out in pants.

I shake my head.

My breathing doesn't slow.

I close my eyes, in for five, out for five.

In for five, out for five.

In for five, out for five.

I continue this pattern until my breathing evens.

I'm awake now, might as well start my day.

After another deep breath, in and out, I get out of bed.

I spend a few minutes meditating on an empty space on the floor.

After the quick meditation session, I stand up, making my way towards my closet, pulling out a shirt near identical to the one I was currently wearing, just a different colour. I can no longer afford to keep up the once mandatory uniform of my family.

I change shirts, throwing the one I just took off into a basket in the corner of the room and deciding my pants will only get more dirty, so there's no real need to change them. I thread my belt through the belt loops on my pants, checking to make sure everything needed is there. I grab my cloak before unlocking the bedroom door.

As I walk by the map hung on my wall, I can't help but pause. I walk towards it.

The map is old, the edges fraying slightly, even the continents are no longer named as the map preaches. I look at what is labeled as "North America". I scoff, no noise comes out. Like it's anything more than battle grounds and reasons to fight, it's just land.

I roll my eyes inwardly at my own thoughts, walking away from the map. I make sure the oil lamp I had lightened the previous night is properly extinguished before climbing up the ladder.

As I climb out of the hatch all I can smell is the damp, wet air. It must've rained while I was asleep.

I look out the cracked and slightly boarded up window, it seems to be just after dawn. The Sun having just started its daily walk across the sky.

I pitter around the kitchen, knowing there's nothing to eat. It has just become a habit at this point.

I decide there's nothing useful to do inside and start to make my way outside.

While walking outside I place my cloak over my shoulders, tying up the front together. I lock the two different doors behind me.

As I walk I can't help but whistle silently, both hands tucked in my pant pockets.

Two main things on the list of things to do today, first forage to see if there's anything in the forest to eat, if I have time after that, soon I'll need to replant the gardens and if I'm extra lucky and have time after that I'll wash some things in the nearby creek.

I nod my head to myself, a plan for the day ahead clear in my head.

I purposefully make my way towards the forest that surrounds my home.

When searching the forest, I hear the sound of grass crunching and moving under something's weight.

Making sure I'm light and quiet on my feet, I hide behind a large willow tree. I know this forest like the back of my hand, if needed I can run and lose anybody hot on my trail.

I peek my head around the trunk of the tree.

There's a few local officials, people that took over the local area after the fall of the formal government. They're all walking on foot, two of them dragging a cart behind them. Looking closer at the mentioned cart, there appears to be some kind of cage. Curled against the side of the cage is a red fox, what appears to be the same red fox as last night.

The red fox is clearly terrified, ears pinned to their head, tail curled between their hind legs, eyes downcast, yet alert.

I have to think of some way to help the poor creature.

I silently grab a fallen twig off of the ground and throw it in the opposite direction, aiming for a tree.

The stick snaps in half and all of the men shoot their heads up, three of the five leaving to go investigate the noise, leaving the two men with the fox.

If they're so unbothered with leaving the two men alone, this could mean a few things, for one, these two are the strongest of the group or, the more likely option, they don't trust them.

That'll work just perfectly in my favour.

While the two men turn to each other, murmuring a quiet conversation I try to quietly grab the fox's attention. By some miracle I manage to get him to look up towards me. I make a hand motion meaning to come towards me.

Somehow the fox understood what I meant and, while watching the two of them closely, went to the door of the cage. They then proceeded to use their claws to pick the lock. Ever so quietly, they pushed the door open until they were able to silently run towards me.

Without any hesitation the fox climbs up my leg and snuggles across my shoulders. I pause for a split of a second, normally I don't favour touch of any kind, I decide not to think too hard on this peculiar decision of the fox.

I, as quietly as possible, climb up the willow tree's arms, perching myself atop. I situate myself so if I do wish, I can watch the men, but it's hard for them to see me through the foliage.

With so much as a sound, I grab a nut from a pouch on my belt where I was collecting food I foraged. I hover the nut in front of the fox's face. The fox takes the nut in its mouth. I also take the liberty of nibbling on a different nut.

The fox and I sit atop that tree until the men are long gone into the forest, having seemed to not notice the missing fox. Oh well. Their loss.

I climbed down the tree, planning on letting the poor creature go, only to notice that they soundly fell asleep. I sigh silently but don't wake them up.

I decide that's all I'll forage for today. As I make my way towards my home once again, I can't help but admire the fur of the small fox.

The way the orange-red, deep red and black all mix together, the way it gleamed in the Sun, I just wanted to run my hands through it. I stop myself, reminding myself of the rules and that, despite what their behavior shows, they are a wild animal that I shouldn't touch at all, let alone so freely.

I continue the walk through the forest, basking slightly in the now overhead sun. I wonder about the fox, why is it seeming to get caught by me so often? Why does it not seem to mind me? How old is the fox? How has the fall impacted their life?

I shake my head, questions that have no need to be answered, that I won't know the answer to.

Eventually making my way back to the main yard of the house, I forgo doing anything for the time being, deciding the fox is more important.

I walk towards the bungalow, unlocking the two sets of doors and waking indoors.

I walk towards the couch, above said couch hangs a floating shelf made out of the same wood as the table, multiple books of different colours stacked a top.

Deciding it would not be wise to use bring the fox into the bunker at the moment, I pick up one of the books off of the shelf and sit down on the old couch.

I crack open the hard cover of the random Buddhist text I had saved and chosen and start reading.

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