Fox's Glade vulpes vulpes

She is watching it — a fox.

When the sky did not give her answers, she hoped the earth might. Her original intent had been to see what grew in the thick glade. Only to realize that the place seemed to be in use by other creatures.

She watched as the fox crawled off into an old log. Hesitantly she made a wide circle around it, peering intently into where it had disappeared. Would it emerge again? Did it mean to slumber now?

She found overgrown bushes to settle herself into. Watching, waiting.

Hope you don't mind meeee <3

A gilded shadow at her sister's back, Foxglove settled beside Petal in silence. The scent of a fox hung thick in the air, answering any questions she might have had. Her own namesake — though Foxglove had never thought she looked much like a fox at all. No more than she looked like the flower.

Still, she joined Petal's endeavor readily. Her own gaze followed her sister's, fixing intently on the spot as if the fox might appear at any moment.

never <3

Foxglove was there. The light humor of it dawned on her with a warm smile. She made to draw near her sister, close enough for whispers to not disturb the peace around them.

I am hoping to learn from it, She whispered softly. Would her sister find it silly? Useless? To see how it lives.

Her cheeks felt warm beneath pale furs.

Fox nodded, eyes still on the place where the little red creature had disappeared. After a moment, her gaze turned back to her sister, and she whispered: They live on their own, don't they?

Maybe we could learn how, too.

Then her eyes turned back to the hollow old log, resolute. Foxglove still had not fully accepted their reality. Kvarsheim; she didn't even like the feel of the name in her mouth. She missed Mama and Dusty Rose — but they were gone, so why not live as a real fox did? Why should they listen to Mama when she had left them?

i think so, she didn't really know. she had not watched long enough. she was not even old enough to have seen the life cycle of one.

yet all she could think of was how nice it might be to be a fox. or a coyote. or anything that wasn't her.

i'd like that. she confessed softly and thought she saw a glimmer of ginger. the thing had begun to emerge with a fat grub between narrow jaws. the log had clearly not been for housing but had been for hunting. think you'd want to eat wiggly worms and grubs? her voice was warm and playful, reaching to bump foxglove.

she knew it would not be so terrible, truthfully.

Foxglove briefly wrinkled her nose in disgust, but said nothing to Petal's question. Her thoughts were flitting elsewhere, as they often did. The fox had not yet made its appearance; her interest in it was waning.

I don't wanna stay in Kvarsheim just because Mama said to, She murmured resentfully. Her gaze still had not returned to her sister. But - but what if she comes back and we're not here?

petal suddenly wished there was something fatty between her teeth. not for hunger but for a way to stop her words from coming.

we don't have to stay — too fast. too quick. but where petal might have loved dahlia for her picture perfect ways, she loved foxglove for her blunt and strong ways. they were both the things that petal struggled to be.

we'll just tell sven— she does not mean to sound insensitive. but kvarsheim is so far from them and their own ways. she still did not understand how her mother fit into it all. that we're headed somewhere. then he can tell her.

to her it is no different than telling dusty rose to tell their mother that they were going to play off deeper in the valley. suddenly she feels sick. uncertain if she is longing for those days to come back or to be far from them.

anything you want.

and the fox is emerging into view. like a radiant fire of new beginnings emerging from the dark.