The Fox Path

There once was a man who lived quietly. Like to all who do, though, confrontation finally found him where he lived in his small home nestled away from the nearest villages. To the east side of his home lay the field where he farmed enough to eat and preserve leftovers for the winter. Also there he kept his milk cow and his two hogs. To the west grew the forest that loomed in close enough to hug the walls. Beyond the forest were great cliffs that hung over a lake so vast that he could not see the other side no matter how long he stared. Ten paces from the south wall of his house was a stream that twisted and turned farther away than he had ever walked even on his longest hunts, and grew sometimes into a mighty river and in some places shrunk so small that one could simply walk over it. From the door on the north side of his home was a small dirt path that eventually led to a trail that led to a road that crossed over several bridges before it would take him into the village.

The man who lived here existed in near peace away from the chaos of the villages. He spent his days farming and hunting and tending his home. When he grew tired of chasing the crows from his snow peas only to have them relocate to his beans, he built a dummy that kept the birds at bay. He called it a scarecrow, and when the time came he journeyed into the village and traded scarecrows for tools and cloth. His body was strong and his hands rough. He kept his voice from getting raspy by talking to his only companion, a gray cat named Sheba. He fed her the finest bits of meat and grain, and kept her on his lap when he had time to rest until she would grow weary of him and wander away. At night he slept with Sheba's warmth on his bed, petting her and being thankful for another presence. In the morning when he spoke to her she would often lay in a ball in the sun and listen, meowing when she had something to add. Then, while he farmed, she would hunt mice around the garden and the edge of the woods. She would carry them to the house and eat, guarding them angrily if he came too near, swiping at him even if she was lying in the doorway and he only wished to pass inside. Still, life was good except for Sheba's fits of jealousy and anger when the man did not supply one of her needs. Mostly his hands and ankles remained free of her claw marks. His life was not joyous or even happy, but it was quiet and content and that was what he believed he wanted above all else.

He looked forward to the nights when the skies opened up above him and the rains would fall down onto his field and the woods and the stream and the path and the roof of his home. He would listen to the droplets until sleep would come. On those nights he would dream of a woman with a round face and soft, dark hair that hung to her shoulder in wisps. She would climb into his bed and look at him with large, dark eyes like the water at the bottom of a well, and press her head against his chest and purr softly, caressing him. He would feel the softness of her skin unlike anything he had felt in the waking world. The taste of her reminded him of fresh spring grass, and he would pull her beneath him to feel their bodies close, and drown himself as deeply into her softness as he could. In the morning he would wake to miss her, but also be surprised at how familiar the dream woman had felt.

One morning the man woke and stepped outside to find that the air smelled of change and the first of the leaves had turned to fire and gold. The time had come to begin to harvest all he could during the light of the sun and then preserve his vegetables after the moon rose. He worked all day to gather tomatoes that looked like they might otherwise burst on the vine, and carried in several bushels of apples. His harvest would be plenty, and he thanked the graces of the pixies for this. he also thanked Sheba because he somehow knew that the cat had the power to grant him good or ill luck. Once when he had accidentally stepped on her tail and made her yowl with rage and pain, he had fallen off his roof while fixing a shingle and been nearly unable to walk for a week.

Now he gave Sheba a warmed bowl of cream to drink and thanked her for protecting his harvest. She looked at him wisely with her dark cat eyes before ignoring him to drink. That night when the man laid his head down upon his pillow, the rain started to patter just as the cat curled up next to him.

That night when he dreamt of the woman, she did not act like normal. Instead of draping her hands over him, she stayed back and her liquid eyes were cold. For the first time, she spoke to him. Her voice was beautiful but there was something unusual to it, like wood crackling in a fire.

"You would betray me," she said, "given the chance."

In his dream, he shook his head and promised her that he would never. He tried to reach out and take her into his arms, but her face contorted with anger. She growled and bit his hand until he pulled away from her. She licked his blood from her lips and repeated her omen. "Choose your path wisely," she warned him, " for I will make certain you get no second choice." With that she was gone, and the man slept in emptiness. After his dream was done the rain began to pound in such torrents that if should have woken him, but the man lay all night like a dead thing.

In the morning he woke to find the skies clear with a pale sun already risen and distant. When the man stepped to his gardens, he almost cried out at the sight of what had happened to his vegetables. Rain had washed away almost half of his snow peas along with the remaining tomato plants. The wind had knocked all the rest of the apples off of the trees, and buried them in the mud. The man only sighed and began to harvest the grains that had been left standing. While he gathered the amber stalks into great bundles, Sheba hunted moths in the grass, pouncing them and then looking up at him triumphantly. While the farmer worked, he wondered if he had accidentally offended the pixies to bring such destruction to his food, or if the dream he'd had last night was linked to this event. After he had collected most of the wheat that was ready, he knelt down in the mud among his carrots to pull the longest of them before the sun could set. When he reached to the first one, though, he brushed aside another plant and revealed a large green snake curled up beneath its leaves. He drew his hand back quickly, but the snake had already been startled. The plant snapped back, blocking his view and now the poisonous creature was lost among the leaves. The farmer was afraid to move, not knowing which direction the snake had slithered off in. stepping on it would surely cause it to bite, and the venom would kill him before he could reach the nearest village for help. He felt it slither between his ankles, and he fought the urge to jump away. Just as he had made up his mind to run out of the garden, he heard the lightest of all thumps from just next to him. He looked in time to see a dark red fox dip her head beneath the leaves. She rose with the serpent twisting viciously in her mouth. She shook the snake and dug her teeth, sharp as pins, into it to kill it, but with its dieing movement in swung around and bit her in the shoulder. With a yelp, she clamped her jaws down and snapped the creature in half and then collapsed amongst the plants and cried.

The man knelt down next to the fox and watched the tears drip down her muzzle. The setting sun glowed on her fur, making it look like the final embers of a fire. He put his hands around her body and carried her into his house. This fox would die protecting him, the least he could do was keep her warm and hold vigil over her for her last hours. He folded the blanked from his bed and laid it on the mat on the floor, resting the fox gently upon it. He wetted a cloth and cleaned her jaws and would so that at least she would not leave this life with blood upon her face. He knew that he could suck some of the venom from her wound, but she would still most likely die and risk the poison infecting him as well. Whether she lived or died, her action would have been without a purpose if he died despite them. Instead, he sat next to her and petted her and prayed to the gods to let her live. The fox opened her eyes long enough to stare up at him with one silver eye that was just as beautiful and as troubled as the moon.

In his concern, he had forgotten all about Sheba until she pounced in through the window. She prowled through the house, growling angrily as she knocked his possessions off of the shelves and tables and clawing at the furniture and walls. She hissed and growled, but he had no attention for her, and she kept a wide birth of the dieing fox, who kept her eyes closed, breathing only shallowly. When she started to grow cold he built a fire in the hearth, and in the moments before he came back to her she seemed almost dead. He carried the fox over to the fire, and slowly her breathing began to return. She stayed cold, though, and it was not until he held her close to his own heat that he began to feel warm blood shift slowly through her veins. While he held her, he made one more urgent prayer. He spoke to the moon, and vowed one deed to her if only the fox would live. Eventually exhaustion began to claim his own body, but he forced himself to stay awake to put more wood on the fire, which was the only light in the room because the moon refused to show herself from behind the thick clouds. Finally sleep did take him over and he closed his eyes with the fox pressed close to his chest. As soon as he slept, the droplets of rain began to fall, and quickly the dreams came.

It began with nothingness, and out of the void came a voice.

"I will not be put aside." It growled. From the voice came the familiar form of the woman, she was perched upon something, glaring down at him, although he could see no pedestal. "Every night that I have come to you, you have pledged yourself to me, and now you would dare to bring another into your home. When the sun rises, you will leave the fox under a willow tree to die, or I will leave and you will be left alone without my graces and my favors."

In his dream, the man was deeply troubled, for not only did the woman demand that he abandon the fox, but also that he would doom her forever. For if he left her by that tree, the Willow Man would come walking after sunset and scoop up her soul, never letting it reach the great realm after death. Although the female frightened him, he refused her demand.

"I would not curse this fox. She has saved my life and for that I would owe her a great debt."

The woman snarled. "Then I will destroy your home and your gardens, and you will starve in the winter when your walls grow cold!"

Before she could threaten further, a light began to seep into his dream. It was like a small hole had been torn in the fabric of nothingness. The light trickled in slowly at first and then grew quicker and quicker. When the rays began to ebb up to the woman, she hissed and leapt up into the void and was gone. When the silver light got so bright that the man had to squint, he realized that he could just barely see a form drifting out of it. She spoke, and there was pain in her voice, but it sounded beautiful and strong nonetheless. Her words made the light tingle around him like the smallest of kisses on his skin. "You have nothing to fear. From the terrors of the world I will protect you for as long as you hold me in return. Tomorrow when the night comes, sleep on a mat in your garden, and the rains will not touch it."

The man tried to squint into the light and see the details of the figure that spoke to him. He could just begin to make out the curves of her robe and the length of her hair when suddenly she was gone. His dream was left with darkness, and he remained sleeping alone until sunrise. Before his eyes even opened, he felt the hard rock in his stomach the feeling of trepidation that the fox had died during the night. When he felt her fur, though, it was warm, almost hot as if she were feverish. Her pulse was steady and her eyes were open and staring wide at him. He made a warm, thick broth from chicken stock, and put the bowl down next to her jaws. She lifted her head enough to lap it from the bowl.

He knew he would have to go out to the garden and harvest all day, but he was afraid to leave the fox alone inside, that she might die while he was away or that Sheba might attack her while she was weak. Instead, he wrapped his blanket around her and carried the fox out to the edge of the garden with him. His progress was slowed by occasionally stopping to pet and check on her, but each time he was reassured to find her a little better. By the end of the night, she even lifter her head to watch him approach. When he lifted her to take her inside, he could feel that the fox was no longer entirely limp in his arms. He fed her soft shreds of meat and then fell asleep again next to her.

The next day, Sheba skulked through the door behind him as he carried the fox outside. When the farmer began working, he heard the sound of the plants rustling and dirt being scraped at. He turned to find Sheba tearing up the plants and chewing at the stalks. He hurried behind her to collect what he could from the vegetables she destroyed, but he dared not try to shoo her away. All day he followed her, frantically gathering what he could, though she still stayed far away from the fox. By sunset she gave up and carried a field mouse into the house to eat. He brought the fox in and fed her as well, his body feeling worn and exhausted. After he had packed his vegetables from the day he carried the fox back down to lay by the garden. Black clouds amassed overhead, and before he could sleep the rain began. He looked up at it with worry, but before he could fear he realized that none of the droplets were touching his plants. The water fell harder and harder but still nothing. He sat with the fox in his lap and watched the rain. Even when it began to collect in puddles and rivulet down towards his vegetables the water split and diverged off before it got near the first of his plants. In his sleep he had no dreams, but felt a comforting warm softness pressed up against him, and heard the beautiful voice whisper in his ear, too quiet for him to hear the words.

When the man woke, the fox was already up. Now she could support herself. She lay on her stomach, lifting her head up off the ground. He ventured inside to bring her food. When he came back out, thought, she was lying in the same place but now eating a squirrel. He ate the food himself before beginning to gather again. After a few hours, Sheba came outside and began to pull at his plants again. Before she could do much damage, the fox hefted herself up off the earth and limped toward the cat. Every time the fox got close enough, Sheba would hiss and raise her hackles before running off. The fox paced after her all day until eventually the cat gave up and wandered off to hunt in the woods. Inside the house, the fox curled up in front of the fire and fell into a sound sleep even though the sun was not yet fully set. While the man sat at his table jarring his vegetables, there was a knock at his front door. The man froze. He could not count the weeks since there had last been a visitor to his home. He rose from his chair and opened the door to find a man standing alone on his doorstep. He had small, beady, weasel eyes under proudly arched brows. He was no traveler. He was dressed in the emperor's colors, and his horse stood just down the path.

"This house will be claimed in the name of our emperor." He stated without introduction. "Soldiers will be journeying through this land on their route for his next divine conquest, and they will be housed here. Clear your belongings out now." With that, he presented an official scroll and left.

The man stood in the doorway and watched him mount his horse and leave. When he stepped back inside, the fox was awake and watching him carefully. He was too troubled to lay in bed, and eventually fell asleep on the floor next to her. The rain did not come that night, and instead his dreams brought the moonlight and the woman. He saw her more clearly this time. She had auburn hair, and clear silver eyes. Two thin lines of blood dripped down from the shoulder of her robe, and when she spoke her round lips did not move. "Fear not the emperor's men. I will protect you from them and you will keep your home as long as you do what I say. Each night for the next three days you mush leave your house and walk until you reach the bank of the creek. Stay there until the moon rises above the line of the trees. Only then may you come back. Do this, and they shall not take your home." With this she drifted off, and the man was left alone again.

The next day the fox guarded the field while the man gathered more of his crops. Sometimes she would stop and sit down next to his feet while he worked before moving back off to sniff for danger. With the exception of a limp in her front right leg, she seemed to be healed. While he worked, the man contemplated on his relief. He felt more than just glad that the fox had lived because of the deed she had done for him. Already, he could not imagine life without her, who, for some unattainable reason, made him feel happy. Sheba, however, would still not let him approach her no matter how much he tried to coax. She spent her time wandering in the forest like a wild thing, constantly brining back more bloody prey than she could eat.

He stopped working just a little before sunset so he could carry in his harvest for the day. He was surprised that the fox did not go to follow him when he turned toward the door. He had quickly grown accustomed to her presence at his heels, and did not want to stand in the dark alone without her nearby. When he tried to pick her up to carry her outside, she jumped away from him. Hurt, he walked to the creek by himself, more worried by the fox shunning him than he was about the approach of the men to take his home. When he got to the water, he sat by the bank and watched the sun set.

Moments after the sun was down, two men dressed in the emperor's colors banged upon the door. When it was not answered at first they banged again and shouted.

"Come out, farmer, and serve our lord, else we will be forced to break down this door!" The man who spoke was larger, and his bald head shone even in the gloom. With him stood the weasel-eyed man. This time the door was opened, and both men were struck silent for a moment. Behind it was not the farmer, but a woman with pale skin like cream and long auburn hair. Her eyes flashed silver at them, and her lips the color of ripe plums moved to speak.

Despite the fact that she looked like, and held herself as if she were royalty, she knelt before them as she said "Oh most honorable soldiers, I am graced with your presence upon my humble retreat." Her beautiful voice tumbled over them like water over pebbles.

The larger bald man hissed quietly at the other, but the woman's fox ears from beneath her hair were still able to hear him say "You told me this was but the hovel of a farmer. Clearly this is the abode of a noblewoman. If she knows the emperor she will contact him and we will be hunted!"

The fox woman smiled but kept her head down so they could not see. Raising her face back up to them, she pleaded with her eyes. "The man who lives in the shack deep in the woods and comes to help gather my harvest told me that my home is to be claimed for the empire. I have not yet been able to pack all of my belongings alone. Please grant me one more day so I might finish." Now she stood, and with a fox's smile pulled coins from within her robe. She pressed them into the hands of the weasel man, and felt the shock through his body when she touched him. "Please accept these in return for your troubles."

The man answered her with a slight tremble in his voice. "We will postpone the emperor's wishes for another day, though it will bring his anger upon us. Tomorrow we will have to return." With that they left, and after the moon was above the trees, the man came home. He saw footprints on his doorstep, but his house was untouched. The only thing he found amiss was one long red hair that had been caught on the doorframe. He held it up to the coat of the fox, and only confirmed what he already believed. The color of each was the same. The fox lay her head in his lap while he petted her.

When he slept that night, the woman came to him in his dream again, but this time he was allowed to see her. He was struck by her beauty and found himself unable to use his voice at all. Peeking from her hair, he saw her red fox ears, which twitched once while she spoke. "I have saved your life and in return you have cared for mine. Now I will save your home and harvest, but do not forget your promises. You owe the moon one deed, and also you must continue to leave your house for two more days at sundown and not return until the moon rises above the trees."

After a long silence, the man found his voice. "Why is it that you have come to me? Out of all the farmers in all the fields, why?"

At first the woman just smiled. He caught his breath when she moved in close to him and put her hand on the center of his chest. "Because you and I beat with the same heart," she answered. Before she left, she kissed him once.

The fox was still sleeping when he opened his eyes, and he regretted have to move and risk waking her up. Still, the harvest had to be collected. Her deeds would be of no good if he died of starvation in the winter. By the time he was walking to the field, the fox was awake and padded out next to him. Again she guarded him, and he stopped occasionally to pet her and spoke to her while he worked. He felt his heart grow big with feeling for the fox woman every time he looked at her.

In the evening he left his house, this time not upset when the fox remained by the fire. Just after sundown came the knock again at the door. This time when she opened it, her robe was loose around her, and she watched the two men's eyes grow big as they stared at the skin below her neck. She knelt before them again, this time letting her robe fall further from her chest as she greeted them. "My lords, it is unfortunate that you have arrived under such circumstances. After your first visit, the farmer has abandoned me, and I have been all alone. I know the pressure of your work, but won't you first come inside and drink with me so I might have the pleasure of your company before I must leave?'

The men exchanged eager looks and agreed. She sat on a mat between them, and poured them both drinks, letting her skin brush so gently against theirs as she did, and sometimes while she spoke she let her thigh press against them for just a moment. The strength of the drink made both men feel a bit bleary, and they found they could concentrate only on the movement of her breast as she breathed. As the moments wore on, the three found themselves lying on the mat. Once the men began to undo the ties of her robe, she spoke again.

"Without the farmer's help, I am yet unable to move all of my belongings. Please tell me you will allow me one more day before I must leave my home."

Through their grunts and harsh breathing, the men agreed. "One more day."

The men left minutes before the farmer returned. Again, he was pleased to find his home intact. Nothing was amiss but for one soldier's glove lying on the floor. The fox picked it up with disgust and threw it in the fire. She then laid down and proceeded to clean herself for over an hour, licking herself feverishly. When she was finally done, she left the house, where the farmer heard her retching into the grass. Only when she was done would she let the farmer touch her.

The man did not know what magic the fox was using to save him, but as they laid down to sleep he thanked her, and she nuzzled him with her nose. That night in his dream, the woman said nothing, but she let him take her into his arms, and in his dream he also slept with the fox woman all night. When he woke he laid just as he had in his mind, with the fox's warmth pressed against him.

While he worked his field on the third day, the fox again prowled for danger. Sheba returned from her hunts in the woods and perched in a tree above him. While he bent over his carrots, thoughts he did not expect began to enter his mind. He knew now that he loved her, yes, but did she truly love him back? Perhaps this was all some sort of trickery that was being played on him. She was a fox, after all, the slyest of all creatures. He vowed that he would find out for sure that night.

When the work for the day was done, he quickly packed his vegetables and left for the stream. He did not sit on the bank. This time he doubled back through the woods to the front of the house so he might see when the men approached. He hid behind a tree when he heard the clatter of hooves, and stared when his fox woman opened the door. It was the first time he had seen her as a human outside of his dream. She knelt before the men a third time, and this time said only flatly "Sirs, allow me to have one more day before I must leave."

They laughed quietly before responding. "We have given you enough days. It is time."

Before they could move, the fox woman attacked. Her nails, sharp as talons, tore through the artery in the weasel-eyed man's leg, and he fell howling before he died. Before she could attack the other, though, she caught sight of the farmer hiding behind the tree. Her expression dropped with the realization of his betrayal, and the other man stabbed her just below the ribs. While the blood flowed down her robe, the woman grabbed him in an embrace and locked her teeth around his neck. He fell in a spray of blood as she herself collapsed. As he ran to her, the farmer caught sight of Sheba snickering and running off into the woods. He fell to his knees beside the fox woman, who still breathed despite the wound.

"You must take me and carry me to the cliffs and lay me down on the rock," she told him. "I must lay there alone until the full moon rises tomorrow night, when the winds will carry me away. You must be with me on the cliff then, and journey with me, or we will be lost to each other forever." The man picked her up and carried her through the darkness of the woods and laid her down on the cliff. Before leaving, he kissed her once and promised her he would come to her at moonrise.

As he walked back to his home and laid himself down, he could feel only his own grief. Still, sleep claimed him as the rain began to pour. In his unconscious state, Sheba prowled up to his bed and lay down upon his chest. In his dream, the dark-haired woman came again. Her face broke into a wide, mocking grin, and she laughed and hissed at him.

"I warned you that you would betray me, and you disregarded my words. Then I promised that you could walk only one path, and this promise I will keep. You will suffer the path you have chosen, and you will follow it alone."

Many, many hours later, Sheba crawled off of the man's chest. He awoke suddenly with a start, confused at the darkness that surrounded him. The man could not tell if he had slept only a few hours or for a full day. He ran as swiftly as he could to the cliffs over the lake to find the fox woman. When he came upon them, though, she was not to be seen. At the edge of the rock, he discovered only a few tufts of red fur that blew away before he could touch them.

The next day, the man harvested what he could from the plants in his flooded field, for the fox's actions would have done no good if he ran out of food in the winter.