Under The Arbor
Part One: Few Scars, Many Kits and Endless Prey
Fall Leaf puts her nose to the dirt and climbs the stones where she can overlook the clearing beyond it. The golden field had been cleared by a human noise maker, leaving the space open and empty. Calling her above anything else.
This is a lookout point she's climbed and even gone far outside of countless times before. Even venturing out regularly now when the humans living within sight across the field were far away. But the urge is different as the sun peeks through the trees this time. This time, no part of her felt the tug to return down the slope again, not as it had before. There is a part of her somewhere in her chest that tells her she won't be coming back this time, drawing her far away. Her pointed ears stand upright, and her tail waves excitedly behind her.
Like every fox did, as her mother explained so early in her life, she felt the calling. The burning drive to leave the den she was raised in and become her own hunter, den builder, and protector. A fox cub's parents fill those roles until the kits are old enough to do these things for themselves. Independence from their parent's food, shelter, and protection marks the beginning of a fox cub becoming a grown adult.
As a cub, it had terrified her.
"One day you won't need me, little leaf. You will do all I do for you on your own." The warm voice of mother whispered as she snuggled into her belly. Ignoring her brother's paws digging into her side to get closer to hide deeper into the vixen's fur.
"But what if I can't!" Fall Leaf had squeaked, curling closer to her mother.
"You will. I am sure." She laughs, licking her cheek,
With a tail wrapped tightly around them, her mother silently sends them into a deep sleep. With a full belly, warmth, and safety, Fall Leaf hadn't let her mind dwell on it long.
Now, all Fall Leaf wants to do is leap onto the other side of the ridge and go.
Confidence wells in her, remembering her mother's words. A season after that moment, deep in a den with her mother, Fall Leaf has provided her own food for what feels like forever. She's fought off crows and helped her mother build a new spring den. As the cold of autumn sets in, her whole body, from nose to tail tip, screams that she is ready.
There would be good hunting, Fall Leaf knew, beyond this field and several over. There, she has seen thick woods- not unlike the ones that sheltered them now. The crows, the kind ones who patiently waited for what her family left behind instead of rushing them for the leftovers, promised her so. It would be plenty to help her through the winter, she knows, which will set in once all the vibrant colors currently on the trees fall to the ground, and the last of the color dies and sleeps till spring, as her mother explained.
There was little to no fox scent there the last time she visited (because, of course she visited), nor that of wolves of any kind. While that didn't promise a lack of confrontation, it seemed a safe start. That place would be her goal.
Staying with her mother was always an option, and the vixen knows that well. But she didn't intend on helping her mother raise a litter of siblings, as safe an option as it would be. No, not when the chance was so wide open before her under the gleaming gold of the sun pushing through the trees as it rises.
The ground is slowly being warmed by the rays, but soon, the earth will begin to freeze overnight. Lightly, a coating of frost at first, then deeply, making everything ice before snow. The thought of trying to get her paws into frozen earth makes her have to shake off an extended look over the area around her mother's den.
Now. The time was now, or else she might never leave.
Looking back a last time into the shaded drop into the ravine where she grew up, Fall Leaf's dark-furred chest deflated, still. Sunrise is crouching at the bottom of the stones. The sunny orange ears of her littermate are pinned to his head, and he doesn't look up at her with his long muzzle close to his white paws. Undoubtedly, he knows where her mind is already, and if his tail tucking itself around his body is any indication, he is less than happy about what she is planning to do. It's nearly enough to break her resolve to move on today.
"Stay!" He cries out to her, lifting his face from the ground and taking a few steps to place a single foot on the first stone. For a moment, she thinks it is a shame for his bright orange coat to be sullied by the dirt.
Her ears pin, and her tail drops close to the ground at the sound.
"Come with me!" She screams excitedly at him. Playfully, she jumps down and intentionally nudges him before leaping back up. A failed attempt at convincing him with a bit of play. They aren't kits any longer, but Sunrise always loved wrestling.
Sunrise shrinks back into the den at it this time, and Fall Leaf stops and sighs sadly. Her brother isn't ready, not yet. It simply wasn't his time now. Despite knowing that that was a good thing, that it would make her smaller sibling more ready for what the both of them would be facing, a twinge came over her heart temporarily, and she slowly made her way down the stones again. Closing the distance and nuzzling his lighter fur. Would he be happier here, helping their parents with next season's litter? Would he leave this winter before that?
The first bit of grief comes over her, knowing she might never really find out.
"I love you, brother," She whimpers despite the sound coming out heavy, "I wish you the best life if we never cross paths again."
"I wish you the best life, too, Fall Leaf. With few scars, many kits, and endless prey," Sunrise whimpers back as he returns her affectionate nuzzle before they pull apart.
Turning though, she comes face to face with her mother's unmistakable white mask, looking down at her with gentle hazel eyes. Otherwise, she looks much like her sibling, a lighter color than her fiery red pelt. The steady gaze is the one that had watched her learn to walk, to pounce, to track. There is sadness in them, though. While she had grown more distant the last few turns of the moon and had visited them less and less, the love, even with her presence, wraps itself as tightly around her as her own pelt.
"Thank you," She squeaks. "I want to be as good to my kits as you were to me, Mother."
White Mask steps forward and nuzzles her shoulder before pulling away and nodding. "I have no doubt you will do that and more, my little one. That said, I came to be sure that you're ready. Are you ready, to feed yourself alone, to protect a terrority? Make a den?"
She is taken aback by that by the hesitancy in her voice. "You were the one who told me I could, even as a kit." She says firmly.
"And I stand by that. It's just that you may not understand how much you still have to learn." White Mask replies with the same unwavering tone she raised them with. "I only love you and worry, daughter."
"I can do this; I know it. No matter how much I still have to learn." Fall Leaf says back, unfazed and matching the immovable belief in her words that White Mask had used.
White Mask's eyes seem to grow proud when she steps away, making her heart feel full. Sunrise, while still not filled with zeal about seeing her go, still manages to be excited as they watch her take her first steps as a grown, free fox. They believed in her, and if Fall Leaf didn't believe in herself, that would be enough to fill her up with confidence in what she was doing in spite of anything. With a large deep breath, she turns. This time, she reminded herself to not look back.
Bursting with the energy loosed from finally taking the first steps, Fall Leaf climbs the stones for the truly last time like the wind rushes, fluidly jumping down over the other side. As she takes full strides through empty fields, the vixen is careful to avoid the sharp stubs left by the human monster claws when they cut these fields. A handful of birds take wing. Sunrise and their mother let out exuberant farewell calls to her from behind her. Which she returns for as long as the sound of their voice echoes.
Likely for the last time. No more stashes of food from her mother or sharing warmth with Sunrise. No more strolls in the territory with her father, whom she hadn't seen in days and days.
It makes her choke on her grief while she passes through one field, a second one, and then a third. Practically bouncing as she avoids the sharp, dry stubs left behind. The pangs melt away when her hazel eyes take in the tree line, lit up by the rising sun, and the sounds of life within make her ears lift towards it. Her whole body falls into the same pull without her consciously directing it.
