Scary Stories for Young Foxes

by Christian McKay Heidicker

  TWO

  THE BADGER LUNGED and head-butted Uly, who went tumbling down the hill and flopped unconscious at the bottom. The badger muscled after him, but Mia clamped her teeth onto its stubby tail. Her mouth filled with slimy foulness, but she yanked back with all her might.

  The badger roared and rounded, chomping into her throat. The pain was bigger than any Mia had ever felt. She tried to yelp, but the badger’s jaws squeezed tighter, and Mia’s breath stopped short.

  She kicked with her back paws and caught the badger’s eye. Its jaws released. She tried to scamper away, but its fangs caught her by the tail. She heard the rip before she felt the sting. Her tail went cold.

  Mia slipped along the hill’s edge while the badger hurled itself after her, teeth grinding. The smell of her own blood made Mia light-headed, and the hill threatened to upturn beneath her paws. She shook the spots from her eyes and kept running.

  There was nowhere to hide on this hill. No mole burrows. No brambles. But now that Mia’s legs were a little longer, she could reach high spots a badger’s stubby legs could not.

  She wove sidelong through the scraggly branches until she could no longer feel its gray breath on her heels. She bounded over the lip of the hill, darted toward the tallest rock she could find, and leapt on top of it. She whirled and watched for the skull to come huffing over the hill’s edge.

  Her tail throbbed. Her heart could barely keep up with her breath.

  The badger wasn’t coming.

  Uly.

  Mia leapt off the rock and sprinted back to the hill’s edge. The badger was barreling toward her friend, who lay at the hill’s base, eyes closed, forepaw twitching.

  She would never reach him in time.

  “Uly!” she cried through the lashing rain. “Uly, wake up!”

  He didn’t stir. The badger went after him like a mudslide.

  Mia ran along the hill’s crest until she was right over them. She leapt. The hill fell away beneath her paws as she soared down, rain hissing past her ears. She struck the mud and then rolled, whipping through branches. On her final roll, she managed to get her paws underneath her and then bounded toward her friend.

  She realized she had never wanted anything more than for Uly to survive. She realized this as the badger seized him by the throat and shook his body like a loose rabbit skin.

  With one last leap, Mia caught the badger by the ear and ripped as hard as she could. The badger roared in pain, dropping Uly’s body. It thrashed blindly in every direction while Mia backed away.

  When the badger regained its senses, it fixed its black eyes on her, licking Uly’s blood from its gray teeth. Mia snarled and began to circle the creature, remembering her fighting lessons. Stand with your side facing the enemy. Keep your legs stiff and your hackles sharp. Try to get behind them.

  The badger lashed, and its fang caught Mia’s forehead. She stifled a cry but continued to circle. The badger attacked again, and Mia just managed to lift her paw in time to feel one of her claws ripped out. She screamed and limped away, wanting to put as much space between her and the badger as she could. But then she saw Uly lying in the mud, and she hesitated.

  “I wonder what it last ate,” the badger grumbled, licking its lips. “Hopefully not a shrew. I do hate shrews.”

  Blood trickled into Mia’s eyes. The badger was going to tear her apart, piece by piece.

  Thunder tore through the air and then faded … into a growl. Mia turned to find a shadow at the top of the hill. It leapt over her, and the badger recoiled, snarling and spitting at its new opponent.

  The badger distracted, Mia limped to the bottom of the hill. She found Uly under one of the scraggly branches. His tongue hung, bloody, out of his mouth.

  “Uly! Uly, please talk to me.”

  She licked the blood from his muzzle, and his eyes made the smallest of cracks. He hefted his head and sniffed at the badger’s gray drool on his coat. “Ugh. What stinks?”

  Mia laughed and then sobbed in relief.

  Uly’s muzzle clamped shut as he gazed beyond her toward the top of the hill. She followed his eyes. The fight was lit by lightning flashes. Jaws crunched ears. Claws sliced clouds of fur. Black droplets spattered the mud.

  It was a fox. A fox had saved their lives.

  “Should we help him?” Mia asked.

  When Uly didn’t answer, she turned and found him gone. She sniffed through the rain, following his flower-bud scent around the side of the hill.

  She smelled the cave before she saw it. Deep and cold and wet.

  “Uly?” Mia called into the darkness. “Uly, what are you doing? We have to help him. If all three of us just—”

  “No,” Uly said. His whispers echoed. “He’ll—hic—kill me.”

  Mia squinted into the cave. “Why would he kill you? He just saved our lives!”

  “He saved—hic!—your life.”

  “You’re being silly,” she said. “There are already enough scary things in the world without adding other foxes to the list. Especially ones in your own family.”

  “Not other foxes,” Uly said. “Mr. Scratch.”

  A roar echoed from the top of the hill. Mia peered around the cave’s overhang. The fight was almost won. The fox struck at the badger, driving it down the hill.

  “It’s blood and parts!” the badger spat. “Meat and fur and nothing else!”

  The fox stood strong until the badger faded into the graying rain, west toward where the humans dwelled. Once it was gone, the fox collapsed to his side. Mia took a step toward him.

  “Mia,” Uly whispered from the cave. “Don’t. Please.”

  “He’s just a fox, Uly,” she said, and hobbled up the hill.

  The rain slowed to a drizzle. The fox lay still. His chest rose and fell, huffing fog. Blood ran down his coat. He seemed so helpless, like he couldn’t hurt a mouse.

  Mia took a step closer, and the fox rolled onto his stomach, wincing. “Ah. There you are,” he said. “I thought you’d fled.”

  She took a step back. The fur on his face was so black it made his amber eyes glow like a sunset. His muzzle was long and powerful, and moon-bright fangs stood sharp outside his mouth.

  She swallowed. “How’d you beat that badger?”

  The fox began to clean his wounds. “I almost didn’t. Were it not for your bravery, I wouldn’t have been able to surprise him.” He grinned at her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been fighting badgers since the day you were born.”

  Mia’s whiskers twitched with embarrassment. “What, that? That was nothing.”

  The fox continued to clean his wound.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  With another wince, the fox pushed upright and bowed his head. “My name is Wynn.”

  Mia smirked. So not Mr. Scratch. That must’ve been a name Uly came up with.

  “And yours?” Wynn asked.

  “Mia.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mia.”

  The air became laced with lilac, making her nose twitch. When she was a kit, the thought of marking territory had made her gag. But now it confused her. If this scent was meant to keep other foxes out, why did it smell so … pretty?

  Wynn took a step toward her, and she took a step away.

  He smiled, his fangs white and gleaming. “I was only going to clean your wound. It seems that creature hurt your forehead. And your throat.”

  My claw and my tail too, she thought. But she didn’t go any closer.

  “You are welcome to remain here,” Wynn said, gazing toward the towering rocks. “It’s a dark night for a fox kit all alone.”

  Mia resisted the urge to look at the cave. If Uly would just come out of hiding, he’d realize there was nothing to be afraid of.

  “I, uh, can’t stay,” she said, looking north beyond the rock pile toward a great chasm that broke the land. “I need to find my mom.”

  “Then you’re in luck,” Wynn said. “My scent draws vixens to these rock
s. If your mother comes within a thousand foxtails of this place, rest assured she’ll end up here.”

  “Oh,” Mia said. “I didn’t know that.”

  She sniffed the landscape. The marshes and the forest in the south. The smoky hills to the east. The chasm to the north that wrapped around to the cave in the west. Finding her mom felt as impossible as finding a whisker in a field.

  Also, Mia was hurt. She had no idea how long it would be before she could hunt again.

  Moonlight broke through the clouds, making the black stones of the tower shine.

  “I’ll stay,” she said. “Just for tonight.”

  “Good,” Wynn said. “You’ll find a place to rest near the rocks’ summit. The stones will divert the rain, and there are vixens to clean your wounds.”

  He turned to leave, then paused. His nose tilted toward the cave. Snff snff. His muzzle wrinkled only a moment. And then Wynn vanished into the evening.

  Mia considered returning to the cave to wish Uly a good night but thought better of it.

  “Let him pout,” she said, and began her long climb to the rocks.

  THREE

  MIA SAT ON A HIGH stone perch and watched another storm sweep over the Lilac Kingdom. Rain cascaded off the stones, stirring the mist in the chasm and slicking the scraggly hill into a muddy waterfall that flooded into the cave. She tried not to worry about Uly.

  It had been three days since Mia had climbed the rock pile, and she still hadn’t had a chance to visit her friend. Wynn was always watching from his roost that overlooked the vixens’ quarters.

  “Come away from the rain, child,” a voice said behind her.

  It was Odette, whose fur was as red as raspberries.

  “You haven’t finished your squirrel heart.”

  This was Mercy, whose fur was as red as elk’s blood.

  Mia slipped into the faint light of the rocky overhang and folded her paws around the heart. She took tiny bites, trying not to think about how hungry Uly must be down in that cave. It wasn’t her fault if he wanted to cower in the wet darkness while she remained dry beneath the rocks.

  “There,” Odette said, eyes reflecting the storm. “Isn’t that better?”

  “Sure,” Mia said, licking the blood from her beard.

  Mercy lay quiet in the shadows. The vixens of the Lilac Kingdom had a strange, glazed look in their eyes. Mia tried not to look directly at them. They reminded her of Mr. Tod’s eyes.

  Still, the vixens were kind to her. Odette had cleaned her fur and soothed her wounds, and Mercy had shown her where the food was buried. Mia’s claw and forehead were feeling better, but her tail and throat were slow to heal. She had spent the days napping and cleaning her wounds, and feasting on squirrels and serpents. But she was starting to feel restless.

  “When does Wynn go hunting?” she asked once her squirrel heart was finished.

  “Whisper, child,” Mercy said, glancing up toward Wynn’s roost.

  “Our husband’s senses are as sharp as starlight,” Odette said.

  “Oh,” Mia said, lowering her voice, though she wasn’t sure why. “Sorry.”

  “Why do you want to know?” Odette asked.

  Mia wanted to check on Uly. He had to be cold and hungry and wondering where she was. But she didn’t dare sneak down to the cave, in case Wynn saw her and asked where she was going. She had come to trust the lord of the Lilac Kingdom. He had provided her food and shelter and asked nothing in return. But if she led Wynn to Uly, Uly might never forgive her.

  “I just wanted to hunt something,” Mia said. “My tail’s starting to feel better, and these squirrel hearts are too gushy.”

  “No need to worry your ears, child,” Odette said.

  “Name a thing,” said Mercy, “and Wynn will hunt it for you.”

  “Once our stores are empty, of course,” Odette said.

  Mia looked at the pile of dead squirrels in the corner of their quarters. It would be days before they were eaten.

  “Um,” she said. “I also need to find my mom.”

  “Why, child?” Mercy asked. “The lilac scent will draw her here.”

  “Right,” Mia said, looking away from the vixen’s glazed eyes. “Right.”

  She didn’t ask, But what if it doesn’t?

  “Settle, child,” Odette said. “No need to rush. You don’t realize you’re in a good place.”

  “The best place,” Mercy said.

  Mia glanced through the cracks in the quarters, across the Lilac Kingdom. There was no sand. No sipping creek. No weedy cover. Only rocks and gushy hearts and endless storms.

  “I … like this place,” Mia said, not wanting to sound ungrateful.

  “No,” Mercy said, “you don’t.”

  “But you will,” said Odette.

  FOUR

  THAT NIGHT, Mia waited for the vixens to fall asleep and then crept out of the quarters, as she had every night before. She watched the hill for a long time. Somewhere wolves howled. When the moon was high, a shadow slipped from Wynn’s roost, stalked through the scraggly branches, and then vanished into the mists.

  “Finally,” Mia whispered.

  She grabbed a squirrel haunch from the stores and trotted toward the caves, passing an upright stone.

  “Good evening,” the stone said.

  Mia jolted and dropped the haunch. Moonlight shined on the black fur of Wynn’s face. He perched on the rock above her, throwing a shadow, long and sharp.

  She tried to laugh. “I thought you were a rock.”

  Wynn only stared at her, and Mia felt a chill. She could’ve sworn she’d seen his shadow padding down the hill. But it must have been a trick of the moonlight. Or the sleepy lilac scent.

  “And where are you headed this night?” he asked.

  “Oh, um, I thought I smelled my mom.” She pawed at the squirrel haunch. “This is for her.”

  Wynn leapt from the rock onto the path between her and the cave. “I would advise you remain close to your quarters. The clouds are on the move tonight, and dark things go sniffing when the moon is obscured.” He smiled his bright fangs. “If a vixen comes anywhere near this place, rest assured I will tell you.”

  “Oh,” Mia said, trying to sound relieved. “Good.” She started back toward the vixens’ quarters, but then turned right back around again. “But I have to leave at some point. I can’t just stay here forever, waiting for my mom to show up. That would be … dumb.”

  “Of course.” Wynn bowed his head. “And you’re welcome to leave anytime you wish.” The moon made an unnatural flicker in his eyes. “But the snows will fall soon, and all scents will be trapped beneath the ice.”

  “Oh,” Mia said, watching mists coil in the chasm. “Right.”

  He stepped so close that she could smell the blood from his last kill. “I would have you remain here through the winter months, Mia. For your safety.”

  “Oh … um, no thanks.”

  “Your first winter can be very difficult. Many don’t survive.”

  “Good to know,” she said.

  Miss Vix had told her the same thing. Winter was the fiercest predator. But that was the least of Mia’s worries right then. She still needed to bring Uly food and clean his wounds. She still needed to heal so they could continue north and find her mom.

  “Your muzzle is whitening nicely,” Wynn said. “Good coat. Strong teeth. You will make a fine vixen in the years to come.” He smiled. “And one who can fight off badgers, as well.”

  Mia avoided his eyes. “Maybe … but I still want to see my mom.”

  Wynn leapt back to his perch, scanning his kingdom. “I am unable to guarantee your safety if you stray from your quarters. Some of the rocks are unstable. A cave winds through the base of this hill. The ground could collapse beneath you.”

  Mia stared at her paws. This made her want to check on Uly all the more.

  Wynn nodded toward the squirrel’s haunch. “I would also advise you not to bring food out into the open. Dark things lurk
in the mists at the edge of this kingdom. And in the cave. The smell could draw them out.”

  Mia stared at the squirrel haunch and thought, Uly must be so hungry. Then she picked it up and choked it down in a gulp.

  Wynn continued to stare at her.

  She cleared her throat. “Welp, back to the stones with me, I guess.” She turned to leave, then paused. “Only…”

  “Yes?”

  She remembered Mercy’s and Odette’s words and turned around. “I have this craving.”

  He bowed. “Name it. You are my guest.”

  She tried to think of something difficult to find.

  “Peaches and centipedes,” she said.

  Wynn’s eyes widened a little. Then he smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks,” Mia said. “You’re the best.”

  Later that night, once Wynn’s tail had slipped down the hill, Mia crept out of her quarters and along the northern chasm. Her paw accidentally nudged a pebble over the edge, and it whirled down, clacking once against the cliff’s side before plunging into the mist. She shuddered and continued down the hill, into the cave.

  “Uly?” she whispered, sloshing through paw-deep water.

  A soft wind murmured through the darkness. There was a shuffling above, then a small splash.

  “I’m here,” he whispered.

  “Hi!” Mia said. She couldn’t stop her stinging tail from wagging. “How are you? I couldn’t smell you! Are you okay?”

  “Shh,” Uly said.

  His shining eyes slowly looked up. Mia followed them to the cave’s ceiling. The shadows there shivered. Bats. Thousands of them. Folded in tiny bundles.

  “Oh,” she whispered, flattening her ears.

  Bats were sharp, diseased things. If disturbed, they would pour down in a black avalanche, plunging their tiny fangs into her and Uly until they were bled dry.

  She sloshed forward as quietly as she could. “How’s your neck doing?”

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  When he didn’t say more, she smirked. “I’m okay too, y’know. Thanks for asking.”

  “Right,” he said. “Sorry.”