Fox's Glade Conflict

A call rung out. The familiarity of it made Fredericks tail start to sway back and forth, almost as if it had a mind of its own. A little brown dot was approaching at a speed that he easily translated to enthusiasm, and the sight of her was almost enough to quell his worries. Almost. His face was weary, seemingly comfortable on the rock as he awaited the womans presence.

He wondered if she still wore the flower he picked for her. He hoped that she'd notice that he wore the necklace with pride--forever and always, until the flowers wilted and the hide became weathered, it would sit around his neck like a trophy.