This is the story of the fox.
He woke to a strange, new world. There were blue skies and green grass, and green skies and red grass. There were birds in the trees, and flowers and clouds, and ruins and strangers, and many other sights that were never there before.
The fox crawled stealthily, as foxes do, through fallen limbs and dried up rivers. He waded through lakes where fields should have been. He slunk beneath the view of hungry, stone giants that once were the mountains he hunted in.
A robin came to the fox and pecked the back of his skull and shrieked, “Hey, you! Fox! The hell is this place? What’s going on here?” Her wings flapped. Her eyes inflated like a frog’s balloon.
The fox dropped one shoulder to the ground. His head curled here and there like a snake’s neck exploring the sky. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I recognize so much of this. I’ve slipped through that cave before. I’ve eaten in that brush. But when did all of the flowers on those bushes die? When did vines start hanging from the needled trees? I cannot figure out what to do in this place. Where am I supposed to belong?”
The robin shook her head and squawked until the rains and rabbits and sun had heard her. “I did not know,” she cried, “I did not know there were so many reasons to be afraid until you said that! Oh, no! Oh, death! Oh, peace is where for me? Where was the nest I was building last season? Where did my eggs go? Are there blue jays now? Is there something worse? Oh safety and home for me!” And the robin, high and fast above the blood red grass, flew away.
The fox slid on his belly when he had to. He was invisible in green grass. He was invisible in red. The clay that rubbed across his fur, once dusty or muddy, now loosed up rainbow shards of twinkling something-or-other. Weightless and sharp, painless and smooth. The glitter smelled clean and refreshing, but had no taste, and would betray the fox’s location were he not to wash his belly in the waters.
Some rivers still spilled. They tumbled just as before. Their cascades rolled this way, and their currents spun that way. But none of the fish could seem to figure out where any of it was going.
The fox looked into the window of the water. Hungry and perturbed, he could not close his jaws around such confused and useless faces as the fish begging pointlessly of one another which direction they should swim. Sometimes they yelled at each other. A good, “Hey now, you!” or a solid, “None of that, you hear!” No one, not the fox nor anyone nearby, heard any fish insult another. Likely they took issue with each others’ tone.
On the banks of the river there gathered a team of squirrels. Their hands, they had realized, possessed sapien characteristics. Their energy was high. Their wits were fast and reactive. From the husks of departed willows and abandoned scraps, the squirrels labored at a fortress. “Buddy!” one of them shouted at the fox as he stood from the water.
“Hey buddy! Hey, don’t you come over here causing trouble!”
The fox paused his steps. “Why would I do that?”
“Hey, we don’t care if you’re hungry, buddy!” another joined in. “We’re not getting eaten. We’re not squirrels anymore!”
“That’s right!” another shouted. “We’re beavers!”
“No!” barked the first squirrel. “We’re civil engineers with combat training!”
“Yea!” shouted another squirrel. “We’re half beaver, half ninja!”
“Yeah!”
“And half cassowary!”
“Yeah! Cassowaries, you jerk! We’re going places!”
The fox, ever mindful of himself, stepped slowly and casually backwards.
No one prepared their sleep cycles for the night. The old stars left the new alone, silent and ashamed of their inability to maintain order in the sky. Purple and green streaks barreled from the north and east, exploding like dandelion seeds. Blue and pink goo clouds warped from the southwest. Night hummed, not the hum of bugs and wind but of music. The chord was clear, changing occasionally, but always soft and present. Unable to sleep, the fox often craned his head and positioned his ears like satellites to locate the sound’s origin. Somewhere over the horizon was the most he could surmise, as hungry and confused he forced himself to slumber.
Dreams didn’t change much. They didn’t make any sense. They showed the fox the life he wanted, the life he used to have, the world as it had never been, the world as it almost was before, and some weird stuff he hadn’t ever thought about. That consistency relieved him, as sunrise kissed him like a drill.
The fox dug his paws into the dew and licked his teeth with purpose. Morning brought the smell of fire and the challenge of more undiscovered world. His tale wagged like a house-broken puppy.
At this time, a rabbit, who was wide awake with a seemingly strong start to his day, wandered by, standing tall on both hind legs. “Good morning, sir,” the rabbit greeted him. “Isn’t all of this odd?”
The fox nodded, looking up for the first time at a rabbit.
“I’m sorry that you won’t be able to chase and eat me,” the rabbit apologized. “I’m afraid I kick rather hard now, and you wouldn’t be able to stand up to it. I imagine you’re hungry, and I’m sure you would have looked forward to a meal.”
The fox stood up, merely with all four paws. He kicked away the sparkling sleep the ground had glued to his calves. “It’s alright,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll get over it,” and the fox meant that, as he also appreciated the apology though had no idea how to admit it.
“I think I could only feel sorry for you,” said the rabbit, “when I realized you could not hurt me.” There was a deep silence filled with light. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t have felt that way sooner.”
The fox nodded, “It’s alright. I do not know if I want to hunt anything in this new world.”
The rabbit smiled, “But is it a new world?”
“It’s new to me,” said the fox.
“Then come with me,” offered the rabbit, beckoning to his side, “and let’s find our place in it together.”
The grass was green, and the grass was red. The sun uttered magnetic tones. The wilds were altered. The creatures were strange. The fox and the rabbit explored it all together, and the world was new again the next morning.
© July 2018
The Favoring Wind 