Wind blows through my white ruff, fluffing it up. I turn my nose up into the wind. It smells like autumn, decaying leaves, and dirt. The trees reach their spindly fingers up to the blue sky, and leaves dance through the air around me like fire. I am not far from my den, so I fear no threat. I roll onto my back and bat at a leaf.
I’m much too old for the games of pups. I think to myself. So I get up and pad back to my den. The entrance is nestled in between the roots of a birch tree. It goes deep into the earth. It smells faintly of badgers, who it belonged to some time ago. I run along a side tunnel to a small cave full of food. I pick out a mouse and carry it up to the entrance to eat. I pick the flesh off the bones and swat the carcass away with a paw. I lie out in the sun to nap, but I am awoken abruptly by a rumbling noise in the distance. I sniff the air, and it smells sour.
I head toward the noise to see what it is. I walk along the creek until the noise is deafening. A tree slams to the ground next to me, barely missing my tail. I feel the vibrations of other trees falling through the ground and I am confused. I run back along the creek and stop to take a drink. I spit the water back out. It is sour, and it burns my mouth. I scream for the other foxes nearby. Scarlet and Maple run from the other edge of the creek. They taste the water too. We don’t know what is happening to our home but we know it is not safe.
We continue to alert the other animals in the area of the threat. The first frost comes the morning I finally decide to leave. I run through the remaining trees. They stop abruptly at a large black strip of ground. I walk onto the black ground and it is hard under my paws. Suddenly my ears are filled with noise and a metal beast rushes at me. I am frozen with fear. Everything goes black.