By Maya Bourne
The fox pranced through the field, bounding among the aromatic wildflowers and listening to the bees buzzing lazily above his head. The hill was grassy, covered with vibrant yellows and purples. A subtle slope led to a cliff overlooking the bay, causing a salty breeze to ripple across the tall grass. To the right, a line of tall trees separated the field from a dense and ominous forest. The fox’s ears flapped in the wind, fur rippling hypnopaedically back and forth in amber waves.
Suddenly, a quiet, almost imperceptible rustle arose from the trees to his right. His head whipped around, ears pinned back, body flush to the tamped grass. A weak cry sounded from the trees again, and the fox immediately recognized the tone of terror and defeat. He slowly crept forward, legs twitching to leap back, should a danger present itself. Carefully entering the tree line, the fox’s auburn eyes darted up and down from tree to tree, branch to branch, twig to stone. As he approached a small clearing, the cries grew louder and clearer, a desperate plea for help from some unseen soul. The fox’s powerful ears finally honed in on a small lump on a branch a few inches above his head. A small bird lay shuddering on the bark, head tucked into her wing, pitiful cries leaving its mouth every few seconds. The fox, growing increasingly concerned, leapt gracefully onto the branch with his powerful hanches and sat with the bird.
“What’s wrong, little bird?” the fox asked the bird in a soft, caring voice. In a tremulous voice, the bird replied with a short “I’m scared,” breaking out into quiet sobs yet again. The fox’s eyes softened, eyeing the bird’s minuscule silhouette and thinking hard.
“Why are you scared, friend?” the fox inquired, and the bird looked up for the first time from the safety of its wing.
“I’m alone,” replied the bird, eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. “My mother and siblings left, and they didn’t take me. They left me alone.” Eyes watering again, the bird closed her eyes. A determination overtook the fox, and he set his features.
“Well, you’re not alone anymore,” he said, and, scooping up the little bird, he leapt down from the tree and back into the shadowed clearing. The bird peeked out and quickly hid again as the fox started bounding out of the dark forest, clutching his new friend to his furred chest.
The two friends suddenly burst from the darkness of the forest into the bright vibrance of the hill. The sun dazzled their eyes, and the fox blinked rapidly as he pranced through the tall grasses towards the bottom of the hill.
“Alright my friend, you are going to go join your family now,” the fox said, determinedly. He spotted a flight of birds in the distance, a mother and her children circling lazily over the sparkling ocean. The fox took the bird out from her burrow in his chest and held her flat in his palm. She still shook but grew more confident at the sight of her new friend’s vigor.
“Well, alright, I suppose,” the bird replied, and she ruffled her feathers, shaking off her fear. The fox nodded, determined, and backed up from the edge of the cliff, a little ways up the hill. He stopped after a little bit and turned back around to face the blinding water.
“Are you ready, my friend?” the fox asked, and the bird nodded once, setting her face in sheer determination. He smiled and placed her on top of his head, giving her a nice perch. The fox took a breath and broke into a sprint down the hill, gathering speed as the wind whipped the grass back and forth. The bird spread her wings as far as they would go, picking up wind as they flew together down the hill. As they neared the edge, the fox shouted “go!” and the bird released his head, flapping her wings as hard as she could, rising steadily into the air to join her family. The fox stopped running as he neared the cliff face and watched his new friend fly off to her awaiting family in the sky. A small breeze swayed his fur back and forth, and a small butterfly caught his attention as he turned back to the wildflowers, bounding back towards the bees.