She Akin to I

Dew drops onto my nose from the bush which hangs over my den. Eyes fluttering open, I stretch my legs forward, claws extend and lightly graze the dirt beneath me. The birds sing and speak to one another, about the sun, the worms, and the fresh scent of rain. Another drop splashes onto my paw, and I shake it off lightly. Rising to arch my back, fur bristling, jaws extended in a yawn, my gaze turns up toward the sky.

Slipping away from the safety of the mouth of my burrow, I sink beneath branches, and wrap around shadows. My gaze darts between the trees, hunters were more hungry and desperate than ever, it seems. The forest was quiet, more often than not, with an occasional crack of thunder, preceded without lightning. Familiar bodies and sounds are no longer around, or lying very still, as if not to be found. Though clearly they were, and all we can do is continue to move, in hopes that we won’t be silenced too.

Finding safe harbor in a tree or a space in the ground, is hardly enough to reassure a small creature, such as myself. Don’t stand a chance, if I were to be seen. Though I may not have the meat they desire, I have something far more beautiful in that which keeps me warm.

Padding toward the river, tongue dry, stomach aching, I keep my nose on the breeze. Trotting down the slope, paws silent on the moss, the water gurgles and hums as it flows down the hill below me. Carving its way from the mountain to the bays, my small body drops down beside it, glancing all different ways. Sunlight peers through the canopy, dust floating and sparkling in the rays. I lower my head and let the icy current flow over my lips and teeth, swallowing slowly, painfully aware with each drop that it could be my last.

A small gasp sounds from across the river, a tiny figure kneeling at the bank. My bones lock in place as I feel the fear that finds my face, eyes wide as I stare at her pale hands. They cover her gaunt cheeks, which are turned down toward mine, fear reflected in her own tired gaze. She stares at me as I do the same for her, and we share a moment just like this. My back legs begin to move, as I lower myself to the ground, retreating to the shadows of a nearby fern. Her hand slowly leaves her face and reaches out toward me.

“Wait,” she whispers, eyes desperate and yellowing, but not hungry. I hesitate, a fatal mistake? She moves back and makes herself smaller, lying down on the ground. “I’m a friend, please don’t go. I haven’t seen another creature in days.”

Her words are foreign to my ears, but the way her voice trembles, it sounds like a pup calling for its mother; longing for the warmth and comfort that she brings. I lay down too, almost to reassure her, though I know that I should be fleeing back to my den. Or even farther still, since they know now that I am here, and she could have a hunter close behind her.

Something about those eyes, red and wide, filled me up with surprise. Sensing my apprehension, she tucks her legs to her chest, and buries her face in the moss. I could leave, the direction she wouldn’t see. My gaze falls down to her knees, they were bleeding and raw, I could smell them on the breeze. She whimpers and wipes her cheeks, which were dirty and glistening with beads. I crawl out from the shadows, and clack my teeth. She looks up at me hopefully from across the water, her eyes reflecting its likeness.

“Foxes are my favorite,” she reaches up to her neck, small fingers wrapping around a heart-shaped, silver locket. “My mother used to call me her little vixen, cunning and cute.” A smile stretched lightly across her lips but didn’t quite reach her eyes, as more beads, like water, fell to the floor. “I thought there were none left, yet, here you are…” She stares at me, eyes glistening, with something I can’t understand.

Quietly, we share space, the river never noticing us as it continues to flow where it always intended to go. Company was a luxury which few of us could enjoy, as the air fills with smog, and a deathly fog rolls into the hearts of the men who continue to leak into the woods. Our woods, our home, no longer alone, paying with blood and bones.

In this moment, hunter and hunted, share a silent understanding and appreciation. She sees me, and I see her, we both understand that we’re going. Moments here don’t guarantee moments there, and we’re both painfully aware. A fish breaks the surface of the water, and splashes as it disappears back under. She glances down, and though I long to stay, I quietly slip away. A few quick strides, I tuck myself away and hide, peering ‘round a tree to see where she lies.

As her gaze finds the spot where I was and am not, the vacancy reflects in her face. Red eyes once filled with elation and anticipation, ripples to a sullen gray. She continues to lay by the water, staring into it and at nothing at all. It pains me to leave her, but I’m reminded of my own mother, who lingered just a little too long. How I yearn for her coppery cheek to once again be pressed to mine. The morning after she left, I looked, but would never find. So for now, I should leave her, though I hope she finds her way. I hope she has a safe place to stay. Though with these men, in this world, danger will never be kept at bay.

And there will always be something left to say.