White Fox

by Chen Jiatong

  A single window was shedding the warm yellow light Dilah had seen from the trees. Through the frost on the glass, Dilah could make out a table set with several dishes. A pretty woman stood next to the table, holding a baby. She had a narrow face, deep-blue eyes, and dark hair, and wore a large striped sweater with a huge hole in one of the arms. A blond man with a slight build sat on one side, gobbling up the food on his plate. His hair was messy. Dilah thought he looked disheveled but kind. As he shoveled food into his mouth, he made faces at the baby in the woman’s arms. The woman smiled at the child, then turned to the man, whispering something.

  They look like a happy family, Dilah thought. He warily approached the house, wondering whether he might be able to steal some food scraps from the outside bins.

  Just then, the wooden door to the cottage creaked open. A beam of light unfurled like a shining carpet throughout the never-ending darkness of the forest. The man stepped out, wearing a faded wool coat. The light from the door elongated his shadow. He picked up a pail from beside the door and was just about to head back inside when his eyes fell on Dilah. Instinctively, Dilah took a few steps back.

  “You’ll never believe this, Lily, come quick!” the man called toward the house in surprise, blowing white puffs of breath.

  “What? Oh, Mideo!” Lily came outside with the baby in her arms, gasping when she saw Dilah. “It’s so beautiful!” Her eyes were as round as saucers.

  “It’s rare to see an Arctic fox around these parts. This little fellow must be lost.”

  “Wait—what’s that around its neck?” Lily asked, spotting Dilah’s leather parcel.

  “Hmm. Someone must have put it there!”

  “Could it be an abandoned pet from town?” Lily asked.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone in town keeping an Arctic fox,” Mideo said, perplexed. “In fact, I’ve never heard of anyone keeping an Arctic fox!”

  “It’s strange,” Lily said, walking slowly toward Dilah, eager to get a better look at the package that hung from his neck.

  Dilah took a few large steps back, his eyes fixed on the woman’s every move. He knew they didn’t mean any harm, but he wasn’t going to let them touch the moonstone.

  “It seems like it doesn’t want us to get too close. We have to help it, though—it’s freezing out here,” Lily said, turning around and going inside.

  “Shall we give it the leftover chicken from tonight? It looks like it’s starving,” Mideo said.

  In a few minutes, Lily and Mideo returned without the baby, carrying a plate stacked with meat and bones.

  Lily set the plate carefully onto the snow beneath the window. Dilah eyed the food, the delicious smell wafting into his nostrils as the cold wind blew. He was salivating. He glanced up at the couple, waiting for them to go back inside. He didn’t trust them—not yet.

  “Let’s go. It looks scared,” Mideo said, turning to Lily, then heading back into the house and gently closing the door behind them.

  Dilah threw himself at the meat and wolfed it down so quickly that he barely even tasted it. He hardly noticed the two sets of eyes staring at him from the window above.

  He chewed the meat from the last bone and burped in satisfaction. He was warmer now, and he could already feel his legs flooding with strength. He licked his snout and looked around. At some point, the light in the window had gone out, leaving behind only the silvery darkness and stillness. Dilah circled the stone cottage, feeling emboldened. He came upon a small road, the snow imprinted with layers of tire tread marks. This probably leads to a town, he thought, or wherever the humans go for supplies. Behind the stone cottage, there was a thatched shed, its roof covered with thick snow. Dilah followed Mideo’s and Lily’s footprints through the open door. There was no wind inside, so it was noticeably warmer. In the darkness, Dilah made out stacks of wood that the couple probably used for cooking and heating the fireplace. There was an old motorcycle too, and a broken wooden cabinet.

  He stretched a bit, then found a comfortable pile of straw and lay down, curling into a ball, shielding his eyes with his big bushy tail.

  The next morning, Dilah opened his eyes and stared in a daze at his surroundings, lit up in the soft gray light of dawn. Hearing the crunch of footsteps on the snow outside, he poked his head out of the shed and looked around. Mideo had just come back from the forest, wearing a thick cotton cap and the same faded coat from the night before. You could see the white fog of his breath, and his whole face was red from the cold. For reasons even Dilah himself didn’t understand, a sense of kinship lured him out of the shed.

  Mideo stopped and smiled at him. “Aha—when I saw your little paw prints this morning, I knew you hadn’t left. You must’ve hidden in the shed, yes?” He chuckled. “It’s not a good idea for you to stay here—you need to go home as soon as you can!”

  Dilah leaned slightly forward, peering kindly at Mideo. Why isn’t it good to stay here? he wanted to ask. He thought it as loudly as he could, but Mideo clearly couldn’t read his mind.

  “Where on earth did you come from?” the man wondered aloud, gazing sympathetically at Dilah. “Are you hungry? Don’t worry—Lily’s whipping up breakfast! I’m sure we can find some more leftovers for you.”

  Mideo strode into the cottage. The kitchen light was on, and Dilah walked over to the window and peeked inside. Lily was busy slicing bread at the table, while Mideo stood beside her, trying to soothe the crying baby in his arms. Through the glass, Dilah could just about make out the sounds inside.

  “Is the little fox still here?” Lily asked as she sliced.

  “Yup. It spent the night in the shed. It seems to like it here.” Mideo looked at the baby he was holding.

  “Put that old blanket down on the floor of the shed—it’ll be warmer than straw on its own.” Lily placed the sliced bread on a plate and turned around, reaching for the jam in the cupboard. “Ah! Can you get Leo to quiet down? My head’s about to explode.” She frowned. Now the baby was crying even harder. Maybe Mideo was holding him wrong.

  “Surely you’re not thinking of keeping the fox as a pet?” Mideo joked. “We shouldn’t keep it here, really. It’s a wild animal.”

  “It’s freezing out there. We can’t just ignore it, we have to help it,” said Lily, and Dilah felt a warm glow of gratitude spread all through his body. “Maybe when spring comes it’ll go on its own. Besides, what about that parcel around its neck? Wild animals don’t tend to have collars.”

  Mideo nodded thoughtfully as he rocked the crying baby. “Could it be something left by the original owner? An address? What do you think, baby Leo?” Mideo scrunched up his face comically. The baby stopped crying and studied him curiously.

  “It’s rather strange,” Lily said. “Anyway, you go ahead and eat. I’ll feed the baby.” She took little Leo. Mideo sat at the table and started eating.

  “If only it were a jewel hanging around its neck,” he said between bites. “We could use a little cash injection.” Dilah’s ears pricked up and he backed away slightly.

  Lily snorted. “I’ve never had any expectations of becoming rich!” She fed Leo his bottle, watching tenderly as his little face relaxed. When Lily spoke again, her voice was softer. “But if only you would let those bigwig timber merchants cut down a few pine trees, things could be a little easier …”

  “Lily, you know that’s impossible,” Mideo said gently, his face serious. “This is a national pine forest. It’s my duty to protect it!”

  Lily smiled. “I married you because you’re a good, honest man. I suppose if you allowed the trees to be cut down, then you wouldn’t be you. Besides, you and Leo are more than enough for me. What else could I ask for?”

  The sun rose from behind the forest, cloaking the silver trees in glittering gold. Birds chirped up a storm and smoke puffed from the cottage chimney. Dilah paced for a bit, then went back to lie down in the shed. He didn’t feel strong enough to continue on his journey, not just yet. Besides, hadn’t Mideo said something abo
ut leftovers?

  Sure enough, Mideo came out bundled up in his coat, one hand holding a plate, the other carrying a worn-out green blanket. He approached Dilah, who hurried nervously to the back of the shed, and spread the blanket out over the straw where Dilah had just been lying, gesturing that it was meant for him. Then he put the plate on the floor.

  Dilah waited until Mideo had left, sniffed the food, and dug in. The taste was different … sort of sweet, nothing like the lemming meat Dilah had eaten with his parents, or the fish Egg had brought him on the beach. It wasn’t nutty either. It was unlike anything he’d ever eaten before, but he quickly decided he liked it! He scoffed it down, then sprawled out on the soft, comfortable blanket. A feeling of contentment washed over Dilah—for the first time since Mama had died, he felt like he was home.

  In a matter of days, Dilah had packed on quite a bit of weight! He was living the high life, eating the family’s leftovers—brought to him by Mideo three times a day—and snoozing in the shed. Lily often dropped by with baby Leo in her arms. Dilah liked the baby, who cooed and squealed at him in excitement, clapping his chubby hands. Dilah put on a show, chasing his tail and clowning around in the snow until Leo and Lily were both in fits of giggles.

  Late one night, the sky was covered with black clouds. Outside the shed, there was only the howling of the cold wind and a darkness so thick you could cut it with a knife. The cottage light was off; the family of three were sleeping soundly in the pitch-dark. Countless tiny snowflakes drifted outside, whirling in the bitter wind. Dilah was also fast asleep—until, all of a sudden, he was startled awake by a loud noise. His eyes snapped open, and his ears perked up. He raised his head and listened.

  It was the rumble of an engine. A glimmer of light swept over the shed door. He crept out. A huge black truck crawled past the house and down the road, heading for the pine forest. Dilah cautiously trailed behind. The truck stopped near a cluster of towering pine trees and the doors opened. Driver and passengers hopped down from the front and back seats, one after another, five people in all. The one from the front seat was short and plump, with a small nose and beady eyes, and a cruel, hard expression on his face. He wore a tall black mink-fur hat and a black jacket that flapped open in the breeze. He was the spitting image of a fat black bat, Dilah thought. He stood at the head of the group, shining a flashlight among the pine trees while the other four men followed him.

  The cruel-faced man stopped, pointing to the tree that had the black top hat hanging from a broken branch. He stood on his tiptoes and plucked it down, shaking out the snow inside. “This is the one,” he said to the others. “I marked it last time I was here. The others around here are good too.”

  “Are these trees really all that valuable, Klaus?” one of the other men asked. He has a tired, worn face, Dilah thought, and he doesn’t look happy to be there in the forest. “I mean, is it worth sneaking around in the middle of the night just to steal a few trees?”

  “What? Of course! This is an extremely rare kind of pine! The material is uniform throughout, the texture is hard, the pliability is excellent—it’ll fetch a pretty penny on the black market!” Klaus patted the trunk. “Even if we only sell one, we’ll be set for life!” He twirled the top hat in one hand. Dilah narrowed his eyes at the bat-like man. He didn’t like him, not one bit.

  “But, sir …” the other man started hesitantly, “can’t we keep things aboveboard and come during the day instead? We could pay Mideo handsomely if the tree’s worth that much.”

  Klaus shook his head. “I’ve made him several offers, but he won’t budge. He’d rather watch this precious timber rot than allow me to buy it from him. Pity—but he leaves me no choice.” He threw down the top hat with a flourish. “OK, enough with the chitchat. Let’s get moving!”

  The men got to work. They took a chainsaw and rope out of the truck and tied the rope around the tree. The chainsaw stuttered to life, a horrible buzzing noise echoing through the forest. Dilah took several steps backward, his ears flattened, his heart pattering. He crouched in the snow, too frightened to move. When the saw came into contact with the tree trunk, the buzz grew louder and shriller. Dilah thought it sounded like a scream. After a few minutes there was an ear-splitting boom. The tall, ancient pine crashed to the ground, the vibrations rattling the snow from nearby trees. At that moment, a light went on in the cottage.

  “Hurry up, you good-for-nothings!” Klaus hissed.

  The cottage door creaked open. Mideo stepped out holding a flashlight, struggling with his coat.

  “Who’s there?” Mideo pointed the beam into the dark woods. Even from afar, Dilah could see the fear and anger on his ashen face. “Stop!” He ran toward the men, his breath pluming into the air, the flashlight beam casting wild shadows among the trees. Dilah shivered in the snow, afraid for Mideo but unsure of how to help. “Klaus?” Mideo said in disbelief as he reached the group. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop this at once!”

  “Good evening, Mideo. We meet again.”

  Mideo’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the pine tree lying on the ground. His entire body was trembling with rage.

  Klaus’s men kept sawing at a second tree, which was ready to fall any second.

  “Hold on! Stop! Stop!” Mideo gasped, charging at them.

  “We won’t stop. It’s too late for that,” Klaus said coldly. “You should have taken my original offer … but I am still willing to offer you some payment, as long as you promise not to—”

  “Stop!” Mideo wasn’t listening; he was tugging at the man holding the chainsaw with all his might, but the burly man shrugged him off. The second pine tree crashed to the snowy ground. Mideo looked on in despair. “No … stop …” he cried, but his voice was weakened with grief. Dilah watched as Mideo’s face hardened from despair to determination. He turned around and ran back toward the cottage.

  “He’s going to call the police! Stop him!” Klaus ordered his men.

  Bang!

  Dilah flinched in his hiding place. He watched, uncomprehending, as Mideo dropped to the ground with a thud. First he smelled blood. Then he saw the gun, white smoke curling from its muzzle, held outstretched in the hand of one of Klaus’s men. Slowly, the man lowered the weapon. Mideo lay as motionless as the fallen pine trees.

  Dilah sucked in a big gulp of cool air. He couldn’t bring himself to believe what was happening, but Mideo’s breathing was fading. Blood was oozing out from under his coat. They’d killed him and Dilah had done nothing.

  “No—no—” Lily had run out of the stone cottage when she heard the gunshot. Now she flung herself at Mideo’s fallen body and pulled at his coat. “No …” She hadn’t even glanced at the men gathered among the trees, at how Klaus had snatched the gun from his man’s hand.

  Dilah wanted to leap out and warn Lily, rescue her somehow. But before he had a chance, he heard two booming sounds. Lily slumped over, her hand clasping her husband’s.

  Everything was quiet. The snow continued to fall.

  Suddenly, baby Leo’s cries rang out from the cottage, louder and more heart wrenching than ever.

  Klaus shoved the gun back into the hands of the man who’d shot Mideo. “This will save us a lot of trouble in the long run. Go inside the house and see if anyone else is there. And disconnect the phone!”

  The man rushed into the cottage with his gun while the others loaded the trunks onto the truck. Little Leo was howling inside. Dilah’s heart was in his throat.

  The man stepped outside a few moments later. “There’s just the baby inside. Unless you …”

  “Hmm.” Klaus took a deep breath. Then he shook his head. “Let’s just leave it.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, wrapped his black jacket tightly around his body, and turned back toward the truck, deliberately bypassing Mideo and Lily.

  Dilah was now hiding near the truck. When he saw the men heading in his direction, he clumsily backed away, accidentally stepping on a branch. Snap.

  “Who’s t
here?” Klaus nervously called out.

  One of the men shone his flashlight on Dilah, breathing a sigh of relief. “It’s just a fox.”

  Terrified that they would shoot him too, Dilah spun around and dashed into the forest. But no one followed him.

  The truck sped off with a roar, leaving swirling snowflakes in its wake. Dilah walked over to Mideo and Lily. Their eyes were closed and they looked peaceful. He felt his own eyes sting. These two kind people, who’d made him feel at home for the first time since Mama had died, were no longer part of this world. But they’d left behind a spark: baby Leo.

  Leo was bawling at the top of his lungs now. Dilah bowed his head and emerged from the dark woods, the pine trees creaking softly in the breeze. He walked up the steps of the cottage, hesitated, then entered the building for the first time. It was warm inside and smelled of Mideo and Lily, of food and fire. The light was still on. Dilah padded toward the sound of crying, in the bedroom off the kitchen. Leo’s mother had wrapped him in swaddling clothes and placed him on the bed. His large eyes glistened with tears. His scrunched-up little face was flushed red. His arms and legs were twisted, trying to break free from the swaddling clothes.

  Dilah hopped up on the bed and looked at the teary-eyed baby, feeling a pang in his heart. He had blue eyes, just like his mother. Leo saw the fluffy fox approaching and abruptly stopped crying. Instead, he giggled, breaking into a wide, cheerful smile.

  Outside, the snow was coming down harder and harder, big flakes falling and melting against the bedroom window.

  Grief and anger gnawed at Dilah. This stone cottage was cut off from the world—there was no way he could leave poor orphaned Leo all alone with no one to care for him. Gripping the ribbon on the swaddling clothes with his teeth, Dilah lifted the baby off the bed and bolted out of the cottage, filled with determination. There was just one road here: the road that led to town. The only thing that Dilah could do to return the family’s kindness was to bring the baby there, where someone else could look after him.