“The Wolf and the Fox” | Flash Fiction Series
Once upon a time there was a forest full of dreamers, some more human than others. In this time, even the dreamers that were human often were not. The night brought with it the ability to shape shift, not into whatever passing fancy entertained their imagination but into their heart's truest desire.
This was a forest of angels, demons, and fairies. Monsters roamed here too, but blessedly there were few of those.
In a section of the forest with many steep cliffs and overhanging pine trees, a Black Wolf cub and a Golden Fox pup grew up entirely separate from one another the exception being once when they were little.
That brief meeting was more memorable for the Golden Fox pup than it was for the Black Wolf cub; the golden pup had never seen a wolf before much less a black wolf, but the Black Wolf cub who was already more territorial and more aggressive than his litter mates, had already seen his fair share of foxes and — coloring of this one aside — he didn't see why she should be any different.
One would have expected a fox pup to be more playful given the opportunity to be around another canine that was in truth the same size as her, but in this forest of dreams they instead stared at one another as though sizing each other up. The golden fox pup couldn't tell if the black wolf cub wanted to fight with her, and though he would never admit it the young fox’s staring unnerved him.
It was a memory that both would retain, if only because of the strangeness of the dream itself. Unlike others who entered the forest in their dreams, The Black Wolf and the Golden Fox would simply resume life in the forest as though they had always lived there.
And so it was, that in dreams they grew up. The Black Wolf became leader of his pack and their territory stretched out across the land, and the Golden Fox and her family rested at the top of the cliffs, the river edges, and the jagged rock bottoms of waterfalls.
In the nights that followed after the Black Wolf became the Alpha, the Golden Fox often heard him howling in the distance, and between the other members of his pack she was soon able to pinpoint his howl specifically out of the rest.
The Golden Fox also grew, and perhaps it was her own natural aggression or her protectiveness over her family, but she grew far larger than most foxes ever did, to the extent that run-ins with the females of the wolf pack grew more ferocious and unfriendly each time.
She supposed it would only be a matter of time before the Black Wolf and she saw each other again. She would never admit to it, but she enjoyed listening for his howl. Foxes didn't hunt the way wolves did, as though the prey were an enemy in battle. For better or worse they are more playful, and more secretive.
So, by the time he ever came down to the bottom of the cliffs or to a river's edge that she frequented, she would already be gone with only her scent and the stray fox hair hidden in the environment.
Still, the dreaming fox was taken by surprise when she was sitting at the top of her look out point one day waiting for a deer she'd been tracking to show up when he snarled at her from behind.
“Get back down the mountain with the rest of the pack,” the dreaming wolf growled loud enough to shake the birds from their nests.
The Golden Fox whipped her head around to look at the newest offender. And there he was; she hadn't seen him this close up since they were children. An inky black, well worn coat of fur, a menacing set of fangs newly dripping with blood, and strong legs — it was no wonder the wolves followed him.
Beautiful though she found him, he had scared off her prey and had the audacity not to recognize what she was. She growled back at him before standing up and said simply, “You lost me my prey, stupid wolf.”
The Golden Fox swished her long, elegant tail at him for good measure as though to hammer the point home that a better wolf would have recognized that she was a fox, and began walking away from him up a human trail just to piss him off.
There was a moment of silence when she thought he had turned away, and she had almost made the mistake of turning around to check, when he barked out a question that was little more than another order: “You're not a wolf too?”
The Golden Fox laughed and turned around to sit, wrapping her tail around herself. “I thought my tail gave it away actually,” she chuckled.
“I thought — ” the Black Wolf tried, “but I've never seen a fox your size before.”
“I like to eat,” the Golden Fox grinned playfully.
“I didn’t mean fat,” the Black Wolf defended himself.
“I know. I like to eat that too,” the Golden Fox chuckled, cocking her head to one side and narrowing her eyes at the wolf. “I'm more offended that you don't know who I am.”
“Who you — ” now it was the Black Wolf's turn to narrow his eyes at her and sit down.
“It was a long time ago, I'm sure you wouldn't remember a little golden fox pup like me?”
Another brief silence, and then the Black Wolf's dark eyes lit up in triumph. “You're that little thing?”
“Hey!” The Golden Fox growled half heartedly, “You were the exact same size.”
“I've never seen another Golden Fox before.”
“Mama says I'm special,” the Golden Fox replied.
Another beat of silence.
“Well I suppose I should leave — ”
“Wait!” the Black Wolf barked, unnecessarily aggressive. The Golden Fox who had once again picked herself up off of the floor and turned away, turned back again the barest hint of a warning flashing on her fangs.
The Black Wolf stamped down on the forest floor, seemingly irritated at himself, then tried again.
“You said I scared away your prey. Let me make it up to you.”
“I don't know if your she-wolves would like that,” the Golden Fox replied evenly, but softened her face in curiosity.
“We have — I have food. I could feed you,” the Black Wolf offered, a hint of nervousness betraying his youth.
The Golden Fox grinned impishly, and sauntered toward the wolf. “I do like to eat.”
