Fox's Feud (18 page)

‘Shall we take a look around Scarface’s old territory?’ Friendly suggested.

Bold recognized the reason for the suggestion. He smiled at his brother cub. ‘There’s plenty of time for everything, you know,’ he said. ‘The young vixens over there aren’t likely to get paired off all at once. I want to see a bit more of the world first.’

‘The Reserve, you mean?’ Friendly asked. ‘Oh yes, it’s true there’s a good deal of it we haven’t been able to explore.’

‘Not just the Reserve,’ Bold answered impatiently. ‘There’s a whole world
outside
White Deer Park. Why confine ourselves within the Park’s boundaries?’

Friendly looked at him in amazement and in some trepidation. ‘You’d go outside the Park?’ he whispered.

‘Why not?’

‘What of all the dangers? It’s hostile country out there. Why did our parents leave it to settle here?’

‘Hostile!’ Bold gave a short laugh. ‘It hasn’t been exactly amicable inside here recently! And, in any case, if you can go out of the Park you can always come back in again.’

‘If you’re still alive to do so,’ Friendly said pessimistically.

‘Oh, don’t exaggerate,’ Bold said. ‘I can’t imagine that you’re risking your life as soon as you step through the fence.’

The two cubs looked at each other intently. They both knew they had to separate. ‘Well . . .’ Bold began.

‘We will see you again, won’t we?’ Friendly asked, almost timidly.

‘Of course you will, you chump,’ Bold answered him. ‘I shan’t suddenly just disappear.’

Friendly nodded. ‘Look after yourself,’ he murmured.

‘You too.’

They stood a moment longer and then parted without a further word. Friendly went half-heartedly in the direction of the stream. But Bold’s steps were eager and vigorous. He sniffed the air and then broke into an easy trot. His eyes searched ahead of him for the Park boundary.

Friendly was overtaken by dusk before he had gone far and decided to catch himself some supper. Bold had been right in one respect. There was plenty of time for this mating business.

After he had eaten, he found himself a spot to sleep. He felt listless and rather lonely. There would be no returning to his parents’ earth any more. Even Charmer would be no longer there. She and Ranger would be searching for a new home. He yawned once or twice and then curled himself up head to tail, listening to the night noises. In a few minutes he was asleep.

Bold ran on, exhilarated by his independence. He crossed the Park, running silently through the grazing White Deer herd, to the fence which bordered open country. Then he stalked along its length, looking for an exit. He found a hole and squeezed through it. He paused, snuffling the air, on the threshold of a new world. His ears were pricked to catch any new sound. But he detected no strange scents, no strange noises. He ran on through the night.

Early the next morning, Friendly awoke to see Charmer and Ranger standing over him. He rose to his feet, wagging his tail in greeting, and giving his coat a vigorous shake.

‘Ranger and I have been seeking a spot for our den,’ Charmer explained. ‘We’re on the way to look over the area on the other side of the stream. Will you come too?’

‘You never know what you might find there,’ Ranger added, with a chuckle.

‘I’ll come gladly,’ Friendly said. ‘It’s new territory to me.’

‘Have you seen Bold?’ Charmer asked.

‘Yes. He was with me for a while,’ answered Friendly. ‘Then he went off to explore further afield.’ For some reason – perhaps a sort of loyalty – he did not mention Bold’s intention of going outside the Reserve.

Charmer nodded. ‘He’s a law unto himself,’ she said.

The three cubs arrived at the banks of the stream. Already Scarface’s mate and many of Ranger’s relatives had gathered and were continuing the search for Adder under the direction of Blaze. Ranger looked a little awkwardly at Charmer who had obviously guessed their purpose.

‘I’ll tell them what I said,’ he whispered to her. Then he called to Blaze. ‘You’re searching for nothing!’ he cried. ‘The snake is dead!’

The foxes stopped and looked at him.

‘Dead? What do you mean?’ Blaze wanted to know.

‘
I
killed him,’ Ranger lied unblinkingly. ‘Last night – I found him.’

‘But how do you know if it was the culprit?’ questioned Blaze.

Ranger thought quickly. ‘We had – er – a little talk,’ he replied. ‘I made sure before I despatched him.’

For a long while Blaze stared at him. Then, at last, he said: ‘Well, it seems we’re wasting our time.’ He paused. ‘Our mother wants us to dispose of Father’s carcase,’ he went on.

‘Then do as we did before,’ Ranger suggested, ‘when our cousin was killed. Push him out into the water.’

Friendly was watching the other foxes with the utmost interest. He had marked out one vixen cub as particularly appealing. He glanced at his companions. ‘Why don’t we cross over?’ he asked.

They swam across and Ranger assisted Blaze in pushing the remains of Scarface into the stream. The current caught the body, twisting it round in a spiral as it slowly transported it downstream. The dead leader’s mate stood on the brink to watch it go.

‘I shall bear no more cubs,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘I am old in spirit if not in body.’ She turned and gave an appraising look at Charmer and Friendly. ‘Well, it’s your
life now that matters,’ she said to Ranger. ‘Times change. For all his faults, we shan’t see his like again.’

‘No,’ agreed Ranger. ‘We can be quite sure of that. But come, Mother, won’t you return home now? You look tired.’

‘What does it matter where I go?’ she muttered dispiritedly. ‘My life is as good as over. I want no other mate.’

Ranger said no more but led Charmer away from the stream into the area that had recently been the exclusive domain of Scarface. Friendly let them go and began to mingle with the other foxes, edging as close as he could to the vixen cub that had caught his eye.

She seemed to be aware of his presence for she started to look everywhere but at Friendly, in a confused sort of way.

Scarface’s mate turned slowly back, following in the wake of Ranger and Charmer. Blaze and the others followed behind her. Then, at intervals, the other foxes broke off from the main party to go about their separate lives. In the end only Ranger’s mother, Blaze, Friendly and the vixen cub were left.

‘My mother naturally feels aggrieved,’ Blaze said, turning to Friendly. ‘But my father’s death means an end to the fighting and the – the rivalry.’

‘I’m glad you see it in the same way,’ Friendly replied happily, aware that the vixen cub was watching him. ‘My parents named me Friendly and it’s in that manner I like to live. The Park should produce no enmities. You were born here. So was I. It’s our home and that’s all that matters.’

‘It is indeed,’ affirmed Blaze.

Friendly wished he would go on ahead with his mother. Presently Blaze seemed to sense this. ‘Well, we shall probably see each other around from time to time,’
he said. ‘I don’t know where you’re making for. But I must leave you now.’

He moved away deliberately, and Friendly felt very grateful.

‘My cousin is very diplomatic,’ said the vixen cub shyly. ‘I’m glad to talk to you.’

‘I wanted to make your acquaintance ever since I saw you by the stream,’ declared Friendly. ‘What should I call you?’

‘My name is Russet,’ she replied.

By break of day, Bold had travelled a long way from the Park. He felt brave and powerful and equal to anything. In the early morning light the skylarks rose from their grassy roosts high into the sky, pouring out their burbling song. The country seemed empty, wide and challenging.

Bold slaked his thirst from a puddle of moisture and felt a bracing breeze unsettle his fur. This was the place to live. No narrow limiting boundaries for him! He travelled on tirelessly, and it was several hours before he saw the first human. Even then it was only a solitary walker with a small dog – smaller than Bold. The stout cub laughed at the sight and raced fearlessly past the figures with his yapping bark. Why had his parents deserted such a world? Here you could be your own master. He galloped on: on towards the horizon.

Over the next few weeks the new peace and security of the Park did turn many of the animals’ thoughts to other things. They did not seek out each other as they had in the old times and, alone in his set, Badger began to regret his solitary ways. He missed the visits of Mole and wondered where his little friend had got to.

In his dark subterranean labyrinth, Mole was living a new life. He still collected and stored his beloved worms for his appetite was as voracious as ever, but something had occurred one day that had turned his world of tunnels and meals upside down. During one of his periodic feasts, he had heard a scratching noise – a noise
of small feet coming, not from above, but from alongside his tunnel. He had frozen into stillness, a half-eaten worm hanging limp from his sharp little teeth. The noise came nearer. Suddenly a hole appeared through the tunnel wall, and another mole’s pink snout pushed its way in.

The intruder pulled its body through the hole and spoke breathlessly. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said the creature. ‘It seems that my tunnel has sort of led me into – er – your tunnel.’

The voice was a female one, and Mole got quite flustered. ‘Qu – quite all right,’ he stuttered, nearly choking on the worm he had not finished eating. ‘I’m just having a meal. Er – would you like to eat a worm or two?’

‘Nothing I’d enjoy more,’ said the female, following Mole to his store. ‘Well,’ she said when she saw it. ‘I must compliment you on your choice. I’ve never seen such plump ones.’

Mole was delighted but tried not to appear so. ‘I am known as something of a connoisseur,’ he admitted nonchalantly. Soon they were eating together. ‘I haven’t seen you before,’ Mole said.

‘No,’ replied his visitor. ‘It’s probably just coincidence. I was born very near here last summer. My parents were killed soon after. I’ve never strayed far from the area.’

‘Well, well,’ said Mole. ‘How strange. Er – do have another worm.’

‘These really are delicious,’ she enthused again. ‘Do you have a name?’ she asked suddenly.

‘My friends just call me Mole,’ he answered. ‘That’s because none of them
are
moles.’ He tittered.

‘None of them moles?’ she asked in astonishment. ‘What do you call friends then?’

‘Oh – foxes, badgers, owls, that sort of thing,’ he exaggerated.

‘Oh – now you’re teasing me,’ she protested.

‘Not at all,’ he answered. ‘I’ll take you to see Badger now, if you don’t believe me. He’s my closest friend,’ he added a little boastfully.

‘How extraordinary!’ she exclaimed. ‘Don’t they try to eat you?’

‘Certainly not,’ Mole replied. ‘You see, my friends are rather special creatures.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, won’t you tell me more?’ She was all agog.

‘Of course, if you wish it,’ he said. ‘But you haven’t told me
your
name?’

‘You can call me Mateless,’ she said archly.

Mole gulped as she moved closer to him to listen. ‘Very well,’ he said nervously. ‘Er – well, about my friends.’

Then he told her all about the animals’ beginnings way, way away in Farthing Wood, of the wood’s destruction and how they had banded together to help each other on their long journey to safety. He might have made his part in the event a little more courageous than it actually had been, but that was only natural. Mateless was enthralled, and Mole was so captivated by her admiration of him that he completely forgot his nervousness, and grew tremendously in confidence.

The upshot was that Mateless never did return to her own tunnel and that was how Badger came to be feeling lonely.

Eventually, of course, Mole could wait no longer to introduce his delightful new friend to Badger, and decided one day that they must pay him a visit. So he led Mateless (who by now was feeling she should have a new name) down the connecting tunnel into Badger’s set.

They heard Badger snoring peacefully in his sleeping chamber and Mole went along to prepare his friend.

‘Oh! Hello, Mole!’ cried Badger, rousing himself, and
very pleased indeed to see the little creature. ‘Wherever have you been lately? You’ve quite neglected me.’

‘I must apologize,’ said Mole, ‘but I’ve had other business to attend to.’

‘Really? What sort of business?’

Mole giggled excitedly and told Badger to wait a moment. Then he went away and returned, bringing a very coy young female mole with him.

‘Goodness me! What have we here?’ exclaimed Badger, before he could stop himself.

‘My new acquaintance,’ Mole announced proudly.

‘Well, well, well,’ Badger rejoined. ‘Well I never! Er – enchanted to meet you,’ he added politely.

‘She’s called Mateless,’ Mole whispered.

‘How extraordinary,’ remarked Badger. ‘And is that what you call her, Mole?’

‘Well, actually, yes, I do,’ he admitted, recognizing the absurdity of the name.

‘It seems to me, then, that it’s time it was changed,’ Badger said pointedly.

‘What do you suggest? Badger, will you chose me one?’ Mateless whispered flatteringly.