I wanted to make a monster story, but this damn fox wouldn't let me. Sometimes the things I imagine become so big and bright in my mind that they steal the scene and want to make it all about them. So I gave the fox his happy little ending and saved the monster for October. Please, enjoy this short tale, and I will see you next Friday.
The silver-haired fox cautiously padded its way towards the canyon spring, an oasis in a sandy landscape that did not otherwise see water for miles around.
This fox was a stunning example of the males of his species. His frame and muscles were adequate for what he needed to do, but his main feature, his silver hair, was what made him special.
The silver hair of these foxes are meant to attract a mate; the better groomed and displayed foxes getting laying rights and the chance to make pups of the same vigor and colored fur.
It was for that right and for his fur he had come to bathe in the half-moon light of the canyon oasis, a dangerous but worthy expenditure.
A beast waited in the hidden darkness. It had been.
The prey was so close, the air was thick with its scent, like a fog of meat and breathing mass. The long silver fur of his selection glimmered ever so-slightly in the half-moon light.
The beast barely breathed. The silver prey could hear and smell too, though it was far too interested in grooming itself under the slow drip of a canyon stream. The thick green foliage had covered most everything, soaking up this constant slim flow of water, delivered through cracks and holes far unseen in the ground.
The hungry beast was black, save for his eye, a green tint giving a slight edge in low light. Scars etched into his hide told of many fights and many wins, for here he still was, here he was still hunting. A black panther that knew how to wait and how to kill.
The silver-haired fox, quietly allowing the water to cascade down it’s head and through his back, could sense that something wasn’t right in this usual stopping point for animals of this arid land. Water has a way of bringing every living thing together, especially where it is rare.
As the larger beast flexed its claws in anticipation, its whiskers twinging with excitement, the fox felt a low rumble of the panther’s stomach unexpectedly groaning in hunger.
The chase began.
The panther roared, enraged that it had been found, and leapt at the fox. The fox turned and scattered away, covered by the thick foliage. But the panther did not hunt only by sight. The fox had its smell, all living things have a smell. He could not run from that.
The fox kept running, rare bursts of moonlight bouncing of his back, sparkling like a fast stream of glitter through the dark canyon of trees, ferns, bushes, and grass. The only sounds were of four panting paws, quickly pursued by four bigger, heavier ones tearing through the dried leaves.
As the forest ran up, the canyon leading out into open desert, the fox knew where it was going. He exited the canyon.
An explosion of pure light, the half-moon’s light setting ablaze his freshly-moisturized silver-hair into a dazzling display of glowing sparkles, every drop refracting and the entire desert suddenly awake in his glorious light.
Female foxes from miles around saw and knew what it was. Their darker, intimate areas dampened with excitement and lust. They had been waiting for the proper display, the proper mate.
Something beyond primal lunged inside them. More than just sex, it was a desire to carry on such beauty and might within their womb and raise it into another animal of such purity and might.
The panther’s nose was instantly stuffed with female fox pheromones, the arid air choking on the scent of female fox genitalia. His eyes had also become blurry by the still running shine of a million droplets of water turning night into silver day.
Confused, he growled in hungry frustration. He had waited for hours, passing on smaller, easier prey for a big one, like that flamboyant fox that is surely to sire dozens of litters of pups tonight. The panther turned away, searching for some mice or scorpions to quell his tensing stomach.
The fox did indeed go and sire, and sire much. An entire species became more virile and silver, thanks to the display of a fox and a panther on a chase.