Moonstone Quarry Pretty rocks for a fox

Fortunately for her, his instincts were not concerned with foxes that were not in the immediate presence of his food or his home, the latter which he does not even have at the moment. So, he is happy to converse with her. "I am a foxwolf," he said, and there is obvious pride in his statement. Indeed, the boy was quite fond of his unique ancestry, of his family. "My family are all being foxwolves. All of us having the red coats, and all of us good rodent and rabbit hunters, just like the you!"

His tail was wagging, but it stops suddenly, and his carefree expression pinches as something dawns on him. "Wait just a minute!" He said. "WHY ARE YOU TALKING!?" He was incredulous, leaping back from her and eyeing her suspiciously. "You are an eatablething, eatables do not talk!!" In his family, the killing of a fox was a coming of age tradition, and never before had he shared with words with something he had personally killed and consumed.