Skip to main content

Strange One



An unsteady little fox kit blinked, opening her eyes she wobbled after her siblings. Taking her first steps outside the den, watching the others do the same. Their brown-black eyes gleamed in the light.

Most of the other fox kits were playing, a tangled mess of dark brown fur and legs as they tumbled, chasing each other around mossy rocks and through short green grass. Some of the older foxes were lounging, gathered around a small circle of rocks. The fox kit stumbled over, her legs still not quite used to the rough ground. The circle smelled fresh, soaked in the scent of damp earth; something clear and silvery-blue filled the hole in the ground. She leaned towards it, trying to get a better look, paws scrambling for purchase on the smooth slippery stones. With no success, her paws slipped, sending her tumbling down into the pool of clear liquid. It was only water. But she didn't know that then. She landed with a splash, the liquid soaking her coat and making her shiver. She had been dry and warm, smelling of earth. Now she was wet, cold and had almost no scent.

The adult foxes laughed, though not meanly. There was nothing more than amusement glinting in their warm, dark eyes. One bent over the pool and gently picked her up, lifting her out of the cold, wet, clear liquid.

"Be careful, little strange one, your life won't be easy." She warned.

"Easy?" laughed another one, barely able to talk, as it was howling so hard with laughter "Easy? She won't survive summer. All the prey will flee in terror, if they don't die of laughter. She won't survive; not on her own. White coat and all, she'll starve for sure if she has to hunt for herself."

The fox kit stared into the pool, wondering what the laughing fox meant. Then staring at her reflection in the clear liquid she understood. Unlike the other foxes, whose coats were dark brown and their eyes dark, her eyes were a clear, brilliant blue-white. Her fur was fluffy and white. Well. It would have been fluffy if it wasn't dripping.

She studied herself for a moment, then decided, the choice was up to her. She was determined.

I will survive.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Spoiler-Free Book Review - The Squire's Tales (Gerald Morris)

Okay, so it's technically an entire series, but that's irrelevant. I am reviewing books and it is therefore a book review.  The Squire's Tales , by Gerald Morris, is a series of novels that retell in hilarious fashion the lesser known tales of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Don't worry, you won't have to hear about the sword in the stone again or anything at all about Arthur's childhood. Because this is where the best part comes in: these stories are told from the perspectives of those that other renditions tend to gloss over, mock or forget entirely. These characters are a squire, (as the title would imply) a page, three women and a knight who is objectively terrible at being a knight. He sings and plays music instead. His name's Dinadan. He's wonderful. Over the ten books in the series, you get seven different characters from whose points of view the stories are told (plus a couple extra in the last book, but that's a spec...

How to grow a pinboard

A pinboard is like a loving thing, so treat it with care. Find it a good place, not too dark but not in direct sunlight, as its foliage may fade. Make sure you keep a good store of pins nearby in case you need to feed it quickly. With the pins, keep scraps of paper, sticky notes or blank notecards. Feed it regularly, so it doesn't get a tatty coat. Regularly prune as well, since old pieces of paper no longer serving any purpose can get in the way and make it look shabby. Ensure you are feeding it a well balanced diet of different colors, sizes and shapes of paper, and occasionally add supplements such as leaves, postcards and bits of string. This way you will see your pinboard bloom all seasons. A pinboard can become a lifelong friend if treated correctly. Make sure you feed it enough, but not too much. An important point to note is the content of the notes you are giving it. Single words are acceptable as long as they are clear, so you know exactly what you were thinking whe...

Ostrich short story

She holds her elegant neck high above the masses which she saunters through. Like a diva at a show she flaunts her plumes, casts a wary eye about for rivals, and turns up her nose at her drab brown and cream comrades.  Behold, an animal of distinction and refinement. Here is the ostrich, queen of the winged kingdom. Around her, antelope bow their heads in shame, cringing at their inferiority. Where she steps the grass seems to wither in embarrassment. Even the sun seems reluctant to disgrace her chestnut and ivory feathers. Stop. Look around. Sour musk lines the brisk breeze. She lowers the foot which was held aloft a moment ago, her previously serene expression now one of incandescent disapproval. The antelope prick up their ears. A glimpse of golden pelt in the grass and an explosion of hooves signifies the beginning of the chase. She runs like a demon, head pointed forward and wings outstretched. Long legs kick up turf, spraying it into the streak of gold fur b...