Once or twice someone remembers this tale, mentions it during an idle chat or while passing by the remains of the burnt house on the hill. It has a history, this ruin – a very long history dating back to the time of colonization. Yet that is not the story that caught everyone’s attention. No, the story being propagated happened much later in newer times and many of the storytellers were actually present during its development. They’ve been there and seen what happened, thus everybody seems to have made their own version based on different opinions. But only one version should be remembered – the one that’s true and situated on actual persons that lived it. Only their thoughts and feelings are important because even today rumors affect their lives.
The town of
Farther away on the outskirt of town lay the previously mentioned debris. During the time being narrated the house was still intact. What a wonderful house it was: an old style wooden family building. Timber used to create it is professionally crafted, put together with all of ones knowledge and effort so as to provide grand protection from harsh winter winds and still look marvelous. The windows weren’t that old. Originals lost their integrity and had to be replaced, thus everyone with good eyesight can see how they jut from the rest of the building. Chimneys are also prominent as two out of three are badly damaged, missing stones from the edges. Only the main middle one is still in one piece. Moving round the house, if you were to stare long enough at one of the wings you may notice remains of cottages that served as a foundation. There were two of them, each belonging to a separate family dating back to when the settlers first set foot on these grounds. Over time the families united and this house was built. Years later Oak Leaf rose in the valley below, so if you compare the existence time of the town and this house it wasn’t long after Leaf’s creation when the ruins superseded the family building. It was only one night in the middle of January that it was burned down, a night just like the one when wheels of hatred were put into motion and rumors begun…
***
In the dusk the cold had loosened after yet another storm. It has been snowing heavily for the past four days and the townspeople were relieved that it has finally stopped. While everyone was shoveling in front of their houses making a practicable path, an old woman implicated in warm clothes was making her way up the hill towards Timberwood’s family house. Slowly yet steadily she pushed through the deep snow while carrying a basket. Every few meters she would pause to take breath and rest and then continue climbing like she had never stopped at all. The basked was relieving steam implying that something hot was being carried inside. “You won’t cool down on my watch” thought the old lady as she patted the covered basket. Raising her head she exerted herself making it seem as if she was moving faster although her speed hadn’t changed. Just as the sun set beyond the mountains in the horizon, she finally reached the top and made for the entrance. The funnel was smoking and light could be seen through the living-room window even though the power generator wasn’t on. Brightness was probably that of the hearth. As she stepped onto the porch she put the basket down and knocked on the door. Without a long wait the latch turned and a young man of about twenty-three wearing a gown appeared:
“Aunty Danny? What are you doing here?”
“Just brought you some homemade muffins, dear”
“Well come in, come in!” insisted the housekeeper and closed the door after she entered.
Once inside he took Danny’s woolen overalls and hung them up on the rack to dry. Then he escorted into the living-room where nice warm flames were dancing in the fireplace. While she made herself comfortable on the couch the housekeeper took a poker and begun flipping coals to make the fire even stronger.
“You know Aunty; you really shouldn’t be walking up this hill at your age. Especially during this time of year” he concerned.
“Oh fiddle sticks! It’ll take more then a few snow flakes to take me down”
“I know you’re a tough old bird, but please consider what I’m saying”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, dear. Now come and have some muffins” she smiled and uncovered the basket displaying crispy looking brown cakes.
The man didn’t argue and sat down on the armchair next to him. Patiently he waited while Danny took out some saucers from the shelf under the side table. She took two vessels, put a few cakes on each and then served them on the living-room table in from of them. Danny wasn’t really this man’s aunt. Truth is that most people call her ‘Aunty’ because she’s so beloved by everyone. Being the oldest person in Oak Leaf almost everybody likes her and enjoys her company. Same thing goes for her: she simply loves socializing and dislikes being left alone. And among all people in the whole town, this young fellow was her favorite. Aunty was always delighted to visit him and although he sometime says otherwise, he’s also very pleased when she comes.
“So how’s your new book coming along Matson?” asked Aunty as she took the small plate in her lap.
“It’s piecing together… Got a bit behind schedule when the power went off” answered the housekeeper after taking a bite out of the muffin “But I found my grandfather’s old typewriter yesterday so I should be back on track”
“That’s nice to hear” granny smiled “I’m almost done reading your last one and can’t wait to read the sequel. You’re the best writer ever”
“Oh Aunty… You’re probable the only person in the entire town who likes reading my fantasies. Besides, there are thousands of fiction writer much better then me”
“Well I don’t know any, so in my book that makes you number one” Danny laughed.
Just as Matson was preparing to take another bite, a gunshot was heard echoing through the forest. The man twitched and put the cake onto the table, then got up and paced to the window. He couldn’t see anything as it was already dark but he did hear some shouting far in the woods. Frowning he pulled the curtains over the glass and returned to his seat. Seeing Matson’s griming face Aunty Danny easily concluded what happened.
“Hunters?” she proffered while putting her saucer on the small table next to her basket.
“I just can’t understand, Aunty” lamented the boy while crossing one hand’s fingers with the others “I can swallow hunting for food and survival, but hunting for fun…? I just can’t understand it… how can someone make killing a sport?!”
“I know how you feel dear. People can sometimes do bad things and there’s just nothing you can do about it…” sympathized Danny and recline onto the couch’s back “Try and not torture yourself with it and enjoy the holidays as much as possible”
Just as she finished the sentence there was another shoot closer to the house. “Whoa! Bagged a big one!” yelled someone in the direction where it was heard from. Matson slowly slipped his head downwards ‘til he could touch his forehead and closed his eyes. As he listened to the hunter’s bragging and celebratory taunts his head hurt. Quickly he took out a tissue and wiped the tear from his eye before Aunty Danny could see it. Finally the atrocious laughs went away, probably to the saloon for a drink and to show off their catch.
“What a merry Christmas this’ll be with me hearing shots almost every evening…” appealed Matson and raised his eyebrows “And even worse, it’s not only these hunters. There are thousands of people like them all around the world”
“Well they can’t be all alike?”
“Their motive might be different, but they all do the same ploy. Some do it for money, other for the sheer joy of it – the trill of the hunt, as they call it” explained Matson hurting himself even further “And the most stressing part of it all is that sport hunting’s actually considered normal”
“We both know it’s bad, Matson” confirmed Danny “Personally I find killing an animal for anything else then food disgusting, but it’s just the way things are”
“But it shouldn’t be like that!”
“I know dear, I know. Just try and hold on. Perhaps things’ll change one day when we’re not around anymore. Until then, all one can do is hope”
Aunty Danny got up and hugged the sorrowed boy wishing him goodnight and went upstairs to the guest-room, leaving the housekeeper alone with the burning fireplace. He didn’t go with her as she already knew which room to use. This wasn’t the first time granny had to sleep over and the room she always uses was just the way she had left it. Every time she got held up at Timberwoods she would do the same: sleep, get up early in the morning and leave before anyone notices she’s gone. She changed into a spare night-gown and went to bed, signing off in minutes. Meanwhile, Matson was still sitting in the living-room – unhappy. Being an intellectual, a sensitive man and an artist at the same time, keeping it together wasn’t easy. As much as he tried to talk some sense into the local hunter guild, as well as other townsfolk, he was always stroke down. Nobody listened to reason, and even if someone did understand him they still wouldn’t provide support. This year the count of hunting activities ranged higher then ever before, which was more then enough a reason to be worried. Enclosing his feelings he lolled onto the couch and later on fell asleep, huddled as an infant – the only position that made him feel safe.
***
Before sunrise granny Danny was already awake. After changing cloths she quietly came downstairs and took her overalls. Matson was still sleeping in the living-room cuddled in that position of his, so she took her basket and sneaked outside. Gently she closed the door not letting them racket. It was indeed a sunny day outside, with neither wind nor clouds in sight. Throwing her scarf over the shoulder once more she picked up her basket and started walking downhill. Although there wasn’t any new snow during nighttime the one on the ground was still deep, making going down the hill as hard as it was climbing it. Luckily the footprints she made while coming where still there, so she used them to ease things up a bit. It was kind of fun – stepping in one’s own footprints – reminded the senior of her childhood and all the stuff she did back then. “Where have all those years gone…?” yearned granny as she looked around the white fields. Every one of those leas brought back memories of another time when little Danny didn’t have to worry about anything at all. What a harsh truth it is when a child grows up and understands that not everything’s pink and purple, especially when it thought so all the time. It must be saddening to lift the glass bell and see the cruel reality, understanding that there’s practically nothing you can do but try and embrace it as much as possible even though you dislike it.
It took her about forty-five minutes to get to the bottom of the hill and enter Oak Leaf. Many people were already up and continued shoveling the roads. Even children were up and having snow fights across the entire street. As granny walked beside them each and every one of the children would turn its head and greet good old Aunty. With a pleasant smile Danny showed that she appreciates it and continued walking along her route. But she didn’t go home right away – that was in fact the last thing on her mind. There was another person she wanted to visit before turning in for the day, so she made a stop at the saloon. Taking her gloves off, she pushed the creaky door open and came in. The building was almost empty with only a few drunks sleeping at the table. Those were usual customers and seeing them here wasn’t anything new. Aunty sometimes jokes around saying that they’ve made the saloon their new home and that the town can use their estates for rehousing. Anyhow, the drunks really weren’t why Danny came in here, so she easily paced to the counter. Once there she sat on one of the barstools and put her basket next to her. By the time she took her overalls off, a young girl of about twenty – twenty-one came through the backdoor.
“Aunty! What are you doing here so early in the morning?” she surprised.
“Oh just though I’d drop in and see how you’re doing”
The girl took a cup from the shelves above her and poured some coffee from the jug she just brought in. Granny thanked her and touched the hot drink with frosted hands while the woman filled her own tank. By leaning against the counter they both begun supping the coffee. After a few sips Danny warmed up and then uncovered her basket and took out a few leftover muffins.
“Sorry they’re not fresh, dear. It’s what’s left from my visit to Timerwoods last night” explained granny with an apologizing voice “I’ll bring you some fresh ones later today”
“You needn’t bother yourself, Aunty. These are just fine” smiled the girl before biting the cake. After gulping down the sweet treat she turned to the more interesting subject at hand: “You said you’ve been at Timberwoods? How’s Mat doing after the storm?”
While asking this question she lowered her eyes to avoid meeting Danny’s look. This was a rather obvious question and the answer was even plainer. Everyone knows that Timberwoods family house is built to withstand the worst blizzards and the storm that raged for the last few days surely didn’t make a dent. Yet it seemed like an appropriate start to this theme. Noticing that the girl begun to blush, Aunty Danny smiled and decided to answer without any further interrogation.
“Oh he’s just dandy. Got a bit worry after the shooting last night, but other than that Matson’s just fine” explained granny and took another sip of the coffee “You could visit him later if you want, once he’s up”
“That’s alright, Aunty. I’m sure he’ll be busy writing his new novel and I wouldn’t want to disturb him” the girl excused herself with an unsure voice as if she was making it as she goes, then switched the subject “So the hunters got him jumpy again?”
“Yes, it’s rather sad that every Christmas he has the same problem – being unable to enjoy the holidays ‘cause of them”
“I tried talking to them about it. That Jack’s a real blockhead!”
“I know Jess” granny agreed “Don’t waste your breath with trapper Jack. He never listens to anybody except himself. One would have a better chance of learning a dog to step dance then beating some sense into that thick skull”
Just as she was preparing to sip some more coffee the door opened. A huge man with a long beard and messy hair walked inside and made for the counter. He wore a gross leather jacket made entirely out of animal skin and some patched up pants with a knife case hanging off his belt. As he approached the two women, he took of the dead lynx he was carrying over his shoulder and threw it onto the floor. Then he sat on one of the stools and put his rough hands on the counter.
“Speak of the devil…” grimed Danny while Jessica went to the customer.
“What will it be this time, Jack?”
“Beer… big mug please” ordered the trapper while scratching his scalp.
“Coming right up” Jessica said while trying to sound as pleasant as possible and then she took off into the storage room behind her. All the barrels at the counter were emptied last night and now she had to pour from a new one. While the waitress was getting the drink, Jack turned towards granny. Noticing that she’s looking at the lynx on the floor he made some expression resembling a smile, showing his gap-toothed jaw:
“You like it Aunty? I could make you a beautiful winter coat if you want”
“No thank you, Jack. I shudder when wearing dead animals” declined Danny with a frown on her face “However… there is something you can do for me…”
“Just name it. If it involves skinning and needles, I’m your man”
“Good heavens, no!” she abutted hand on heart “Nothing like that”
“Then what is it, Aunty?” confused the huge man while holding his beard.
“Actually Jack… I was hoping to request that you and your pals don’t do anymore hunting for Christmas Eve?”
“Oh… you too, eh Aunty?” he turned to the counter “Like I already said to Jessica: the answer is ‘no’ ”
“But it’s Christmas, the time for joy and happiness!”
“Exactly. And hunting makes us happy”
“But so much death? How can taking another life be the only thing that exhilarate you?”
“Look granny: you’re sweet and all, but this subject’s beginning to get on my nerves” angered Jack while still trying to control his temper “Those are nothing else but dumb animals existing for the sole purpose of serving to peoples needs. I’m sick and tired of hearing nonsense about animals and humans being equal – that’s just a bunch of phooey”
“Perhaps we aren’t equals in brainpower, but they still share the same feelings as we do: sadness happiness, fear… They are equal to us by emotions, aren’t they?”
“Of course not! These things relay on nothing else but pure instinct! Equals by emotions? That’s the biggest piece of garbage I’ve ever heard”
“Well now…! If you’re not going to stop permanently will you at least pause until New Year, for Matson’s sake?”
“So that’s what this is all about, eh?” he realized.
“Please Jack…? You know how he feels about hunting. And frankly, this year you’re really overdoing it!”
“Don’t take me wrong, Aunty. I haven’t got anything personal against that writer, but I really don’t care about his delusions. He’s got his principles and I’ve got mine – and that is that! If he doesn’t like it he can always move out of town”
“You know as well as I that he’s not going to leave the family house”
“He doesn’t deserve it anyway! All his ancestors were grand trappers, but him…? He’s just a humiliation for the family name”
“Every one of us makes his own path, Jack”
“Yeah, well as long as his path will be that of a cowardly nonsense writer I’ve got nothing more to say about him or this subject!”
“Now just a darn minute Jack, he…”
“Good day to you, Aunty!” he interrupted.
As he finished the argument he jumped off the stool, picked up the dead lynx and walked away. Slamming the door open he exited with Danny watching him from her seat. Leaning her head against her palm she sighed. A moment afterwards Jessica entered the room carrying a mug of beer.
“Sorry you had to wait so long. It seems we’re fresh out of…” she begun explaining when she noticed the hunter missing “Where’d he go?”
“With a bit of luck, to drown in a river” answered granny while still being irritated.
“Oh… you asked him about pausing till next year” Jess concluded and put the mug onto the counter “And from the looks of it, I’d say it didn’t go very well?”
“Trust me child, that man’s heavier then lead…” said Aunty Danny and continued drinking her already cold coffee.
***
The crunchy smell of french-fries filled the kitchen as Matson prepared his meal. He slept through most of the day and this was kind of a lunch-supper combination. It happens – oversleeping so far into the day – and with inspiration for his writings being turned on-off in different intervals he could never predict when he’ll go to bed. The recent heightened number of shootings was getting to him, disarranging his sleep. If nightmares don’t wake him up then he’s usually woken by guns that can be heard randomly during night time. That and the perpetrators glorifying was more then enough to discompose an intellectuals sleeping rhythm. As the fries were entering their finishing stage the cook glanced at a kitchen clock. “
Timberwood’s library was shady as usual. It’s quite normal for the sunset to occur earlier during winter time, but this room was always darker then the rest of the house. It was a mistake while building it, putting the windows on such a location that so little light can enter. First thing the housekeeper did as he walked in was lit a fire. The chimney may be damaged but it’s still unclogged enough to be usable. As flames appeared within the heart the library brightened. Matson then threw himself into the armchair in front of the fireplace holding his bowl of crunchiness. Securing it from falling by laying it onto the side table, he picked up a typewriter from underneath and put it on his lap. Because the light was so weak Matson wiggled around a bit till he found a perfect illumination spot. He read the last paragraph he written as to remember what happened last and inserted a blank paper. Leaning his head backwards and closing his lids he relaxed and pictured the continuance of his story. Visions begun blinking before his eyes as fantasies took form. Soon the typewriter began palpitating, crafting distant worlds, sewing people’s destinies. In less then half an hour four pages were already finished and the fifth was started. “At this pace my book’ll be finished in no time” cheered Matson and crunched down another burnt french-fry. The joy, sadly, didn’t last long. Few minutes after clock struck seven the silence was broken by a gunshot, breaking Matson’s inspiration as well. “Darn bastards! Can’t a man enjoy himself for an hour without someone killing something next to his home?!” he raged. Another rifle was then heard, followed by few more booms as if the hunters were purposely spiting him.
That was the last straw. Matson couldn’t take it anymore, hearing guns all the time. Frustrated he stood up from his cosy armchair spilling the bowl of fries onto the floor in the process, and left the library. Making his way towards the front door he coated his old jacket and put his boots on, then left the building. He wasn’t sure what he’ll do once he faces them, yet he was determined to give them a piece of mind. Angrily he stepped through the snow heading to where the noise came from. Clouds were absent tonight so the pale moonlight lightened the snow making it easier to navigate the meadows. Like expected, the direction he was following soon led him to the edge of woodland. Being very determent he courageously continued forwards. Nothing’s going to stop him from finding those nuisances… or so he thought. Just as he was preparing to call out to the hunters and curse them, he noticed something situated in the snow not far from him. Curious, he stopped and tried to figure out what it was. With sight adapting to the night he was soon sure the lying thing was a person. Concerned, Matson quickened foreseeing the figure needs help. Getting closer the foreigner looked more and more differently which made the boy confused. Finally, being at a distance of just a few meters, the writer was rendered speechless. Namely the once thought a person wasn’t human at all! Lying in the snowy dent was an animal – or so it would seem at first. By carefully examining it one comes to the conclusion that this “thing” was some cross-breed between a vulpine and a man – correction: it was a girl! At this moment the lad wasn’t sure what to think, let alone do anything. In front of him was a character of fiction, an anthropomorphic vixen – something people make up for entertainment. Never before had he seen such a creature. Is he dreaming? Perhaps he fell asleep in the library while writing his story? No… he’s awake… she is real…
A question dangled on his mind. It’s not like man comes across situations like this often. Actually, he might be the first! What shall he do? Stay and watch? Go and report? Just leave, perhaps? That did seem like an obvious solution, but in a moment something caught the eye and changed his mind – blood… She was bleeding. And it wasn’t on one spot, either. There was a bullet wound above her shoulder and a couple more of them down the hips, dripping red liquid of life and slowly taking away hers as well. He took his gloves off and touched her. He was scared to find a weak pulse meaning she was barely alive… but for how long? Temperature would go subzero later tonight and she would surely die, if not from blood loss then from freezing to death. Without thinking it thoroughly, Matson decided for an action even he wasn’t sure of. Bending into the snow he wrapped the female into his jacket and picked her up. A strong shudder went down his spine once he felt the cold wind, helping him understand what she must’ve felt like. Holding the vixen in both hands he hurried towards home unsure what to do next…
***
Jessica was just about ready to turn in for the day. Taking into consideration that drunks usually don’t leave at all, it was rare for the saloon to close before
“Sorry to drop in so late Jessica…” he panted “Could you borrow me some bandages and a first aid manual…?”
“I think I got some in the back. Hold on” she answered and went to collect them.
The storage room was as dusty as always. There really wasn’t any point in cleaning it as the draft always brings fresh dust back in. Turning the light on Jessica made her way to the metal locker in the back of the room. She took off the padlock by entering her combination and opened the thin wing. Inside was her jacket hung onto a hook, some outdated magazines and different trinkets stashed for safe keeping. Not like there was anything of significant value. Jessica just felt better knowing her possessions were behind lock. Rearing on her toes she reached onto the highest shelf and pulled out her first aid kit. Then she bent and browsed through the magazines until finding a small book which wrote ‘Critical moments’. It was actually an extra that came with one of the medical magazines, yet it contained everything one needs to know about first aid – and perhaps even more? Securing her locker she left the storage and gave the items to Matson.
“There you go” she smiled while trying to hide her blushing cheeks “Are you hurt?”
“What? Oh, no I’m alright” he answered absentmindedly.
“Then what do you need them for?”
“Well I… I…I need them for… you know… stuff and…”Matson begun rambling as he fought to think of a logical explanation. In another situation this might have been easy.
“Research?” suggested the girl and giggled, thus saving the confused writer.
“Yeah! Research… of course!” he played along and added “I need it for my new book”
“Can I read it? Once it’s finished, that is?” Jess blushed even further.
“Are you coming down with something? Your face is all red” worried Matson.
“Ha? Oh! I’m fine. Been cleaning the snow in front of the saloon – the cold, you know?” she pretended, something she was very good at “So?”
“So what?”
“The book?”
“Oh, the book; I’ll give it to you as soon as it’s finished, alright?”
“Deal” Jessica agreed “Want give me a quick preface?”
“I’m really in a hurry, Jess. Some other time okay?”
“Come on? You can return to your writings later. Please?”
Suddenly there was a ring above the front door implying that someone has just come in. “Saved by the bell!” thought the fictionist, relieved that he won’t have to lie to the girl. Into the saloon came Jack and his three hunting buddies. One was Jacob, the hunters’ guild master. He was a rather quiet old geezer, nor talkative nor easy to understand. He had such a speech problem that he always stammered while trying to form sentences, thus he preferred keeping silent. The other was Jacob’s son, Bob. Bob wasn’t the brightest youngster around nor was he that good of a hunter, but if your truck needed fixing – Bob’s your man. He could get just about any broken down old bucket of bolts going… as long as it had wheels, that is. Also he was one of the town’s trucker, dropping off goods and bringing in supplies once a week. There was another thing about Bob, kind of a public secret. Everybody knew Bob had a crush on Jessica, yet he preferred people didn’t talk about it. It just made him nervous and jumpy when they do so. Grabbing his chance, Matson wished the girl goodnight and slipped between the hunters, rushing outside.
“Weirdo…” stated Jack as they watched Matson running and then closed the door “Hey Jess, be a doll and bring us some beer, will ya?”
Without objection the girl picked some mugs and went back to the storage room. She figured the sooner they finish their drinks the sooner they’ll leave. The trappers sat at their usual table, putting their equipment on the floor close to them. As Jessica served the beer and turned back to the counter, the three men had already begun their private conversation:
“I thellin’ ya, dath waz hhuman!” faltered Jacob.
“Nah, it couldn’t be. People don’t have tails!” explained Jack.
“You think he survived?” hoped Bob while landing his mug on the table after a long sip.
“If it was human, we’ll know in the morning. It’s not like this is that big a town”
“Trrue… but vath thhen?” feared the guild master.
“If it was a man, we keep quiet. Accidents happen, right? Besides, it’s not the first time something like this happened… You think others tell when they accidentally shoot someone? Of course not! That would be stupid!”
“So we keep quiet? For how long? Weeks? Month, perhaps? A year?!” worried Bob.
“I don’t know! Till the heats off!” angrily plotted the gap-tooth man “Now stop interrogating and drink your beer. No use crying over spilled milk”
***
Hearth’s flames gently danced into the night lightening Timberwood’s living-room. The humanlike vixen was still unconsciously lying on the couch with Matson sitting beside her. He spent half an hour reading the medical manual and felling prepared he opened the kit and took out a pair of scissors. Then he began cutting the fur around the bleeding areas. He had never performed first aid even on a human, let alone done something like this. Although he was sure about what he’s doing, his hand just wouldn’t stop shaking. By clearing the hair and allowing better access to the bullet wound his self-confidence tightened. It’s not like he could just take her into town and ask for help. To think what would happen! No, he had to pull through on his own – her life depended on it. Soaking another rag with blood he was finally able to begin the operation. About an hour pasted as Matson pulled out bullets from her body and bandaged the wounds. He had to cut the fur some more, but then again it was the same to her.
The boy’s greatest relieve was that she didn’t wake up till he was finished. Being hurt by humans, he can only predict what her reaction would be like. It didn’t take him long to find out, though. Just as he was cleaning blood off the scalpel the fox-girl woke up. Terrified by the shine of his metal blade she jumped into a crouching position and prowled to the very opposite end of the couch. Her pupils spread and she begun emitting sounds resembling yelping. Seeing that he had frightened her out of her skin, Matson quickly lowered the knife. “No no no… Don’t be afraid” he pleaded unsuccessfully. It was just no use. Although he had hidden the scalpel the vixen was too alarmed to sit still. She stopped yapping once the boy stepped backwards, letting a voice only when touching the bandaged areas. One could still see how her chest shivered from an uneasy heart. Gathering courage the housekeeper once again tried to approach her. Unfortunately, as soon as she noticed him moving towards her she began fidgeting again. “Please don’t be scared. I don’t mean you any harm” once more he informed with a soft voice. The female, however, still found the boy untrustworthy. “Very well, I won’t try it” finally Matson gave up. Then he closed the first aid kit, picked it up and siding with the wall left the room. He thought she needed some lone time to calm down. There really wasn’t any reason for him to stick around. He had left some food and water on the table if needed and the room was warm and cosy.
Matson returned to his writings, a moment which he had been waiting forever. Ants had already started collecting the spilled french-fries and carrying it through a small hole next to the fireplace. Lad’s mind was so preoccupied that he hardly noticed the tiny scavengers. Once again relaxed in his armchair the typewriter made noise. Sadly inspiration was lacking and every next word he written seemed wrong. “Ugh! That’s not right! Damn… can’t keep her out of my mind!” the fantasist suffered. He couldn’t take his mind of the mysterious vixen in next room. Where’d she come from? Or better yet: what is she?! An animal? Alien?! Some twisted experiment gone wrong…? Many different explanations circled Timberwood’s thoughts, more questions then answers. None of them seemed appropriate – each and every one lacking something, just arising more unexplainable questions. Conciliating that he’ll not write a single page this evening, Matson displaced his grandfather’s typewriter. “It’s pointless” he concluded and decided to go to bed.
While passing through the hall making for the stairway, he couldn’t resist taking a peek into the living-room. Quietly he opened the door and entered, then sneaked behind the couch: his guest had eaten the food left for her and was tight asleep. Her position reminded of Matson’s favourite, when one’s body is compressed like when babies sleep. An odd coincidence – both of them sharing that, but at the time it didn’t matter that much. She was frightened and probably felt safer this way. It’s an instinctual reaction. Even so she was in deep slumber, her body still shuddered. Was it from nightmares or from cold he couldn’t tell. In any case, on his toes he run upstairs and brought back a blue blanket and threw it over her – right over the shaved hips. To his surprise, once she felt the silky cover she grabbed it and completely enveloped herself. Moreover she lowered her ears so her muzzle and face became much more outstanding. For some unknown reason, Matson felt an urge to stay downstairs with his bedroom seeming somehow inadequate. He stationed himself in that armchair across the table and silently watched her sleep. An indescribable calm took over, and the longer he watched the heavier his eyelids became. Before he noticed it he was sleeping, joining the rest of town in dreamland.
***
As first light entered through the panes, something was amiss. The feel, the smell… warmth…? The fox wasn’t in the open anymore, that’s for sure. First thing she saw after opening her eyes was a snoring human. Thinking about it, he was recognized as the same one from last night. She got up into a sitting position, letting the soft material slide down her side and shook her head. Feeling the breeze between the ears helped affirm she’s alright. Pain, though, proved otherwise. Her right shoulder ached, as well as an entire area around her hips. A reflexive need made her touch and perceive the unfamiliar new stuff enveloping her body. The bandage got her worried at first, yet she quickly realized it was only keeping wounds from bleeding. It was still a bit irritating, especially with half of her fur shaved.
Although asleep, the human worried her. He was responsible for the food and water, including these curvatures, but his presence just made the vixen anxious. Was this ‘cause of prejudices? She was hurt by mankind’s boom sticks and it was humans that almost killed her… then again, this man did save her life… In any case, she decided to leave. If he intended to help her, departure is the next step anyway. If not and he was of bad intentions, then leaving his presence was definitely a right move. Surpassing the pain she stood up. Legs were shaky and unsure, but soon she had regained her balance. There was a mild scent of the outside, traces of fresh air coming from behind her. Going ‘round the couch she came to the door hurting with every step she made. It was a slide model so all she had to do was push it to the side to open her way out of the living-room. Tracing the cold air lead her through the hallway and into the library. Navigating the many bookcases she got to a window. It was only a bit opened to let the air circulate. Evidently being much more intelligent then humans might consider, she inserted her fingers beneath the frame and pulled the window wide open. A freezing wind soughed into the room, carrying in rime as well. If all her fur was intact the vixen would have probably jump out and in a split-second been running toward the woods. Unfortunately that proved not to be the case. With her body twitching in pain even this small altitude was more then she could handle. Beside that, the areas missing hair would have frozen as soon as night falls. A stressful situation, being prohibited to leave like that. Closing the frame to prevent further room cooling she sat down on the bench against the wall. Only then did she comprehend how hungry and weak she truly was. She had to face it: even if she could escape this house she wouldn’t last a day in those harsh conditions. She was literally on that human’s mercy! Whatever he wanted to do to her, there was nothing to stop him from doing it. Once again fear retracted into the vixen’s heart rendering that little hope she had obsolete. Scared of what awaits her in this man’s clutches, she let a mild moan of hopelessness while a tear slithered off her dirty but beautiful facial fur.
On the floor, right next to the place where the tear dissolved, was a book. Never before in her life had she saw a novel, thus curiosity soon overcame. She took this object she had so carelessly knocked over while attempting to escape and opened the first page. It’s still unexplainable how she understood what was inside, considering that she could neither speak nor write. As if she learned the whole language from the glossary at the start! Intrigued by this fantasy’s beginning she turned to the next page. With complete attention she scrolled through the text imagining whole new worlds, places beyond the reality we all live for. In this entire dark room, the only thing that shined was the fantasy she read. It turned shadows into caves of knowledge and the house into a sanctuary. She had forgotten her aches and pain, loosen tension during each page flip till it was completely gone.
Wakeup call wasn’t what Matson would have expected. For one thing: he was well rest! That’s usually not the case these last few months, but today he was feeling truly grand. He stretched in the now comfy armchair, yet even before he opened his eyes something bothered him. Only as he achieved vision did he notice his guest missing. Confused about her whereabouts he got up and scouted the living-room. It doesn’t take that much a genius to figure out she had left, with the opened door and all. Moving into the hallway a certain draft caused his neck to wince. Figuring it came from the library he leaned rightwards and easily stepped in that direction. Once there the lad stopped in surprise, finding himself eye to eye with the fox sitting beneath a slightly opened window. He couldn’t decide what fascinated him more: the fact that she’s up and roaming the house or the one where she’s sitting with an open book! She couldn’t have been reading, could she?! Somehow he managed to disarm both his surprise and curiosity and ask in a plain, everyday voice: “So… ahem… you hungry?”
Talk about a lame first sentence – if one can even call it that. For a writer knowing hundred of thousand word combinations, Matson begun the conversation rather poorly. He didn’t expect much of an answer, yet once again he was rendered speechless. Although scared of the now waken human, the vixen was indeed famished. She gently nodded, giving to mind that she needs food. If Matson thought he was surprised before, now he was really shocked! Again trying to hold backsensation he continued: “Well... mind joining me for breakfast then?” somehow he uttered. At first the girl hesitated, but hunger is a powerful tormenter – she decided there’s nothing to lose. Leaving the book on the bench she stood up and hurtfully begun halting to the door. Somewhere halfway there pain got the best of her, thus she lost balance and fell to her knees. Quickly yet unexpectedly, the housekeeper reacted and run to her aid. The kneeling female was startled by this gesture of caring. Perhaps she had misjudged this once terrifying man. Even he was confused as to why he acted so impulsively. Leaning against him she was once again able to stand upright, notwithstanding the throes. With him supporting her they walked to the kitchen, hence some trust being born after all.
***
Mail is very late. Three times a week the van would bring fresh supplies to the convenient store, and on Saturday mornings it would also bring any letters or bills that need to be paid. This time, however, delivery was delayed. Was this because of those blizzards or was it something else nobody knew, but in any case all hoped that there weren’t any accidents. That was the only van they had in the entire town and losing it would be a catastrophe. Like many abiders, old lady Danny waited in front of the store. It was almost
“Sorry Aunty, but the mail won’t be arriving for at least another hour or so” she explained though unsure of the precise time of arrival. Licking another full spoon of pudding she added: “Best you come back later”
“It’s alright, Betty” granny replied “I’ll wait”
“Well if that’s the case, at least come in for some pudding and tea”
“Think tea will suffice, thank you”
Indoors was rather empty with most shelves missing the labelled products. The pastry rack had just a few breadsticks left, and from the looks of them they were already stale. Milk products were also running low, as well as spices and sweets. Those who possessed livestock or poultry are lucky, not having to rely on the market so much like rest of town. But even they had to buy something sooner or later. Behind the electronic counter was a room of about 2x3 meters. This small kitchen consisted of an oven, a fridge, dinning table and two chairs – not like there was room for anything else. The women came in and position themselves at the table. The shopkeeper took a glass from a cupboard behind her and poured some hot tea from the pot in front.
“So are you expecting something in particular, Aunty?”
“Actually, I’ve been asked by Jessica to inspect her mailbox since she’s too busy to do so herself” Danny sipped the hot camomile tea “She pleaded to the
“How marvellous” Betty surprised “I really do hope they accept her. Miss Simpson’s a very talented young lady”
“You and I both, Bet” accede Danny and tasted her tea once more “What you think’s keeping Mr Brigs?”
“Oh you know my husband. He’s probably made a road stop and forgotten the time. The van could arrive any moment now” assumed the wife “Sugar?”
It was already half past one when a roaring engine was heard entering the town. Everyone, especially Betty, was glad to see the delivery van. It parked next to the convenient store and out came the driver and begun unloading. Unlike Bob who only takes the vehicle for a spin once a week, Harold’s job was that of a regular supplier. Rarely is he seen spending time at home since he’s on the road four days a week. Good thing Bob takes two more off Harold’s shoulders or else Betty wouldn’t see her husband at all. After the cargo was debarked out the truck and onto the shelves in the store, there was a rush. Folks formed a line to the market entrance and took turns to buy what they needed. Mr Brigs next run was not until Monday, meaning he’ll spent the weekend with his wife. He deserved a brake, an important man like him.
Once everyone else cleared the building, all who stayed were Danny and the couple. “There’s some mail here addressed to you, Aunty” informed Mr Brigs and handed over an envelope. Granny wasn’t expecting anyone to write to her. Who could it possibly be from? Still putting her messages as secondary, she asked about the reply for Jessica. Harold checked the remaining mail but found none, thus Danny sighted. With that out of the way she curiously turned to the letter meant for her. Just as she was about to open it, a well-known figure entered the shop and stuttered:
“Excuz me, iz der anee maill vor me?”
“Why yes; as a matter of fact there is something for you, Mr Patten” Harold remembered and gave Jacob a silver colour special delivery envelope “It must be something very urgent since the man at the office asked me to personally insure you receive it”
“Thhank ya. Gud daee” said the man upon taking it and left the building.
“Wonder what it could be about? It’s not everyday someone receives a special delivery in Oak Leaf” Betty questioned “And yours, Aunty? Who’s it from?”
“It’s…” Danny read the fine print and silenced for a moment to ponder. The letter was from metropolis, but granny couldn’t remember having any relatives there.
“It’s probably nothing” she lied “I’ll open it once home. Have a nice day”. Aunty exited the store and made for her house, still curious to the contents of the letter.
***
Food was scarce now that there were two mouths to feed. So right after breakfast Matson took a few bags and went to town. Better he stock up if another storm arises, just to play it safe. His guest was once again left to herself. It’s a strange situation, being left alone in someone else’s house – especially to this girl. Since she spent most of her life in the outdoors, all of this is a bit much to take in at once. Although in no condition to be strolling around, laying still in one place was definitely not acceptable. Easily pacing from wall to wall, holding against them while ignoring her pain, she explored the house. She already knew where all the books were situated, and now she also knew where the food is stashed. Curiosity soon led her up the staircase. It was hard, climbing stairs while withstanding the ache, but step by step holding onto the fence and she was soon up on the second floor.
Somehow she expected something more upstairs. In front of her was nothing else but another hallway. There was a nice wooden table with a vase of random flowers against the wall, some landscape paintings and doors – a lot of doors. Of course she wasn’t satisfied: surely there must be more then meets the eye? Again halting she approached and turned the knob of the first room. Earlier she saw how Matson opened the kitchen door, thus she understood the simplicity of the mechanism. This was actually the bedroom Aunty Danny usually uses. There wasn’t anything special at first sight, only that spare night-gown nicely folded on the bed. The vixen picked up the splendid white dress and unfurled it. Imagine that human male wearing this? Course not – her keen sense of smell almost immediately revealed another person, one she didn’t know of. Liking the richly donestitch and silkiness, she speculated. Quite quickly she figured how and wore the piece of cloth. It was just about her size, covering the bandages and her furless skin. Thought it made her look attractive – more human like.
The next room was the housekeeper’s bedroom. On one wall was a wardrobe and a music set while the one across hosted the work-table. There were lots of stuff on it – a mess, to put it shortly. Standing besides the chair she carefully examined each and every item she could find. Pencils, rubbers, pens, disks, papers, screws, wires and lots of other trinkets… nothing interesting for a regular human, yet to this fox-girl these were items of mystery. She enjoyed watching how the pen leaves a trail on the paper or how CDs shine rainbow colours under the sunlight - common everyday stuff. One thing confused her, though. Above his table Matson had posters of animals, including some featuring members of the VULPES family. She couldn’t understand why this human had pictures of those seemingly close to her. Regular mammals do share the look – sort of – but even he knew they were not the same. Was it a coincidence or something else?
Upon finishing fumbling through his junk, the vixen left the room. Only one door was left in the far end of the hallway that needed checking. Unlike other ones, this one had a strange aura. Like a forewarn telling her not to open it. Even shuddering begun, warnings to stay away. Curiosity really did get the cat, but she was a vulpine – a dog. Putting the omens aside she lowered her hand onto the trigger and pushed it down. Locked…! Inquisitiveness just wouldn’t let go: she remembered a similar sound, same like she heard when Matson tried to leave the house while forgetting to unlock first. She remembered how he inserted a piece of metal into a small hole and turned it, thus allowing him to open the door. Rolling back to a few minutes ago, the female went back to his bedroom. On the table was a metal bent the same as the one he used. Chances that this key would fit the lock aren’t that big… only no one told her that.
Just at the same moment the front door was heard. “I’m back” Matson announced as he entered the house carrying sacks of daily products. Clarifying that his guest was not in the library he made for the kitchen. “Hello? Are you here?” again he shouts. With no answer he leaved the sacks upright against a wall and decides to check his living room. Second after he entered there was a high pitch shriek. “Crud…!” he cursed and distraughtly run upstairs. He never thought she would be able to open that room, let alone get up the stairway with those wounds. Why would she want to open it at all?!
Sprinting into the dark room he saw the vixen squatting in a corner surrounded by hunting equipment and dead fur. Namely all this belonged to Timberwood’s ancestors, the grand trappers. After inheriting the house the boy locked it all up here in hope of never seeing it again. He couldn’t have just given or sold it to someone who’d make use of it, and he was too paranoid someone might find it if he throws it away. The girl was shaking uncontrollably as if her heart was going to burst out, while water filled her eyes and slide down her muzzle. It wasn’t a pretty site… all those hanging necklets had her scared to death. Before having time to rebel, Matson had already crouched and hugged her: “Nononononono…! Please don’t…! I’m sorry…! I’m so sorry…!” the panic-stricken lad repeated. Hearing his cries and feeling warmth of his embrace the vixen felt somewhat safer. Even though she wanted to hate him, his arms round her provided shelter. She prowled her head onto Matson’s chest and closed her eyes so as to not see this horror any longer, soaking the boy’s shirt with ever pouring tears…
***
For two days now Aunty hasn’t been feeling very well. Stubborn as she is she just wouldn’t stay put. Jessica opposes this idea of granny refusing to lie down and she tells her that openly even though she didn’t listen. This time, the young doctor found her cleaning the kitchen. She has been coming in baring supplies for Aunty and checking up on her fearing she might have fervour – something that could be fatal if not treated, especially in her age. Almost immediately she urged the patient to bed.
“But Jessy dear, I’m feeling just fine. And the kitchen could use some dusting…?” granny tried to justify and stay up. Jessica didn’t want to hear about it and contiguously rushed her into the bedroom:
“You are going straight to bed – period! I’ll take care of the kitchen”
“Alright, alright; you win” she added while climbing onto the mattress.
Although finding this order undesirable she decided to comply – if not for hers sake then for Jessica. The girl tuck granny in so as to provide warmth and hopefully make her sweat. It is the best way to remove toxin from a body. Securing granny in bed she showed herself to the kitchen deciding to check her patient in about fifteen minutes or so. For old Aunty these fifteen minutes seemed like fifteen interminable hours! Being a person full of energy she got easily annoyed if doing nothing. One moment the bed was too soft, then it too hard. Then the cover itch, air was stuffy, room seemed too small and walls too white… She was losing her mind! She couldn’t sleep – it’s not night – can’t work because diagnosed ill and all she could do, all she was allowed to do was lay in bed.
Jessica had just finished dusting the kitchen. It wasn’t a long job since granny seems to clean it almost every day. Afterwards she took a pot from under the sink and begun filling it with water wanting to make tea. “Native’s cure is the best cure” Jess smiled, though she knew that wasn’t true all the time. Minutes after the water reached boiling point she heard someone calling for Aunty outside. Beyond the window she saw Betty and Mrs Idol – the woodcrafter’s wife. Both were taking a walk and though about asking Danny to join them. The forecast announced heavy storms and the ladies though it’s a good idea to stretch their legs before being snowed in for the next few weeks. Unfortunately they were disappointed:
“Sorry, Aunty can’t talk now. She’s in bed, sleeping”
“Sleeping? At this hour?” confused Mrs Idol.
“She’s ill and needs her rest” explained the doctor.
“Oh dear… hope it’s nothing serious?”
“Just a mild cold… Nothing to worry about: she’ll be up on her feet in no time if she stays in bed” said Jessica, thus easing the situation.
Both women were relieved to have heard this and decided to pay granny a visit later after their walk. The so-called nurse was happy to prepare some cookies and coffee for when they arrive. As they were about to continue their stroll, Jessica halted them once more and accosted to Betty:
“By the way… Mrs Brigs? Have you seen Matson these last few days?”
“Not since he left my store four day ago. You should have seen him: he bought enough food to feed an army!”
“Hmmm… yes… Thank you, Betty”
Tea was ready and Miss Simpson prepared a cup andtray to take to granny’s bedroom. Timberwood’s activities still puzzled her. “Why don’t you go visit him?” asked granny who had left her room and was standing at the kitchen door, thus heard the entire conversation.
“Aunty! What are you doing out of bed?!” retort the girl.
“Don’t change the subject, dear. Why not go to Timberwoods and see how he’s doing?”
Jessica smiled. She has been asking herself the same question a moment ago. She wanted to see more of him, yet he was avoiding coming to town whenever it wasn’t necessary. She’d go visit him, but the problem was that whenever she sees him her cheeks blush. Wouldn’t want him knowing she’s shy about ‘em, now would she? Fright of making a fool in front of Matson prevented her from going up to his house. Relaying on that senior’s intuition Aunty knew in which bush the rabbit laid, and so she grin.
“Tell you what dear: once I’m better I’ll make a batch of muffins, and you can take them to Tiberwoods with excuse that I’m still ill” she developed and chuckle. Jessica didn’t really hear the plan but nodded her head as if she did. Then she took the tea and chased the tricky lady back into bed.
Meanwhile, on the outskirt of Oak Leaf, Mr Patten’s been rather busy shovelling in from of the hunter guild’s headquarters. With a wide paddle the old man panted while pushing the deep snow aside making access to the building. Even if nobody comes to HQ, it was his home as well. Just as he stopped to gather his strengths, Jack came up the hill and greeted him. Patten on the other hand wasn’t as pleased.
“Iv ya come to trri and chainge me mand, vorget it. Me desidion iz vinal” stammered the guild master without rising his head to look at the trapper.
“But you can’t do that!” rebelled Jack.
“I
“Well… have you told the rest of the guild?”
“No. I’ll thell tem on ourr nekzt meeeting”
“They’re not gonna be happy about it” assumed the tall man while scratching his neck.
“No me probblem”
“Come on, Jacob? Reconsider…?”
“Gud daee, Mrr Snik” stubbornly Mr Patten ended the argument and continued his work. Angry about his failed attempt, Jack turned away and stomped toward home.
***
Matson stood staring through the living-room window. A blizzard raged outside hazing the view, disallowing anything to be seen. “It begun early” he said to himself. The storms shouldn’t have started for another day or two, at least that’s what the weather forecast informed over the radio. Then again, it was really no surprise. Good thing the boy bought food in larger quantities, else they might have starvation. Sounds of hail bouncing off the house roof reached his ear, providing a rhythmic melody to fill the silence. Hearing no sound at all was as bad as hearing gunshots all the time and it really stressed Matson. He preferred his ambient rich with different noise. If not natural or that of his typing, usually then he would turn the music on. He has a collection of different music styles he both bought and downloaded off the internet – while it still functioned, that is…
The fox was sleeping on the couch behind him. Since she found that ‘room of horror’ a week ago, one would think she’d leave at once never to return nor want to see a human again. Seemingly that didn’t happen. While terror appeared and frightened her in form of nightmares, Matson doesn’t scare her at all. Trust isn’t the best word to describe these two’s relationship, yet it wasn’t that wrong either. Timberwood did save the vixen’s life nursing till her condition was stable again. She’s recovering steadily with most of the pain already gone. In few more days she’ll probably take off the bandages. Moreover, Matson was there when she found the horror, comforting her and shielding. No… I’m mistaking: there was trust after all… It was only rattled a bit.
Easily the housekeeper got bored of the melody made by ice hitting tiles and pulled the curtain over the window. There wasn’t much to see anyway. A few steps backwards and he sat onto the couch, right besides the fox-girls feet. He looked at her cute sleeping face and saddened. Nothing he does could erase what she saw, what will probably be the only thing to hunt her for the rest of life. How stupid of him to not empty that room a long time ago! Now he felt guilty for making her nights a pandemonium. And like devil’s work, as soon as he thought that, a rifle fired in the woods not that far from the house. Almost instantly the vixen jumped into a sitting position and scanned the room. “For the love of…!” twitched the writer, both angry and surprised that there were hunting activities during a storm. Upon noticing how his guest nervously moved her ears back and forth he leaned to the side and touched her back, the white silky night-gown that she seems to like so much:
“Don’t be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you – I swear on my life”
His vow wasn’t what he expected to say. Somehow it just came out without him thinking it. However, for some reason the vixen found it sincere. Turing in place she lowered her head onto the writers shoulder and went back to sleep. Like always when someone wants to express caring for another, Matson gently begun stroking her. Yet he didn’t do so like she was an animal, like petting a dog. No, he did it like she was equal, did it with tender feelings and caring. Cuddled by Matson she felt safer already. As if he had chased away all those bad dreams leaving only calm undisturbed sleep. Strange feeling absorbed them both, emotions that they never felt before.
Rising his head the housekeeper looked at the clock above the heart: it was past
The more he thought about her, the more ideas were born. And to this fantasist, the more ideas he has the grander his inspiration is. Careful not to wake her he leaned under the side table and took out a sheet of writing paper. He put a salver under it thus providing hard background and pulled a pen out of his gown’s pocket. Long in the night he wrote a different story, one seemingly superior then the one in his library. About dawn the hail had stopped, yet snow still falls. Matson was so into his writings that he didn’t notice the change between night and day. Already he had finished eighteen large papers of text – probably the longest hand written document he ever did – and the end was still unknown. Inspiration focused through his pen preventing him to stop. It was amazing: he wrote and wrote, no writing blocks, no stopping to think. His creation was fuelled by pure emotions, those he couldn’t recognize from last night. Sometime after
***
Only three days remain until Christmas. Luckily the storms ceased so it was possible for Harold’s van to come and bring in the last cargo. For the next week everyone’ll enjoy quality time with their families and friends, including Mr Brigs. Bedlam was in front of Idol’s family residence while everybody aims to buy decorations from the woodcrafter. It became more of a tradition to get detailed ornament from Mr Idol as his work was truly grand. If it ever went to market it would surely fetch a pretty penny. The woodcrafter, however, prefers to keep his business small, just for the townsfolk. He remembers how it was once when he did work for the wider public: he spent days making same kinds of wooden figures while still being rushed and reminded about a deadline. At that point crafting stopped being the one thing it always was to him: fun. And with it not being fun to do, he lost will to do it at all. Now that his contract’s over, he can once again turn this ploy into a source of amusement.
Besides everyone’s joy for the soon to arrive New Year, fowl owners were feud. Their poultry has been disappearing from their properties’ hen-houses for some time now and they couldn’t catch the culprit. This may be the exact reason why most of these owners joined the hunter’s guild. They figured if they blast all the wolves, foxes and lynxes their hens will be safer – dumb conclusion. And that’s precisely what they have been doing for all this time: killing and trapping wild predators. Matson tried to reason with them, telling that old saying that it’s better to prevent then to treat. As he explained, they should secure their chickens by building better shelters, rising fences or getting a dog. But no… people are too inpatient and lazy to take the harder route. By their logic it’s much easier to just shoot everything that had fang and claw and get it over with. No pity, no mercy, no regret… just death for the sake of false protection.
There was another person in town that was unhappy: old Aunty Danny. Usually she enjoys this holiday, but this time it was a different tune. Although she stayed in bed and regularly taken medicine and tea, her condition hasn’t changed – she is still sick. Even so, she prevented her sickness from ruining anyone else’s cheer by faking. Why just this morning she finished a new batch of crumpets. Smell of freshly baked cakes as she took them out of the oven was enough to cause you to slaver. She packed them in that wooden basket of hers, ready for transportation. Only when the oven cooled did granny figure how cold her body was. Drinking another cup of boiling tea that she had prepared on the side she hoped to feel better. However, it had no effect whatsoever. Just as another draught went down her throat Jessica came in. Danny’s pretending might be good enough to fool the rest of town, but it was no match for a doctor’s instinct. Diagnosing her with nothing but a look, Jess knew she was still unwell. No point in making a charade when you’re busted.
“No need to say anything, dear. I won’t go to bed” excelled the old bird and put the last cake into the basket.
“Please don’t make a big fuss about this, Aunty? You’re still ill!”
“Fiddle sticks! I’m feeling fine, thank you”
“You have fervor! If you don’t lie in bed this moment you might not live to welcome the next year!” infuriated the girl, more cause of fear then hatred.
Two women watched each other like rams before battle. One could feel as tension tightened and the air filled with hostility. That determine glare the young doctor provided looked as if she’ll attack at any moment. As stubborn as Aunty was, Jessica was worse even though she tries not to show it. Minutes afterwards granny gave up. She figured it is better if she surrenders willingly. In the long run she would had lost anyway…
“Alright, alright…! I’ll go to bed – again”
“Good!”
“Just do me a favor and take this basket to Timberwood. I’ll be in bed when you return”
“Very well. I’ll take your word on that” agreed Jessica.
While granny changed into her sleeping cloths the stubborn girl left the house. Seemingly Danny did lose the argument but she still completed her goal. In explanation, she never planned to take the cakes to Matson herself anyway. All was staged so as to make Jessica finally climb the hill and visit the boy she ‘secretly’ liked so much. “Aunty, you old fox… You still got it” smiled grandma to her own cunningness. Every once in a while she just has to praise at least one of her virtues. How else would she comfort her senior age? After changing she went to bed, dejected for having to do so – as always.
Up the hill, straight to Timberwood’s front door came the basket of sweetness. Jessica knocked on the door, yet nobody answered. Another knock followed but again nothing happened. It’s not like Matson to go anywhere except to town, especially without saying hi to Aunty first. Since the crumpets were cooling down and Jessica really wanted to give them to him, she tried to enter. Surprisingly the front door was unlocked, so she came in. Passing the living-room, the first room when one enters the hallway, she looked inside.
“Matson? You awake?” said Jess upon finding the writer sleeping in the chair.
“Jess…? What time is it?” almost immediately he woke up and yawned.
“Mat, it’s past
A good question indeed… Even he couldn’t remember what he was doing before falling asleep. He stretched and tried to remember when he went to sleep. Besides his best effort he kept drawing a blank. It must have been something involving his houseguest, but he just couldn’t figure out what. While he massaged his forehead and pondered Jessica turned back to the hallway:
“I brought you some of Aunty’s homemade cakes and the book you lent her. I’ll put it in your library. Granny asked me to tell you that it’s grand and that she expects the next part as soon as possible”
“She’ll just have to… wait… the library?! No, stop!” the lad jumped on his feet and shuffle through the living-room into the corridor.
Alas it was too late. Speechless, Jessica stood at the doorframe to the library and watched as a creature resembling a canine sat in the armchair and held an open book. The vixen also stared at the human girl, unsure what to think. It was unknown who was more confused of the two. One thing’s certain: Matson was the most concerned.
“Jessica, I can explain…!”
“What is it?!” finally she agog.
“Not ‘it’ but ‘she’” said the boy randomly wanting to extend the conversation at least till he can think of a good explanation. Unfortunately, his statement combined with the facts that he’s never around and that he couldn’t remember what he was doing all night provided Jessica whit a fast and wrong answer.
“Dear God!”
“Darn, that came out wrong… Calm down Jess, I can explain!”
“Explain? Explain what?! You’re housing a… a… her!”
“It’s complicated! Just let me pull myself together and I’ll explain…”
“How long has she been here?”
“About… two and a half weeks… I think…”
“…this isn’t happening…”
“Will you just keep quiet and let me finish?!!”
“Right… alright… I’m listening…” the girl calmed and sat onto a footstool.
“Man… where to begin? Guess it started one night when Aunty came to visit…”
While Matson fought to form reasonable sentences to tell how all this came to be, all Jessica did was stare either to the side or into the fox-girl. Her mind was full of confusion and doubt about what Matson’s telling and what he isn’t. She was so lost in thoughts that she didn’t notice when Matson finished the story and addressed her:
“Jess, this needs to be kept a secret. No one in town must know of Rene”
“Rene…? You named her?!”
And yet another slip off for Mr. Timberwood… True that naming her wasn’t such a big deal, but at this precise moment saying he did so was definitely not a good thing. The vixen could neither talk nor write, only read and even that’s an unexplainable miracle! He named her Rene in accordance with his favorite fiction character. She didn’t seem to mind. When he first suggested that, to call her by that name, she was a bit confused at first, but later she seemed to comply.
Speaking of wrong things to say, Matson refrained from telling the part where he sleeps on her shoulder. He still couldn’t decide how normal or abnormal that was, but in any case Jessica would have interpreted it wrongly. It’s obvious the girl felt uneasy with this vixen and, to some point, jealous towards her. Jess could see Matson only when he comes to town and even then she doesn’t get the attention she wants. Unlike her, Rene here spent two weeks with the writer practically begging to be near. Now that the doctor knew the real reason why Matson hasn’t been coming to town, she felt not only played but worthless as well. As if all her dreams where shattered and all hopes drowned. She didn’t show, but anger burned inside her, hatred towards this creature who taken away Matson from her – that little of him that she had.
“Hello? Jessica?”
“What…?” she left her trance.
“Have we agreed?”
“Agreed about what?”
“About keeping Rene a secret…?”
“Oh that… Alright Mat, I’ll keep my mouth shut… for now…”
“Thanks. You’re the best”
“Yeah right…” thought Jessica while being escorted outside.
***
Silent night, holy night;
All is well, all is bright…
…and while singing continued thought the 31 of December, at
In bed laid beloved Aunty, keeping her chilled body warm…
And in his cottage Jack dunked, by worries he was torn…
While Harold and Betty laughed happiness and cheer…
Jessica shed tears of a broken heart, hopes seem to disappear…
With Matson and Rene cuddled, for feels they cared…
Through windows, at falling flakes everyone stared.
***
What a great start for the next year as second day after New Year the entire town was in an uproar: Jacob Patten is dead! They found him in the snow next to a hen-house, his throat cut and his jacket nicked – a clear sign of a struggle. Mr Eastwood, the town would be sheriff was called to investigate. Arriving on his trusty steed, the only reliable sort of transportation for a mountain lawman, he began snooping around. He wasn’t that good of a detective nor did he have lot of resources, but having a policeman around town made the townsfolk feel safer. Besides, people thought it’s better to have someone delivering law by the book then letting everyone create their own. After careful looking around the body, the verdict wasn’t anything special. Apparently Mr Patten was slaughtered while trying to prevent another raid on the poultry. Mounting his horse he rode for his station to get his assistant to help him move the body. Assumingly whatever animal has been stealing hens has now killed a man!
Folks were petrified, and those who weren’t scared were furious. Bob and Jack were particularly hurt by Jacob’s death, one more then the other, and they both swore to find the perpetrator. A decree was made, one without an opposition, deciding that the hunter’s guild should find this beast and shoot it at any cost necessary. This had only one meaning: shoot them all! Although harsh blizzards followed, announced to rule most of the month, the two trappers weren’t going to stop. Because Bob Patten’s new job as the guild master uses up most of his time, Mr Brigs has taken the liberty of relieving him of the delivery duty. True that he won’t be home six days a week, but both him and his wife considered it a good deed. With his father’s decease everyone wanted to help the youngster, taking over his work whenever possible. Having so much spare time, he has devoted himself to helping Jack hunt predators. Only this time it wasn’t just for fun anymore – it was revenge. Even once the precipitations begin and mist arises hunting rifles will be heard echoing the forest.
Unaware of the situation taking place in Leaf, things had quite a different development at Timberwood’s family house. For the first time since she took the bandages off Matson saw Rene in her full beauty. The shaved fur had grown back and after he shown her where to wash soon it shone a beautiful reddish brown combination. Rene tested her newly filled strength by flaunting through the house, turning and swinging her body around as if she was dancing. Yet first she took of the famous night-gown she adopted – even to her it would be too strange. For some reason, Matson just couldn’t look one’s fill. Secretly he followed the vixen from one room to another, watching how she dances as if mesmerized. Of course, quickly she realised that he’s stalking her. By discovering this she also figured he wants to see more, thus she begun seducing. A very old ploy it is, seduction. Some women know it and use it in many ways, other prefer not to show. For this female it was something natural, something meant not for personal gain, but as a peak of showing care for another, showing need to be beside another. It was a way of expressing emotion through sheer grace of movement and figure. And apparently, she really did care for young Timberwood.
While a strong urge to keep watching kept pecking every part of Matson’s body, his mind was singing another tune. The girl knew her ploy, and with every move she made the human felt a bigger sensation. Never before had he thought he might become ablaze by something like this: It was unnatural, unmoral and – most of all – just plain kooky! Thinking about it, just how far is a man willing to go to feel pleasure? Mat has been asking himself this question for a long time, entering in all kinds of discussion and philosophy for an answer: What is moral anyway?! Morality has been changed countless times throughout history and is so unstable that everyone seems to bend it whenever needed. Killing for fun is not considered moral, yet killing for sport is still utilised everywhere across the world under countless excuses. Timberwood’s head was full of disorder, yelling for answers. He was battling with himself about what is the right thing to do.
Like empathy, Rene felt the human’s agony. Perhaps he wasn’t ready for such overpowering seduction or perhaps she just overdid it. Ceasing the odd sexy dance she walked up to Matson who held his hurting head with both hands. Leaning against his back she gently escorted the housekeeper to the couch and helped him sit down. Guilt that she hurt instead of pleasing him consumed her. As she was about to leave to find shelter in the library, unexpectedly Matson reclined into the back, all red in the face: “Sorry… It’s just… I never though I’d feel this way… especially with something as strange as this…” sighting he looked into those mysterious yellowish eyes. Without having the power of speech the vixen couldn’t apologise. While he wanted to take all the blame for this shameful situation, she wouldn’t let him. It was her fault because she tempted him, not the other way around. Expectations were too high, thinking he’d just jump at first glance of her. She reclined onto the couch next to him and once again accepted his head onto her shoulder as an only way of saying sorry. Not even the brutal gunshot that was heard afterwards ruined the moment. It only helped Matson let go of his tears being held back, let them soak the fox’s fur. Both were lost in the same another world, so far away from their dreadful reality.
***
With more then a week of January already passed, the bad weather has reached its climax. Winds brought snowy curtains over the entire region and visibility was about nil. A stubborn person shifted for oneself across the streets, taking cover between buildings whenever he had an opportunity. The cold pierced straight through his thick winter jacket as if it was made out of paper and chilled the unfortunate’s skin. Slow progress soon paid off as the figure managed to reach his destination. It was a small house on the far end of Oak Leaf, few meters before the road to the highway. The power was out, but a lantern’s light shined through the window, helping the traveller steer straight to the front door. Pulling his hands out of his jacket he knocked on the door, then as quickly as possible returned them back into his pockets. “Aunty, open up! It’s me!” yelled a female voice so as to be heard cause of the strong winds. Few brief moments passed and an unlocking sound came from the inside. As soon as the door opened the arrival burst in and shut it close again.
“Dear God child! What are you thinking walking around in this weather?!” asked Danny while putting Jessica’s overalls to dry. They were so dank that the floorboard beneath where it was hung turned soggy in minutes.
“Look who’s asking” pleasantly smiled the girl aiming at granny’s walk up that hill.
“Fair enough…” submitted Aunty while returning the grin.
Although the hot furnace already warmed up the chill that Jessica brought in, Aunty added another log into the fire. Her bones were still cold, and the sickness isn’t benefiting the situation much either. She really ought to lie down, yet her temperament once again proven a problem. No sanctions could keep this senior in bed and today Jess really wasn’t up for the challenge. Actually, this visit was more then a regular doctor’s check up: this time she needed advice. Ever since New Year’s Eve jealously wouldn’t give her a break! She dreams visions of Matson neglect her cause of Rene, sees her leaving with him while taunting. They’ve been together for a long time, longer then any moment he spent with Jessica. Many things come to mind, those that most likely came to be, and none of them were in her favour. The answer was hidden in one simple question: how far’s Matson willing to go?
Her thinking was curtailed by Aunty’s ruthless cough. While not admitting it, Danny knew that her condition was worsening. It wasn’t just the fact that she’s out of bed. Because of snow-storms Harold’s delivery van was running not late, but too late! He left for the city five days ago and still no one’s heard from him. Food and such weren’t a problem since the store always stocks up on those for emergencies. Unlike daily products, medicine couldn’t be taken so far in advance without a doctor’s approval. Jessica didn’t have a degree, thus her diagnostic is considered worthless in higher eyes. If only Aunty had remembered and went to metropolis for a check up before the blizzards begun maybe she wouldn’t be in such a helpless condition! Like that old phrase that Jack often uses: now it’s too late to cry over spilled milk. Somehow she’ll just have to manage, keep holding on with those few pills she has. Jess has brought all of hers medicine as well, but even together there isn’t that much left. Hopefully it will last till Harold gets back. Trying an optimistic approach Aunty Danny compressed her worries and begun the conversation by pouring some nice thermal camomile tea.
“So tell me, dear: what did Mr Brigs say about your scholarship?” asked the old lady and coughed again. Once it settled down she sipped the miracle liquid. She mixed some honey into it so as to make it sweeter and please the sore throat better. Knowing Jessica she prepared to embrace a scolding about how she should talk less. Surprisingly that wasn’t the case…
“He went to the university like I asked him and they told him they’re still considering it” she answered with a plain voice. While the expected reply from metropolis did interest her, at this time another theme interested her even more:
“Aunty… I’ve got a problem”
“That’s what I’m here for, dear. What’s bothering you?”
“It’s about Mat…”
Hearing her say his name in such an unsure voice made granny smile. It wasn’t the way she said it, it was that she wanted to talk openly about the man she liked. Familiar with how shy Jessica usually is when this subject pops up, telling this to granny meant she trusted her more then anybody else. Waiting for this conversation made Danny’s face shine of joy. The one thing she truly wanted before she goes away was to see these two birdies together and happy.
“Now, as you have probably already noticed, I have a certain… liking… towards Matson…” unsurely continued the girl.
“Yes…?” sinisterly with no bad intensions smiled the lady.
“… but… what if… what if he doesn’t feel the same?”
“Sweetheart…” Danny tried to say with a soft voice.
“What if there’s… if he… likes… someone else?”
“Now what makes you think that?”
Jessica was unable to untangle Aunty’s confusion due to the vow she took about not telling on Rene. Though at this moment she despised her, a promise was made to Matson. While it seemed like the situation was already decided for, she still kept a bit of hope. That pledge of secrecy she gave might raise her in Mat’s eyes, steer him to see her as a trustworthy person. For an answer, all she did wasshrug her shoulders.
“Don’t you worry, dear. Of course he likes you!” inspirited the sure senior.
“You don’t understand, Aunty! I’ve seen her at his house!”
Silence filled the air. The newly stated information both escalated Danny’s confusedness and lowered her confidence. Who could possible be that Timberwood is so attracted to?! There aren’t that many young girls here in Oak Leaf… Who is it?! In her thoughts she began naming. First there’s Britney, the Idol family’s oldest. It couldn’t be her… Not that she wasn’t pretty – it was her personality that was ugly: a very big ego combined with a bursting nature. Even her parents have a tough time finding a common language with her. In a day she and Mat would be at each others throat if not sooner! Then we have the Thomas twins, a local livestock owner’s daughters. They’re sweet in more ways then one. Both girls are just like their entire family – plumped. Infinite sweet tooth made sure these ladies have a literally round figure. Maybe it’s good to have them as company, but neither was Matson’s type… And, of course, who can forget Emily Hilton? Probably the only person in town that actually possesses a diploma, she has return to Oak Leaf to plan future town developments. This area’s secluded, on the forest boundary and always under snow… a perfect place for a holiday lodge. Ms Hilton is a charming young lady, both conversational and good looking. Only problem is: she’s already been divorced once and still hasn’t gotten over it. Plus she’s mostly in metropolis during winter period – paperwork and stuff. Somehow Timberwood and Emily just don’t fit in together… at least according to Aunty.
Last but not least was Miss Simpson. Jessica may be stubborn from time to time, but that’s mostly out of concern. Besides that she’s nice, fair, caring, smart, and to top it all very beautiful. Now all of her virtues seem shadowed by despair and jealousy. Granny knew those evils and could instantly recognise them. Despair was like an endless pit where one keeps falling, never to reach the bottom. And jealousy? A devilish emotion! The more it feeds the more hatred it spawns, charges it until a person explodes with rage and does something to regret for the rest of his life. Danny knew it must be channelled so as to release without damage. Doctor’s self-reliance was shaken and granny decided to fix it:
“Now you listen to me, Jessica *cough, cough* Matson likes you very much. He might not show it, but this old hag knows love in its early stages. If you… *cough, cough… cough, COUGH, cough!* If you want him to love you, first you must love him! Then, once true feelings come into play, it will be shown who cares for whom. And only then will you know exactly what to do. You… *cough, cough!* understand…? *cough, COUGH, COUGH, cough, COUGH!!!*”
“Aunty? You alright…?”
“…*sigh*…”
“Keep quiet. I’ll get your medicine…”
***
A couple of kilometres from metropolis there is a restaurant motel. This was the last place people visit before entering, leaving or siding around the big city. While it’s usually busy 24/7, this last week business’s been slow. Apparently the devilish weather has reached metropolis as well and extremely precautions were declared. The rest stop is almost completely empty! Except for employees, there were only two or three more people inside. Being one of them, Harold Brigs was also drifted. He left Oak Leaf to bring in new supplies on Saturday exactly four days ago and still hasn’t even made it to the loading point. Although he knows the townsfolk have their emergency stash, residing so far away from home isn’t making him feel well. He tried to call Betty since their store is the only building with a phone, but it seems the telephone line to Leaf’s been cut – probably by a knocked down tree snapping the cable somewhere along the road. This also meant the power was off, another thing that will need repair once the blizzard ceased.
Harold stood in the main hallway and watched through the glass auto-door how the storm carries rubbish from the toppled dumpsters. He had a change of mind about trying for the city. Doing a brave deed and a stupid one are two completely different things. Better he waits out the storm then slide off the road and gets himself killed. His biggest concern is about his wife worrying something had happened to him and he didn’t want to make her bad presage true. Pacing through the corridor only had he realized he was thirsty. With a few coins from the coat’s pocket he turned to the vending machine near the exit. The button somewhere at the bottom of the list was for a hot cappuccino, so Mr Brigs readily pressed it. He heard a clang followed by another chink, but the liquid didn’t pour. “Aw nuts! It ate my coin!” he complained out loud. After failing to try and rattle the machine to work, he disappointedly left to the restaurant. And to think that a moment before he used the automatic he was considering buying one for their store.
The dinning part of the motel was probably with the most people. The janitor and a waitress were sitting side a table at the far end of the room drinking coffee and chatting while the barman did the same with a customer only at the opposite end. Television was on, but the interferences are severe and the picture is rather unpleasant to watch. All day they have been emitting news about how horrible is the weather as if people haven’t already noticed that by themselves. Audio was so bad that the employee muted it and turned on the music instead – a combination playlist of evergreen hits. Those wide windows were all fogged up showing the difference in temperature inside and out. Coming at the bar, Harold sat onto a stool and took his bag off the shoulder.
“What’ll it be Harold?” asked the barmen as he stepped behind the shelter. All people who worked here knew Mr Brigs, Oak Leaf’s main supplier. He is, after all, one of their regular customers.
“I’ll just have a hot chocolate,
“Again…? Drat! Don’t worry: I’ll ask Benny to take a look at it one more time”
“Just hang an ‘Out-of-order’ sign or something” laughed Harold knowing that the exact same sentence was said last time he was here.
As the chocolate melted in a tiny pot
“So… how’s Betty?”
“Hilton, I’ve been stuck here for two days now. The telephone doesn’t work and Betty is probably worried sick about me”
“Yeah… Sorry ‘bout that Harold. Stupid question…” the employee wiped some glasses.
“Shouldn’t you be asking about Emily instead of wondering about my wife? You two aren’t still keen at each other?”
“Harold, Emily and I have been divorced for a whole month now”
“Divorced…?! How come Emily never told us that?” surprised Mr Brigs.
Apparently the only person in Oak Leaf who knew of the Hilton’s break up was old Aunty. It’s really no surprise: Danny was the first to know about these things since everybody tells her before anyone else. One could always rely on that old lady to hear him out and keep a secret. Still, their divorce wasn’t that secretive. Emily just didn’t want to make a big scene about it. She was going to let everyone else know of it sooner or later. For now, she just needed some time to calm down and relax.
“Why’d you split up?”
“Oh, no special reason. We simply wanted different things in life. She was up and about making that lodge and focused mainly on her career. I, on the other hand, wanted for us to settle down at my parent’s old place, have kids, enjoy living together… that kind of stuff. We couldn’t come to an agreement, tried succeeding on our own, we argued and snap – we split up”
“You’re joking? Just like that you let her go?! If Betty and I were to break up for every tiny argument we had I think we would had never gotten married in the first place”
“You think we judged too soon?”
“I think you are both blockheads! After all the trouble you went through to get together, you break apart in a split second?! You still love her, don’t you
“Well… it has been lonely without her voice around…”
“Is that so …?”
“I do feel somewhat empty…”
“There, you see? That is where SHE use to be”
“I don’t know, Brigs… Last I saw her she clearly said she never wants to see me ever again” he tilted his eyes.
“Poppycock! Harsh words always fly when there’s an argument!”
“But… how will I know that she didn’t mean it?”
“Hmm…” after some careful pondering, Harold looked inside his mailbag “Why not write a letter? I can deliver it to her office and while returning I will stop by and tell you her reaction”
“No no… I think… I think I’ll just phone her. She always did prefer the direct approach. Perhaps we can start over again? If it’s not to late…”
“It’s never too late until you say it is. Haul your ass to the phone, boy!”
Momentarily
Normally it’s against his nature to put his nose into another’s privacy, yet there was something fishy about this. Still in doubt, he took out a paperknife and gently opened the top of the envelope. Like some hiding stalker his eye’s nervously rolled from one side of the restaurant to another while the knife slowly cut the paper. He stopped blinking only once the container was completely opened and the message inside revealed. It was indeed horrible handwriting, many letters permuted and not very grammatical – another sign that it’s not Jacob who at least knew how to write well. The letter was addressed to one Rob Z.Thomas, some unknown fancy lawyer in metropolis. Instead of jumping to the bottom of the page and reading who the sender is, Harold followed his principles and read it from the top. Deciphering the words at a snail’s pace, with each one he read the face had a grimmer look. Once reading the signature he literally jumped off the barstool and stormed out the door.
“…alright dear. Love you too. Bye”
“Sorry
“Now? In this weather?! Are you off your rocker?! You can get yourself killed out there! Wait till the blizzard ends! Harold…!”
Not hearing Hilton’s warnings, the supplier rushed out into the raging snow. With the clouds and the sun already setting, night time was about. The razor wind felt as if it cut straight to the bone. Another wave then blew his hat off and carried it into the unfriendly dark sky. Still Harold paid no attention to the hostile environment and somehow made it to his van. He inserted the key and wanted to unlock, but the door was shut frozen. Continuous trying eventually gave result and he entered. Fastening his seat belt and turning the headlights on he drove towards the nearest mega-market. The two workers who were sitting beneath an overhang really surprised to see him. Huge trucks with wagons are something usual, coming with very big orders, but all smaller vehicles don’t come around when there’s a blizzard. Harold gave the two men a list of products and quantities that need to be loaded and pleaded them to hurry up. Although they agreed, finding the goods was not an easy task. The warehouse was full of gigantic crates with only small blurry labels to tell what’s inside. Even with Mr Brigs helping them it took the workers roughly two hours to fill up the van’s trunk. By the time he left for home it was already firmly dark, and with the storm worsening soon it was impossible to see anything even with long reflective lights.
“Blast this dreaded snow!” Harold cursed over and over while trying to focus on the road ahead. A fog arose and made the situation even more dangerous by reducing the visibility to only half a meter. The slow 30 miles per hour he drove at was not going to get him to town for a whole week! Yet whenever he begun speeding up the tires would start sliding and he’d lose control of the van. Hurried as he was, speeding up is a bad idea. After driving for about five hours he had to face the truth: he was lost. The road was unfamiliar to him and the white curtain prevented the horizon from being scouted. Perhaps he made a wrong turn at the last fork in the road a few miles back? Never before did he mistaken at the fork, but the weather is so bad that anything’s possible. Carefully he began turning the van around. Alas there are times when even being the most careful doesn’t stop accidents. Halfway turned he heard a loud horn and a beam of light broke through the mist. Sound of creaking breaks was followed by a slam as a huge 8-weels truck nailed into the van’s side! To make things even worse, the wagon it was pulling made a rotation and whacked Harold’s trunk launching him flaying over the safety metal. Crumpled, the smaller vehicle slid down the slippery slope and tumbled over. “Holy crap! What the hell happened?!” yelled one of the two truckers as they came out of the cockpit into the cold. Both raced to the upside-down van and checked on the driver. Although banged up and badly wounded, Harold was alive. Even with his seatbelt on it is devil’s luck he survived such a crash. The outside cold circulated through the shattered windows making his body chilled yet suddenly he felt the temperature rising. He couldn’t have known that the provider of warmth were in fact streams of blood. With a harsh pain he tried to move his head. A rapid of strange snaps was heard from the spine and his neck muscle became sore, thus disallowing the wished motion. Once he couldn’t do that, all muddy without realising he’s topsy-turvy he went for a button to unhook his belt.
“You lucky bustard! Don’t move!” raged one of the truckers and slapped Harold’s hand which went limp in a moment.
“Oh man… We gotta get ‘em to a hospital!” said the other.
While the two rescuers panicked how to proceed, all Mr Brigs could see was his wife sitting on the floor, crying and scolding him for doing such a stupid action he knew would end up badly, begging him to return home. On the other hand, the illegible letter kept echoing in the background, telling him that the people in Oak Leaf have to know the truth at all cost. Both voices faded into black as Harold closed his eyes, hoping to live to fulfil these requests.
***
After Rene’s first attempt failed, her try to lure this human she grown so fond of perhaps even more then she expected, Rene didn’t give up. When the blizzards begun it was a perfect opportunity for Matson and her to have an audience. Every day she was close to him, just plainly moving around while showing off her beautiful fur and mesmerizing bushy tail. A clever tactic it was, tempting the boy without any significant action. While the battle within his mind proceeded slowly, emotions had gotten much more precise and the urge much harder to resist. Hiding that he’s peeping at the female’s strange figure soon became so obvious that one could notice it from a mile away. It was time for the next step in this foxy plan. Still acting commonly she would lie on the couch right across him and continuously watch how many times his focus broke. She wanted Matson to realize by himself that he can not resist but have a look at her. In the end all the nervousness finally beaten the suppressions and the housekeeper cracked: “Rene… would you mind dancing for me…?” he said a very short, very fast sentence. Although the girl hardly waited for this request she wanted to play her cards right. Letting him know about the strategy could backfire, making him resent instead of wanting her. Acting confused she turned her head to the side as if thinking about it. Like every great plan, this one also had a fluke in that Rene was really eager to dance for this male. Forgetting about the rules of play for a second she stood up and then it was already too late to back down, thus a dance had started – a slow motion followed by wind whispers. Every move was done to perfection; every blink could see beauty; every moment made the human sweat. This wasn’t an animal, it wasn’t human either – she was a goddess! The dancing and watching went on for hours, yet every time Rene touched Matson’s skin he would sober. Figure making was stopped and each pretended like nothing happened… except once. A day before the storm ended those urges leaked. On contact the mind went blank and Matson had gone into trance. It was more of a cuddling experience then anything else, yet Mat was so out of and at it that anything could have happened during those minutes… even things they both were scared to think and imagine about.
Morn came only the next day. Fulfilled with whatever occurred the night before, nothing prepared Timberwood for the news Jessica brought running up the hill. In complete difference to the youngster, she appeared at his door all in tears and distress. Through babble Jess was partly able to say the heavy words which clogged her throat. Assuredly Matson read her lips. Without enough medicine and any kind of hint when the storm’ll lift the thing everybody feared most had happened: Aunty Danny passed away… Shock became sorrow, sorrow became pain. Pain combined with the once again active thinking of what he had done for the last months soon decant into guilt. Watching at the doctor made even more guilt and it accumulated. On his mind’s battlefield was nothing else but a huge hole, silently consuming the bigger picture. A burial ceremony was held the very same day in fear of new tempests preventing it later on. The entire populous was there, every single man, woman and child – all but some, that is. While nobody noticed, Jack was absent. Besides the obvious deviant, Betty and Bob weren’t there either. Since Harold has neither come back nor contacted in a week Mrs Brigs became very upset. She pleaded to young Patten and he somehow managed to start up an old wreck, so they went towards metropolis to find out what happened to him - hopping it was nothing.
After everyone else left, the only people left standing at the grave were Jessica and Matson. Both watched how the wind is trying to lift the flowers people brought from their homes – those only petals in town. A sad and wordless moment it was as the two black coats waved with the soft air. Jess didn’t have to explain the look she gave Timberwood `cause he already knew what it meant. From the moment she left Matson just stood there – pondering. Pondering what could of, should of and how it would have affected all if done. One of the most important people in his life was drastically ill while all he thought about was that strange pleasure. Watching him from a distance not wanting to revel herself, Rene now understands that the blame is actually not on Matson’s shoulders, though on hers. Because of her presence has the boy neglected those people close to him and because of her temptations hasn’t he been there when they needed him. Saying anything at this time would be inappropriate even if possible. Doing anything could end even worse! His blank face was in fact an expression of hopelessness, one mourning on the inside, keeping every bit of feeling held back from coming into the open. He was furious at the world, at her, but most of all – at himself. If it were possible the vixen would give up everything to change this outcome. Once again by pleasing him she unintentionally hurt him even more. Loneliness is what this boy now needs the most, thus without a sound the vixen left her post. Weighing in her mind, instead of going to his home she changed her course and went to the opposite direction. Just like him she also needs to clear her head which was at this moment filled with thoughts about situations a being like her never expected to encounter. Control was completely lost in the lives of people of Oak Leaf as, instead of joy, the storm’s end brought about nothing else but hurting and sorrow.
***
Once affliction reached the peak, those yellow eyes cried. Between every footstep Rene made were marks of tears. Her strong desire made Matson’s life miserable and now she was doing the same to her own. Right now in the future she saw only misery for either Matson or herself – one excluding the other. If she was to stay with the boy there was no telling what might happen next and so far it didn’t bode good. On the other hand, if she left she wouldn’t have felicity. As hard as it is to understand it she has fallen in love with someone completely opposite to herself on every plain. When it comes to love, for her there were no boundaries in form of moral or similar manmade manners, no specific rules of play. The once regular life of a vagabond roaming the forest had ended the moment Rene was carried over Timberwood’s doorstep. Heading back to that lifestyle seemed unendurable, yet now it protruded like an only solution. A true crack of emotion was taking place within her chest, a hurtful mixture of sad feeling which she never felt before. Unlike when her heart pounded out of fear, now it was dreadfully quiet and drowning. It was like a thousand years of loneliness being continued just when you thought they were over. Drops of crystal water were sliding down her muzzle and each drop helped release a heavy bundle of merciless hardship...
(to be eventually continued...)
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