Provisioning
Out in the barnyard, a bluetick pup chained to his crate bayed wretchedly, for all the good it would do.
A vixen charged into a chicken coop with the light of murder in her eyes. Sparks buzzing on her vivid coat, she swept through the squawking flock with ease. She plucked a shapely hen from the fray, snapping her jaws around the shrieking bird and clamping down hard. The survivors screamed at the sound of a snap, feathers everywhere as the fox made her escape.
Out in the barnyard, a bluetick pup chained to his crate bayed wretchedly, for all the good it would do. The farmers were out for the evening to celebrate the holidays.
White flakes began to fall as the vixen slipped out the coop. A feather tickled her nose. She sneezed. Blood leaked into her mouth; she tasted its tang with relish.
With a wry look at the barking bluetick, she gave him a wink through the snow and took off.
Through frosted fields the fox flooded, trotting northward, whisking away marks her paws left with her tail. The temperatures had dipped, cruel winds beginning to blow against her. She fluffed her pelt against the cold, narrowed her eyes and pushed through.
An hour’s wrestling against the tempest rewarded the vixen with sounds of home. She sidled into a frozen ditch, meandered to a hole hidden behind grass and slid into home with a sigh.
Three fox kits yipped in welcome and eyed the chicken hungrily. Beneath their mother’s warm gaze, they ripped into the kill with zeal while the snow-filled winds outside howled and shrieked.
About the Creator
Lark Hanshan
A quiet West Coast observer. Writing a sentence onto a blank page and letting what comes next do what it must.
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Fishwidow
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By Lark Hanshan11 months ago in Fiction
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By Lamar Wiggins6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Excellent diction. Good story