One Red Fox

Chapter 1:

A Fox

Green is everywhere. So is brown. But among the green and brown, there is one color that stands out. Orange. Orange as bright as flames. The flame suddenly moves as fast as lightning, zipping through the leaves. What is this that moves so quick, so quiet, and so bright?

It is a fox.

Chapter 2:

Aren

I sneeze as the forest soil finds its way to my nose. Achoo! Bleh. But I do love the dirt. It can be warm, it can be cool. Nice and dry, or cold and moist. I love that. It is comforting against my paws, that strangely feel sore after awhile.

I give my fur a shake, just to make sure no more dirt is in it.

My fur is elegant, I guess you would say. A woodpecker once remarked at how vibrant it is.

My fur is orange red, like a flame. It has always been this lovely color. I'm proud of it, but I know there are many other foxes that have the same color fur coat. My paws and legs are pitch black, but my belly is snow white. The bottom half of my muzzle is also this snowy color. I have big curious orange eyes, which the woodpecker also commented on. Why, look at those big eyes! So bright and full of wonder. 

Yes, I think a lot. I like to lie under a large tree and pick something out of the scenery. Sometimes, it is as simple as a rock (Which actually gives me a whole lot to think about), and sometimes it is as complicated as the sky that hangs high over our heads. Why is it blue? Why not green, or red? How high do you have to go to touch it? Sometimes these questions really give me a workout, but I don't mind. I think of it as making me smarter, and sharp.

And my name. Aren. Arrren. It sounds like the word air. I like my name. It makes me think of floating and drifting things. Like clouds. I am glad that my mother decided to name Aren, because it's a really nice name.

My mother. I can feel my eyes swelling up with tears. I blink them away quickly, because I don't want to feel sad. I don't know my mother. Never remember her face, or my father's. The only time I remember my mother was the time when she had urged me into a cave, and talked about how nice of a place it would be to play. I played with a stick, and also gazed at the huge smooth walls for quite a while. It was when I started feeling hungry that I noticed she had disappeared. I cried and cried, but she never came. I starved that night. When I woke up the next day, a pile of blackberries lied in a corner of the gave. I never knew who had put it there. From then on, I taught myself to survive on my own in the wilderness.

I sighed.

"Crunch, crunch, snap!" I quickly dive behind a big log. My heart is pounding. I really hope it isn't an older fox. I don't want any trouble today. If they find a fox as young as I am, who knows what they'll do to me? Oh no, what if it's a member of the Black? It will sure be the end of me.

The Black is a group of foxes that take pleasure in torturing other foxes that are not part of their group. They have gruesome methods and it is downright horrible. The Black aren't located too far away, so a Black fox could no doubt be around here. Aren, stop it. You are scaring yourself to death! That's what happens when you think too much. But I can't help it!

"Crack!" Oh no! I force myself to take a peek from the end of the rotting log. What? No one is there. I try and stay cautious, because I know there has to be something there. Suddenly, a dark shadow appears, nearly right in front of me. I force myself to to look up and shock instantly hits me.

"What are you doing here?"