The Fox

Chapter one

Listen to the music as you read...

"You're worthless, stupid and not important to me get out! GO!" He screamed pointing to the door. I walked into the the night letting it's shadows swallow me, I didn't cry, I don't cry any more, now it doesn't sting as much. It was too dark to see where I was going but I had gone there so many times I didn't need to see. I guided myself down the path with my toes. Until I came to a tree surrounded by never trimmed grass. Climbing into the towering meadow I came to a cave of branches made by a cherry tree. I let it's thin branches cradle me in it's darkness. I lay staring at nothing in particular, feeling my eye's go crazy to find something to focus on in the ebony black.

I didn't think of his yelling, it happened all the time, it was just routine, he yelled, and I slept outside. It had been like that ever since he started drinking; since my mother died. I had never thought of him as a father. He wasn't a father. I wrapped myself in the blanket I had brought out there a month ago and hid it in the crevice within the tree's bark; hidden because he'd take it if he knew. Just like every single one of my characteristics, every bit of myself. There was no moon tonight but I could still see objects from the stars glow if I gave my eye's enough time to absorb the light.

I felt the night air still damp with warmth from the summer day slowly caramelizing into a crisp night. I moved my hands around in the dark watching their shadows wave around in front of the star lit branches. Remembering when the cherry blossoms were blooming and the petals would fall on my face through the night and I made myself a pillow out of the tiny pink corolla. I wished they were still falling instead of the cherries that land during the night with "thuds"

I turned to my side and caught a speck of movement a few yards away. I got up to my knees and crawled gently and silently towards the beginning of the tall grass. Peeking through I saw the marmalade orange fur of a fox, I watched how he calculated his movement and he moved snake-like through the tall grass. He was not hunting, not following anything, just walking along moving through life. Perhaps he was going back to his den to feed his pups and relieve his mate of her long shift of taking care of their children. Maybe he hadn't any kits or a lovely vixen to go home to. Maybe he was just a disconsolate reynard weaving his way along a path, perhaps he too was looking for a proper home.

My knees grew tired and I fell forward putting my hands out to catch myself, rustling the grass on the way down. His feet stopped suddenly one foot half way through the air, he looked in my direction and our eyes met. Without fear in his eyes or surprise he looked at me and put his foot on the ground. He had already seen me before, already knew I was here, I would normally be asleep by now. Had he walked this path every night? Month after month, had he silently acknowledged my presence every night without my knowing? I looked deeper into his eyes, and as if he'd sensed my curiosity he tilted his head up and sniffed the air, and moved on, following his path.

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The next night after the usual drunken lecture of how much of a failure I am. I visited my tree again, this time I sat up till the same time of night as before hoping that the fox would also revisit. He came earlier this time walking a bit slower, I relaxed my body, glad he'd come. He seemed to be locating something, a mouse maybe? Finding what he'd been looking for, he stopped and sat down on his hind legs, his small agile fore legs out in front of him. He looked at the tree and looked through the branches waiting. I decided he might be looking for me, so I climbed to the edge of the tall grass again and we watched each other with curiosity. There was no tension between us, just a warm feeling. Then he walked away. This process repeated for a few weeks and each night the fox sat closer and closer to me. One night, he was a few feet away and I was able to see his magnificent features in finer detail. His brilliantly red ears were rimmed with black, and his small paws were black and grey, his chin looked as though he'd dipped it in milk, and eye's a piercing mahogany. I thought perhaps he was studying my features, perhaps he was judging my character.