The fox emerged from the forest to the edge of a large field, examining the stumps for his stockpile. The area had changed somewhat in the weeks since his killing of the chickens; the leaves on the huge, overarching tree had gone from green to amber and started to drop around him. One leaf landed on his nose, causing a squeak of surprise before being brushed off.
He’d broken into the chicken’s den easily and the birds had panicked, cooped up in the pen and helpless against his jaws. This year there had been seven, the fox was certain, and the human had not heard their cries, so he was able to make several trips, storing the birds away for when he’d really need them. He had rarely been so lucky; once he’d barely managed three before the human had found out and gave pursuit. The human was old though, and the fox had escaped with no injuries. However, the human had vanished one day, and no other humans had taken the farm, so the fox had to hunt elsewhere. And thus he found the current pen of chickens and slaughtered them with ease. It was almost too easy.
Hunger gnawed at his belly as he scanned the autumn landscape for the buried chicken. Finally he caught the scent and made his way to the edge of the forest. As the sun rose he began to dig, claws removing the dirt separating him from his meal. When he was done he seized it in his jaws and pulled the body out of the ground, feeling a burst of satisfaction at the fruits of his labour. He and his mate would not go hungry tonight.
A dog barked.
The sound triggered a primal terror in the fox and he nearly dropped the chicken as a result. The bark was louder, deeper than the dogs the old farmer used to have. Those dogs were small and persistent but otherwise he had learned how to avoid them. These dogs were a different story, which the fox noticed as his head turned towards them. Tall and muscular with short pelts and huge jaws that as they barked caught the sun in their teeth. A human held the two of them back with a small leather leash, straining somewhat to keep them from springing. The giant dogs wanted the fox’s blood and their owner did not seem that eager to deny them. The fox tensed up, hackles raised and adrenaline starting to override his mind. Then, smiling slightly, the human let go of the leash.
The dogs charged, the chicken fell to the ground, and the fox ran.
The fox moved as fast as his shorter legs would allow. The rising sun cut beams of light into the trees as he darted into them. The dogs never stopped barking, and they were getting louder. The fox knew this part of the forest well though, and that gave him the hope that he could get away. He jumped over some branches and scooted under others, seldom breaking his pace. Soon the dogs entered the forest as well, their barks waking up all the animals that called it home. The fox wanted to find the nearest burrow and plunge into the darkness, but that wouldn’t work. His mother had once done that, and the dogs had simply dug until they could catch her. That and the dogs, despite their clumsiness, were still gaining rapidly. So the fox kept going deeper and deeper into the foliage to evade them.
He broke out from under a fern to be confronted with a huge wall of fallen bark, taller than he was. Summoning all his strength the fox jumped and his paws scrabbled onto the tree trunk, claws digging in out of desperation. He almost lost his grip, but just managed to hold on. The dogs barking intensified; they had seen their prey trip up, and the promise of a swift end reinvigorated them. The fox pulled himself up, spared a quick look back. The two dogs were not far behind, though they had to avoid obstacles the fox’s smaller size had spared him from. One had got tangled in a thorn bush and fell clumsily to the ground, paws kicking in a vain attempt to get back up, but the other had not faltered and was charging through the forest at him, kicking up dirt as he sprinted after the fox. The fox was now more determined than ever that they would not catch him. Jumping down the tree trunk, the chase began anew.
Bushes and brambles were thicker here, and the fox yelped as a thorn ripped into his side, but panic forced him to keep going. Then, in the corner of his eye, a whirl of motion and the fox instinctively jumped to his right. Unfortunately, this meant he slammed into a tree, winding him and sending him sprawling to the ground. Trying to regain his footing, the fox heard a loud snarl. Looking up, he froze as the dog stood in front of him, teeth bared and body tense. Its breath overwhelmed his nostrils as it stamped ever closer. There was no escape.
Then the whirl of motion again, and the dog howled. The fox saw a long shape spring towards it, before biting into the dog’s leg. A snake, the intricate pattern on its scaled indicating it was an adder, irritated by the disturbance to its peaceful rest. The dog, once so threatening, was terrified of the reptile, anxiously trying to get it off by spinning around in a circle. It moved to the side, and the fox saw his chance. He dashed past the two animals and continued his run through the forest, for a brief second believing he might escape. But then two more barks. The fox looked back at the trunk, saw the second dog leap onto it effortlessly. Its muzzle was bloodied from the thorns it had fallen amongst, a couple of which still embedded themselves in its nose. The small eyes were red with rage that it unleashed on the fox, jumping down and pursuing him even more ferociously than before. Once again, the fox ran.
He could not do this forever. He had almost crossed through the small wood now, and he knew what lay beyond that. A path, made by the humans. He normally went under to evade the monsters, beasts of metal whose eyes glowed at night. They guarded the cold path and would kill any creature stupid enough to stand against them. His father had learned that many moons ago, and his son had no desire to meet the same end. But as the undergrowth got lighter, steadily giving the dog the advantage, the fox decided he didn’t want to be eaten alive either. He pushed on, panting as the dog seemed to get faster and faster. It could sense he was tiring, could sense that soon its injuries from the thorns would be worth it.
The two animals broke out of the trees and into the open grass, the cold path in front of them. The fox had never been so terrified, but still he pushed on, even as the monsters patrolled the path. They came in many sizes and colours but if they hit him all had the potential to end his life. Yet they offered his last hope of escape. So he never slowed down, forcing down his fear and pushing himself for one final effort.
The dog, so close it snapped at his tail, realised what he was going to do and abruptly stopped as the fox ran onto the path. The ground here was cold and hard, nothing like the soft dirt he was used too. He slipped a couple of times as he scrabbled towards the other side, to freedom. But then a monster roared at him, a loud and sharp noise unlike anything else he’d ever heard. He turned around, saw the great grey beast charge for him, and for an instant he froze. The sight, the fear, paralysed him, and the fox went still. The beast kept coming, but then it did something no monster had ever done before; it showed mercy. Instead of charging straight for him, the grey creature moved its strange round feet and went to the other side of the path, avoiding him entirely. He could feel the wind slam against his fur as it passed, and for a moment the fox was in awe of the mysterious creature’s power. He almost thought he saw humans inside it, but that was impossible. Then it hit him; he was still alive. That thought filled him with joy as he regained the courage to keep going, until finally he touched soil once again. The fox yipped in happiness and relief, nearly collapsing from exhaustion.
The dog, barking furiously on the other side of the path, almost started to go across after him, but then its head whipped around to see more and more monsters approaching on both sides. It had missed its chance, and as the monsters came between them, the fox saw the great beast finally relent and turn around, bounding back to the forest. The fox panted, his limbs on fire as the shock and adrenaline finally wore off. The monsters whirled back and forth, but they never ventured off their path to attack him. He was safe.
When he caught his breath, the fox turned around, and decided to look around the field he found himself on before returning to his mate. He’d never hunt chickens again, but he was sure he’d left one around here somewhere…
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