by Chen Jiatong
Azalea was about to duck inside the den when a tiny yellow head popped out to see what was going on.
“Mom, you’re finally home! Did you bring breakfast?” Ankel asked.
“Get inside! That rascal’s dropped by!” Azalea snapped.
Ankel followed his mother’s gaze. When he saw Dilah, his face lit up.
“Hey, Dilah,” Ankel called out.
Dilah opened his mouth to greet Ankel, but didn’t get a chance.
“Get in, get in! Hurry on inside! Don’t let the rascal look at you!” Azalea ordered. But Ankel clearly didn’t want to go back inside. He didn’t budge.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Azalea asked.
“But—but—”
“There are no buts. Don’t fall for his tricks!”
Ankel drew himself up tall. “But I’m grown-up, Mom; I’m practically an adult. I know right from wrong. Other weasels my age have already left their parents and are living on their own. And I want to be friends with—”
“Child, you’re still young and naive. The outside world is full of danger. I’m worried you’ll have a hard time on your own. I want you to stay with me so I can take care of you.” It sounded to Dilah as though Azalea spoke from the bottom of her heart.
Ankel reluctantly lowered himself back inside the log. Although he understood why Azalea wanted to protect her son, Dilah felt angry at her. Why wouldn’t she give him a chance? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He liked Ankel and he happened to be a fox—what was wrong with that?
Over the next few days, Dilah stayed nearby. He rested and feasted on mushrooms and felt himself grow stronger, but Azalea’s prejudice toward him only increased. She kept Ankel inside as much as possible, and when he did go out, she watched him like a hawk. If they ran into Dilah, she’d quickly lead Ankel away, although Ankel would shoot him apologetic glances over his shoulder. Gradually, Dilah realized that Azalea’s love for her son was keeping him trapped. Until Ankel left home, he’d never be free.
One bright and beautiful morning, Dilah was wandering through the forest when he caught a whiff of something strange—it wasn’t a weasel, nor was it any of the other small creatures who lived in the forest. What was it? He followed the scent for a while before realizing he’d reached the path that led to Ankel’s home. As he drew close, he caught a whiff of blood and his heart started to beat faster. Was Ankel’s family in danger? He slowed down, tiptoeing among the trees. After a while, he heard movement. Through the leaves, he saw something that made his heart rise to his throat: a huge snow leopard standing beneath a tree, a cold, murderous glint in his eyes. Across from him, a timid animal lay on his back, trembling from head to toe: Ankel.
Azalea rarely let Ankel go out—what was he doing outside so early in the morning? What would happen if Dilah tried to rescue Ankel? The snow leopard was a sleek, muscled killer: Dilah would die if he tried to fight him. He hesitated as the leopard slowly closed in on the weasel, clearly enjoying toying with his prey.
Just then, a loud voice rang out.
“Ankel—Ankel—where are you?” Azalea angrily called. She continued, muttering to herself, “I can’t believe he slipped out while I was asleep! When will he learn? I told him to stay away from that fox. He’s up to no good—”
Azalea emerged from the undergrowth and froze at the sight before her.
“Ankel!” she screamed. Azalea didn’t hesitate for more than a second. She threw herself between Ankel and the snow leopard. Holding out her paws, she used her own body to shield her son’s. She was frightened out of her mind, yet brave enough to risk her own life to save her child.
“I’m begging you! Please don’t eat my child!” Azalea pleaded. “Eat me instead! I have more meat on me!”
“Scram, old weasel!” the snow leopard snarled. “I like my meat tender!” He crept toward the weasels, growling. His burning orange eyes were fixed on Ankel, who was hiding behind his mother.
“Eat me instead! I’m begging you! Have mercy—he’s still young. Let him go!” Azalea cried.
“Didn’t you hear me? Get lost!” The snow leopard licked his lips, expressionless, ready to lunge at Ankel. “Or I’ll kill you first and eat him next …”
Dilah glimpsed his own mother in Azalea. She too would’ve charged forward to protect him, without thinking about herself. He couldn’t let this happen! The leopard bared his teeth and Dilah sensed he was about to pounce …
“You’re the one who should get lost!” Dilah shouted, leaping out of his hiding place and snarling fiercely at the big cat, who was three times his size.
The snow leopard turned around to face Dilah, who tried very hard not to tremble under his fiery stare.
“Let them go, you big cowardly cat!” Dilah demanded, his voice quavering slightly.
“Oh? So you’re volunteering to take their place?” The snow leopard narrowed his eyes. “Fox, being a busybody can kill you …”
“I’m not afraid of you!” Dilah squeaked. Peering past the leopard, he silently willed Azalea to run—but she was frozen in shock, her eyes fixed on the spot where the leopard had been standing moments ago. Ankel had already disappeared, perhaps to fetch help.
“You’re not afraid of me? Then what on earth are you afraid of?” the snow leopard asked, sounding a little offended.
“Umm …” Dilah racked his brain for the most ferocious animal in the world. Glancing past the leopard, he noticed that Azalea too had now disappeared. He felt a surge of relief, but couldn’t help hoping the two weasels hadn’t left him to die …
“Well? Can’t think of a more fearsome creature than me?” the leopard said in a superior tone. “I thought not.”
“Polar bears!” Dilah blurted. “Even you must be scared of those.”
The snow leopard scoffed. “You think I’m afraid of a big silly lug like a polar bear? Let me tell you, the only animal I fear in this world is the hunter! Now, enough of this. I’m hungry.”
The snow leopard charged at Dilah and everything slowed down. The leopard’s front and back legs took turns forcefully gripping the ground, his thick paws stirring up clouds of dead leaves. His long tail was raised high and the lines of his silhouette were graceful and angular. He kicked hard and leapt through the air, and Dilah had a heartbeat to snap out of his trancelike state and leap aside. His own body felt sluggish, but he did it, feeling the heat of the leopard’s body ruffling against his fur. The snow leopard growled and swiped at Dilah with his huge paw, claws out like tiny knives. Dilah jumped aside again, dodging the claws by a whisker. The leopard roared, a murderous fire in his eyes.
Dilah ran.
The snow leopard was faster, but Dilah was small and nimble. He ducked behind a tall pine on instinct. The snow leopard sprang to the left of the trunk; Dilah ran to the right. The leopard chased Dilah to the right, and Dilah went left, running circles around the tree. Losing patience, the snow leopard scaled the tree trunk and peered down at Dilah with narrowed, triumphant eyes.
Before Dilah could move, the snow leopard leapt from above, crushing Dilah beneath his paws.
Dilah desperately fought to break free. He knew exactly what would happen next: The snow leopard’s pointed fangs would pierce his throat … He felt his heart pounding beneath the leopard’s paw. He thought of his mama and papa and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting to die, feeling the moonstone’s weight around his neck. But death didn’t come. The snow leopard was oddly still. Dilah opened his eyes. The animal’s ears had perked up, straining to make out a noise in the distance.
It was a dog’s bark. The snow leopard studied the dense trees, panic sweeping through his eyes.
“Hunter … ?” the leopard whispered.
Woof woof, woof! The barks grew louder. The snow leopard lifted his weight slightly from Dilah’s chest, claws retracting.
“Hunter! Run!” a familiar voice shouted.
The snow leopard shivered and jumped away from Dilah, who scrambled to his feet, unsteady but unharmed. Drooling, the snow leopa
rd eyed him, reluctant to let his prey escape, but chose to preserve his own life. He spun around and vanished into the trees.
Dilah released a deep breath. His heart was still thumping hard but his legs were trembling—he couldn’t run. Where was the hunter? He had to hide!
“Dilah!” It was Ankel, his head popping out from behind a tree. He was smiling. Dilah frowned—what was so funny? Then Ankel barked … and Dilah understood: The barking hadn’t come from a hunting dog at all, but from Ankel! Azalea was the one who’d shouted “Hunter!” She emerged from behind the tree, glancing nervously around the clearing, as if she expected the snow leopard to return at any moment.
Ankel walked over to Dilah. Despite his smile, he was clearly shaken.
“Thank you!” Dilah and Ankel said to each other at the same time.
“Ankel—Ankel—my child!” Azalea rushed forward, hugging Ankel tightly. “My darling—I was worried to death—I thought we … I love you very, very much.” Her eyes were full of tears. Dilah felt a tug in his own throat and lowered his gaze.
“It’s OK, Mom. It’s all right.” Ankel patted Azalea’s back.
Azalea glanced up at Dilah. “What a brave fox! I doubted you before, but today you stepped forward and saved us both! How can I ever thank you?”
“No … thank you,” Dilah said, feeling a little bashful. “If you and Ankel hadn’t driven away the snow leopard, I’d be in his stomach by now.”
“If you hadn’t distracted him in the first place, I’d have been torn to pieces!” Ankel cut in.
“Ankel’s right. You saved us first,” said Azalea, smiling. “Now, I think we could all use some breakfast, couldn’t we?” She turned back toward the hollow trunk, leaving Dilah and Ankel alone in the clearing.
“You were great!” Dilah said to Ankel. “You scared away the snow leopard—it was amazing! How did you know what to do?”
“It’s no big deal. It was a piece of cake.” Ankel smiled bashfully. “The snow leopard himself told us how to make him go away. He said: ‘The only animal I fear in this world is the hunter.’ I’ve heard the hunting dog tons of times and I knew I could do a good impression.”
“When I heard the barking, I really thought it was a hunting dog!”
They made their way back to the den, and just as they arrived, Azalea emerged, carrying a mountain of food in her arms: bunches of carrots, wild mushrooms, a couple of fish caught from the lake, and even a few shiny clumps of algae. “Breakfast time,” she announced, placing the feast on the ground between the two friends. “Dig in!”
Dilah and Ankel spent the whole day playing and chatting, until Azalea called her son to bed. Dilah settled down nearby, tired after the day’s excitement—but as he was falling asleep, he heard soft footsteps, the rustling of paws on fallen leaves. He opened his eyes and found a pile of nuts in front of him. He looked around curiously, then saw a fluffy ball of yellow creeping away, back to the hollow tree trunk, as if afraid of waking him up.
“Ankel?”
The little weasel stopped and glanced back, smiling. “I gathered those in the forest. I’ve been saving them a long time. I hope you’ll enjoy them.”
A feeling of warmth washed over Dilah.
The next morning, Ankel asked Azalea if he could go play with Dilah again. After rattling off a long list of things to watch out for, Azalea agreed. Ankel told Dilah he wanted to show him a special place, somewhere that was both exciting and filled with tasty treats. Dilah only half believed him.
They walked in the direction of the rising sun. After a while, they emerged from the forest. They passed the emerald-colored lake Dilah had seen from the mountaintop, the clear ripples glimmering. A team of ducks floated on the surface, and a few cows stood at the edge, drinking the water.
Gradually, small earthen houses sprang into view, one after another, with rows of crops neatly lined up behind them. Dilah stopped and looked around anxiously.
“Why’d you stop?” Ankel asked, glancing back.
“How … how could you bring me to a place where there are humans?” Dilah’s voice trembled with fear. He was beginning to regret coming out with Ankel. The memory of all that had passed with the woodsman and his family was still fresh in his mind.
“Are you scared? The place I was talking about is around here,” Ankel said, completely unconcerned.
“Here?” Dilah repeated. He felt his hackles rise and swished his tail uneasily. “I wouldn’t dream of going inside a place where humans gather. Not anymore.”
“Don’t worry, Dilah. It’s a small trail and well hidden. No humans will see us,” Ankel said confidently. “C’mon, this way. Keep up with me!” He leapt into a field of low crops.
Dilah didn’t want to end up lost, so he reluctantly followed his friend.
“Keep your head down,” Ankel whispered as they weaved through fields, hiding beneath the tall plants.
Chickens clucked nearby and Dilah nearly jumped out of his fur when he heard a dog barking. He could smell humans nearby now, and he shivered in fear. Dilah and Ankel pushed through a tall bush, lurking in its shadow. Ankel clearly knew his way around. A few moments later, he led Dilah to the side of a small earthen house. Dilah heaved a deep sigh, trying to calm his pounding heart.
“We’re here!” Ankel cheerfully announced.
Dilah sized up the mud-yellow structure. It looked similar to the other earthen houses in the area. The only difference was that various animal skins hung from frames in the yard: wolf skins, mink skins, rabbit skins, as well as numerous other skins that he didn’t recognize. He was in no mood to find out. His heart thumped ever harder against his chest as frightening smells assaulted his nose—smells of blood and fear.
“What is this place?” Dilah asked.
“A hunter’s house, of course,” Ankel calmly answered.
“What are you thinking?” Dilah stepped back in horror. “How could you—”
“Don’t be afraid, Dilah,” the weasel said. “Do you remember the first time we met? You asked me where those apples came from—well, I’d stolen them from this hunter’s house. I had an unforgettable feast here. Words can’t even begin to describe all the scrumptious things I ate in this special place. We must try our luck today!”
Ankel’s definition of a “special place” was very different from Dilah’s. He’d rather sit down to dinner with Carl and the blue foxes than stay here one second longer.
“Ankel, we’re going to get ourselves killed. Take me back!” Dilah hissed.
But Ankel waved a paw dismissively. “We’re here now, so we might as well look for a bite to eat! Besides, the hunter’s not home during the day—trust me. The only one home is that pesky dog. Look, I’ll go in and find us some food. All you have to do is stand guard,” Ankel said breezily.
“What? There’s a dog? A hunting dog?” Dilah was even more afraid now.
“Of course! Didn’t I say I’d heard him tons of times?” Ankel pointed. “Look, there he is. He’s called Toby.” Dilah peeked around the side of the house, into the front garden. Sure enough, he spotted a hunting dog lying against the door of the earthen house. The dog had a shaggy gray coat. He was huge, about the size of the snow leopard, with a thick chain hanging around his neck.
Ankel appeared to read the terror on Dilah’s face, because he softened his tone. “Listen, Dilah, you just hide right here in this tall grass, and keep an eye out for anyone who comes toward the house.”
“What should I do if someone comes?” Dilah asked.
“That’s easy. Do what I did yesterday—bark like a dog to warn me. That way, they won’t get suspicious. When I hear your warning, I’ll escape through the back window. But don’t worry—no one will come.”
A vivid picture formed in Dilah’s mind: a hunter discovering a fox hiding in the tall grass outside his home, barking his fool head off like a dog. He stared at Ankel in disbelief.
Ankel continued, “One more thing. If you have an accident or come across something dangerous,
don’t worry about me. Run away. Got it?”
“What about you?”
“Relax. I’ve been here lots of times.” Ankel crept toward the house. “Good luck. See you soon!”
Ankel tiptoed right by the sleeping hound. Sensing movement, the dog opened his eyes and saw the weasel. He snarled and tugged at his chain, kicking up clouds of dust. But Ankel walked on, just outside the reach of the chain. The dog couldn’t get to him.
“Hush, Toby!” Ankel ordered, with a sparkle in his eye.
This made Toby even angrier. He growled louder, and strained against the chain until it was close to choking him. His bloodshot eyes bulged with the effort, but he couldn’t even reach one of Ankel’s paws. The dog barked furiously. Ankel smirked at Toby, deftly climbed onto a grain sack resting against the wall, and squeezed through the little window beside the door. Dilah anxiously waited out of sight, his heart pounding.
A moment later, the young fox heard footsteps approaching. He peered out over the tall grass, his stomach doing somersaults, his fur standing up. A middle-aged man was heading for the house, a sack slung over his shoulder. He had curly brown hair and a steely gaze, and he was wearing a thick coat and sturdy boots. Dilah felt a flash of anger. Ankel had promised this wouldn’t happen! But the anger was quickly drowned by terror. He knew firsthand how cruel humans could be. What would the hunter do to Ankel if he found him? I can’t let that happen!
Dilah pulled himself together and took a deep breath. “Woof woof! Woof woof woof woof!” he yelped. But that pesky hound was barking too—how was Ankel supposed to hear? Dilah’s attempts were completely drowned out by the big dog’s.