Feer

Autumn - Noon

Whilst the baker was interesting to watch until the end, the fox continues to walk around the square. Another small stall stands empty in the distance. But first the small soul checks onto a broad farmer, he is stocking a few crates with fresh vegetables. A grand pumpkin stands on a silly small table behind as decoration. A couple dirty ribbons are pinned on the cloth wall of the stall, rusted metal circles dangle in memory of past lives. The farmer takes out a handkerchief and starts to polish the grand vegetable with great care.

"Unimaginable dedication", she lets out, happy to see such a sight.

A stand over, a chubby man is stacking jars upon jars of golden yellow honey. As the fox approaches, the sweet aroma gets stronger and stronger. His big hands deftly stack the jars, he continues to decorate his table with bouquets of flowers and many small baubles. The jars sparkle in the sun, their label, while simple, seems handmade. A small jar, with an equally small spoon sits on a corner, the used spoon slowly drips the golden dew on the side of the table.

The fox takes care not to nudge or topple anything as she licks the table leg contently.
"Seems unchanged", she whispers to herself after making a smug expression.

Moving onward, an old lady, ladle in hand and determined, stirs a great cauldron on the cackling fire. Whilst at first sight she seems frail or weak, the illusion disappears as she lifts a big sack of sugar. With great care, she takes a knife and cuts one end of the sack. As the white sugar topples in the cauldron, she lets a victorious, yet muffled laugh.

The cauldron bubbles, she adds more fruits and a touch of cinnamon. Her stand is mostly empty, yet multiple boxes of jars sit patiently under the tablecloth. She stirs again then takes a bit of her creation for a taste. After inspecting the color and giving it time to cool off, she tastes the jam and lets another muffled laughter. Content she leaves the ladle on an unturned box as she takes a seat slowly on another.

With gracious steps the fox closes in on the next subject of investigation. She takes the same care to not nudge or topple any jars or boxes. Sticking her red tongue out, she licks the jam dripping from the underside of the ladle.
"I taste trees", she whispers shocked, "Not unpleasant", she continues. 
"Like it, dear?", the old lady laughs as she looks towards the little bandit
"You see me?", the fox responds, taking a couple steps back.
"If these glasses didn't fog up, yes.", she says wiping the thick lenses.
"So, do you like it, dear?", she asks again softer.
The fox nods yes as she takes another step back. "Sorry", she adds, not feeling as smug.
"No issues, just ask next time. Now... I have more work and so do you.", she responds kindly, gesturing for the fox to leave.

With swift movements she dunks the ladle in cold water and dries it off in her apron as the fox moves to the last stand in the line. Her eyes dart around the empty stand, so familiar yet so strange.