The Heartwood 紫

Clover did not mind outings with her, and he often followed along with a sack fastened from a rough triangle of fresh animal hide. Too old and it became rigid, but for a few days, it remained pliable, enough for Clover to gather each of the three corners in his muzzle and carry what had been wrapped inside. 

He would let her place plants and leaves there, and then bring them along. 

A moment of respite, the fox let go of his prize, which landed with a thud and unfurled as if it was still alive. Slow, almost breathing. He licked his muzzle and yawned, jaws tight from clenching. 

Ears fell onto her, followed closely by eyes, ever-wide and observant. 

When she spoke now, usually, the fox could understand enough to make sense of anything said. He had never formally been taught what he knew of his other language—it also came from wolves who chose to shelter him. But no wolf of that pack would teach him. Very few even spoke at him. Not like Kaede. She was silent, but often broke her silence to teach. To let him understand. And he was grateful. 

He tried to remain stoic like her, to keep his emotions invisible to others, but a smoky grey tail behind him flicked eagerly, and a hint of a smile pulled at his black lips. Only for a moment, however, before he worked out a response. Thought visibly took his smile, and his tail no longer flicked from excitement, but concentration. 

”I… some words have learned. It will.. enough be.. soon.” 

Upon finishing, the smile returned, and the excited swishing of his tail. He was sure he’d said it wrong. The words were one thing, putting them together was another. And he was much less confident in the latter.