The Story of a Fox
Once upon a time, deep in the heart of a great forest, lived a fox. He was a normal fox, but he lived with wolves. Normal wolves, but they lived with a fox.
The wolves were older, bigger, and stronger than the fox, so they controlled what the fox did. Not directly, but they punished him for being himself.
If the fox tried to burrow in a hole, the wolves would crash the ceiling. If the fox tried to pounce a rabbit, the wolves would chase it off.
The fox wasn't good at wolf things though. The fox would try to work with the wolves to take down a deer or elk, but the fox wasn't fast enough, or strong enough.
The fox would try to hide his troubles, but the wolves noticed something was off. They got mad at the fox for being different, for being weird. The fox pointed out their failures, but they just beat on the fox.
Then one day, the fox found others like him. They burrowed in holes, chased rabbits, and ignored the deer, and were open about who they were and their emotions.
The fox preferred to be with his own kind, but he had to hide from the wolves that he was with them. That he was like them.
The fox made good friends in that group. They'd play, hunt rabbits, and do normal fox things. It was good to be with his own kind.
Then one day, the fox couldn't find the other foxes. They had all gone away, and the fox grew sad. He missed the other foxes, he missed his friends.
The wolves caught on, and they punished the fox for showing his emotions. They punished the fox for being different, and the fox couldn't take it anymore.
That night the fox left, decided to go find a new home.
He found a family of rabbits, but they turned him away because he'd killed their kind.
He tried to be with the dear, but they turned him away because they knew he lived with the wolves.
He tried to live with squirrels, but couldn't climb the tree.
He tried to live with beavers, but couldn't swim down the stream.
He tried to live with domesticated dogs, but they were worse than the wolves.
He tried to live with bears, but they tried to eat him.
He tried to live with badgers, but they were all hidden away in their homes.
All the while the fox tried to find the other foxes, but winter came, and he got cold.
He wandered through the snowy forest, shivering and frozen, but there wasn't anywhere for him to go.
All the birds had gone, and not a cheery sound was in the air.
All the beavers were sleeping, for no dams needed to be built for frozen rivers.
And all the foxes were still gone, gone far away from the fox.
The fox gave up, and tried to go back to the wolves, but he couldn't find them, either.
The trees were different than he remembered, having sharp points for leaves and gross bark for fruit.
The fox tried to find shelter, but the new trees didn't have big cavaties in their roots, and the branches were too high up for him to reach.
At some point the fox found shelter under something shiny. It was big, white, and radiating heat and warmth. Underneath, he was kept dry, and he tried to burrow into the ground, but it was too hard for him to do so.
He hadn't eaten in days, and he just slept underneath the shiny thing, afraid of whatever lurked in the dark, afraid of whatever lived inside, afraid of whatever would hurt him next.
In the morning he woke up on a cold, hard surface. It was slippery smooth, and there were a lot of bright lights.
Confused and in a daze, he slipped and fell off the surface and onto another creature. It didn't have any fur, and was something he'd never seen before.
It wasn't warm like other creatures. It was kind of cold, and had rubbery skin.
The thing didn't have paws either. It had massive claws, that moved and bent like joints and pivots. It grabbed the fox from a top it's head and held him in front of itself to look at it.
The fox was paralyzed, from both fear and the monster holding him by it's scruff.
The monster's eyes were big and something about it's mouth seemed happy and silly.
The fox could sense how young the creature was and tried to squirm away.
Once free, he skittered for shelter, but the creature could move everything the fox could hide in or under, until he hid under something tall and wooden.
The wood smelled weird and musky, and it confused and scared the fox. The entire ordeal scared the fox.
He was sure he was going to die, sure that these were the last breaths he would take.
And then something reached under the object. It grabbed him and picked him up. It set him on a squishy, warm thing, and gave him food and water. The food tasted weird, so did the water, but he didn't care.
Later he took a nap, and woke up with something around his neck. The object choked him a little, and a shiny thing dangled from it, rattling and making tinkling sounds.
It itched, and he scratched, and he yanked, and he pulled, but it wouldn't come off.
Then the young monster sat down next to him, and started scratching his head. Not like clawing and digging, but softly and gently, rubbing his fur in places he couldn't reach.
It was nice.
Then a bigger monster came over and made loud sounds at the younger one. The sounds felt threatening and scary, and reminded the fox of the wolves, and how everyone had gotten mad at the fox, and told him to be with his own kind, but the fox had lost his own kind, and had no where to go.
These sad thoughts made the fox wimper and cry. The monsters stopped being loud, and they tried to comfort the fox with food and water and more petting, but it didn't help.
The big one left the room, and the entire thing the fox was in came to life. It moved, roared, and vibrated. It scared the fox even more, and he fled for the nearest escape.
He slipped and fell out a window, hurting himself when he hit the hard ground, and then the machine started to move.
It moved away, and the fox was left in the cold.
He was shivering, hurt, sad, and heart broken that no one would love the fox.
The fox limped back into the forest, where the days were long and cold, and the nights were even longer and even colder.
As spring came, the fox found his way back into the old forest.
He found bunnies, but didn't try to chase them.
Beavers greeted him, but he ignored them.
A deer threatened to kick him away, but he didn't care.
He found the wolves, and when they tried to take him back, he didn't want to go back.
He didn't want to do anything.
He was too heart broken for anything.
He'd lost the only people who'd treated him fairly, and he'd given up hope on ever finding them again.
And then he did.
The foxes greeted him, and offered him shelter and warmth and food and water and wanted to play and hunt with him...
But he thought it wasn't true.
He thought it was the others making fun of him.
And he yelled at them.
He yelled about how he'd looked for the other foxes for a whole winter.
How he'd tried to find a new home, but no one would take him.
How he'd gotten lost and scared.
How he'd been taken by monsters, and they were the best thing that'd happened to him since the foxes had left.
How he still couldn't take off the thing around his neck.
How it still itched every time he moved and spoke.
How he hated himself for leaving the wolves.
How he hated the wolves for being mean.
How he hated the foxes for leaving him behind.
And then he left.
The other foxes were heart broken, and were ashamed for not telling him about hibernation.
The wolves were ashamed for not being nicer to the fox.
The other animals of the forest felt sympathy for the fox.
They all did.
They all felt sad for the poor fox.
But the fox didn't know.
He never looked up enough to see their faces.
He never was around them to hear their voices.
He never was hopeful enough to consider the possiblity.
He never was joyful enough to stop himself.
He never was alive enough to leave the bottom of the river...