The Fox Cub Bold (14 page)

‘It would be madness at present,’ he declared.

‘But if there’s no alternative?’

‘There
is
an alternative,’ he argued. ‘We look for better shelter and take cover until there’s an improvement.’

‘But think of the time we might lose,’ Whisper persisted.

‘Better that than losing our lives,’ Bold answered grimly, ‘
and
those lives not yet begun.’ This latter remark tipped the balance as far as Whisper was concerned and she gave in.

‘Perhaps you are right, after all,’ she said. ‘But it mustn’t be a long stay.’

Bold didn’t answer. He was content to let things take their own course while they were at the dictates of the weather.

‘I’ll see if I can find a more promising shelter hole,’ Whisper volunteered. ‘We do need to go underground.’ She left Bold in the hollowed-out ‘form’ and went deeper into the little wood. Under the trees, albeit with their bare branches, the snow was less thick than in the open. Nevertheless her search was not an easy one. At each step, her feet sank about ten centimetres and moving around, even here, was laborious. She realized Bold had been more sensible than she. A deserted hole, not quite filled and disguised by snow, lay under the half-exposed roots of an oak tree. It was just about large enough inside for the two of them and, before returning to her mate, Whisper scooped out the unwanted debris from the interior.

She and Bold were soon esconced safely inside, heartily glad to be out of reach of the worst excesses of the winter elements. The main thing on their minds now was, of course, food. But first they slept.

When they awoke it was daylight. The wind had dropped but more snow had fallen and the wood was shrouded in silence. By the entrance to their hole, which was nearly blocked up, lay a few, poor scraps. Whisper was puzzled but Bold knew at once how they came there.

‘Don’t you see – it’s Robber!’ he exclaimed. ‘Even in these conditions he didn’t forget us. And I bet he went short himself to spare these morsels. He’ll be facing the same difficulties as any other creature.’

‘How on earth did he find us?’ Whisper wanted to know.

‘No doubt he’s had his sharp black eyes on us all along,’ Bold answered with amusement. ‘I’ll just go a short distance and see if I can spot him.’

Bold made his way to the edge of the wood and looked out. The sun shone; the air was fresh and very cold. The landscape spread before him was a sea of brilliant white. Trees and clusters of vegetation were festooned with sparkling decoration as bright as diamonds. He was dazzled. Against that gleaming array, even the smallest bird’s movements were plainly discernible. Their dark, darting little bodies stood out in startling contrast. Bold looked for a larger black shape among the snow-clad branches. He saw it. He took a few hesitant steps into the open, hoping it was indeed Robber he had spied. As if he had been waiting for a signal, the bird came winging down directly towards his friend.

‘Hallo, Faithful,’ said Bold good-humouredly.

‘Aha! You must have found my little offering?’ Robber said and uttered a croak of pleasure.

‘I want to tell you not to concern yourself with us,’ Bold said, ‘because, my dear friend, you will have your work cut out feeding yourself.’

‘It’s certainly become very difficult all of a sudden,’ Robber concurred. ‘Just when we looked forward to the spring, too. But I
do
want to help. Now you’ve come this far you can’t turn back and – well, finding food in
this
situation is a pretty daunting task.’

‘It is,’ said Bold. ‘But Whisper and I have holed up in the wood here whilst we can go no further.’

‘I’m going back to the town,’ Robber rejoined. ‘It’s safer to be near humans at times like this. Then, as soon as I strike lucky, I’ll be able to bring something for you – and more worthwhile than this time.’

‘No, Robber,’ Bold said flatly. ‘It’s too far for you to fly to and fro for our benefit. I couldn’t allow myself to be so beholden to any creature, and I know how Whisper would feel about it.’

‘A long way by foot, yes,’ agreed Robber, ‘but less far as the crow flies!’

Despite the joke Bold remained serious. ‘Please, let’s say no more about it,’ he said. ‘Whisper and I will cope. It’s different from when I was alone – she’s not handicapped in any way. And I’d be far happier knowing you have only the worry of looking after yourself.’

‘So be it,’ said the bird. ‘I won’t press the point. At least I know where to find you while this weather continues. And, once it’s over, I shall return to open country – for this must be winter’s last fling.’

‘Good luck go with you,’ said Bold.

‘The same to you,’ returned Robber. ‘I shall be thinking of you.’ Bold made his way back to Whisper’s side. They divided the scraps of food between them and tried to sleep again. But their appetites had only been aggravated by the little they had eaten and sleep was next to impossible. They lay in discomfort, sometimes cat-napping, until it grew dark.

Then Whisper said: ‘I’m going to see what I can find.’

Bold said: ‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘I can do more on my own. I’m sorry,’ she went on, knowing Bold would feel this deeply, ‘but I really think there’s more chance that way.’

‘You’re right, of course,’ he said with resignation. ‘I’d only hold you up.’

When she had gone, he pulled himself out of the hole. He scratched around in the snow and chewed at some stalks of grass in a desultory manner, wondering about their chances of reaching his birthplace. Whisper came back quite soon.

‘We’re in luck,’ she said. ‘Follow me.’

Bold stumbled in her wake, his spirits raised. She took him to a glade in the wood which she had discovered was rich in bluebell bulbs. She had dug up quite a quantity of them. Bold looked at the little white bulbs with a sense of irony. In these conditions, such miserable fare could assume the proportions of riches unknown. Whisper had already started eating. She looked at him with irritation.

‘Don’t turn your nose up at them,’ she said. ‘They may be all that’s standing between us and starvation!’

The halt in their progress enforced by the appalling weather proved to be a mixed blessing for Bold. His appetite, like Whisper’s, was never properly satisfied, but his bad leg was rested. The lull in their activities was a good thing from that point of view. The leg had a chance to recover from the strains recently imposed upon it, and the pain seemed to subside. Five days passed with no letup in the icy conditions. For Whisper, these were five more days lost. On the sixth day the temperature rose a few degrees. She went out of the wood to test the ground for travelling. The reverse of her expectations occurred. During the coldest temperatures the snow had frozen each night and become compacted and firm underfoot. Now it was thawing ever so slightly and, consequently, was softer and more giving so that it was more taxing to walk on. Disheartened, Whisper reported her findings to Bold.

‘We must be patient,’ he told her.

‘I’ve tried to be,’ she answered, ‘but it’s difficult for me. I’ve seen a previous winter, Bold. You haven’t. There will only be a gradual change each day. The snow might take days to disappear.’

‘We needn’t wait for it to vanish altogether,’ Bold said encouragingly, trying not to think of himself. ‘I’m committed to this venture as well, don’t forget. I’m responsible for getting you to that Reserve.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Whisper softly. ‘You must forgive my anxiety.’

‘Of course I do,’ he said. ‘And I do understand, Whisper.’

The next night they resumed their journey. The ground was sticky, slippery and toilsome. After only a short distance Bold’s bad leg ached and, when he paused, the three good legs trembled from the strain. He licked his lips but said nothing. Whisper also refrained from comment. On they went again. Bold’s pace grew slower and slower; his limp more pronounced. The beneficial effects of their five days’ rest were undone in a couple of hours. Yet he struggled on grimly, and without complaint. They came to a slight rise in the land. Even for Whisper the task of pulling herself up it when, at every step, the slush caused her to slip back, was awesome. For Bold it was torture. He could exert no pressure on his injured leg to get a grip and so he was left to flounder on three. By a supreme effort of will he reached the crest of the slope where he promptly collapsed.

Whisper looked at him in anguish. ‘Oh, Bold!’ she wailed. ‘What have I done? We shouldn’t have started – I’ve been so foolish!’

Bold tried to put on a brave face. ‘Just need a . . . breather,’ he muttered. But Whisper knew better.

‘I shouldn’t have forced you – oh! oh! we should have waited.’

‘You didn’t force me,’ he replied. ‘
I
said not to wait longer.’

‘No, no, it was my fault,’ she insisted. ‘My over-anxiety . . .’

‘Whisper . . . no use being wise . . . after the event,’ Bold murmured. He tried to stand, staggered, and fell on his side.

Whisper was beside herself. They couldn’t stay where they were, yet how could she assist him? She lay down next to him and nuzzled him; then licked at his face.

‘You must take cover,’ he said to her painfully. ‘Before daybreak . . .’

‘I can’t leave you here alone, in this exposed position,’ she protested. ‘Anything could happen!’

‘I’ll be all right. A bit longer to rest . . . then I’ll follow you,’ he answered.

Whisper licked at his bad leg – at the hole in his thigh left by the cruel pellets the previous autumn. It was a vain but loving gesture, and Bold appreciated it. For a while longer they lay together silently. There was no wind. The air was mild. Presently the sky began, almost imperceptibly, to lighten. Somewhere a solitary bird uttered a few sleepy, burbling notes as if it were talking to itself.

‘Go!’ whispered Bold.

The vixen stood up and shivered. Her coat was saturated by the melting snow. She gave herself a shake and regarded Bold anxiously. She looked around for the nearest point of cover. There was a copse poking through the greying expanse of snow on the horizon. She knew Bold’s chances of getting there were nil. ‘I’ll stay,’ she told him. ‘There’s no cover.’

‘I may be injured and exhausted but I’m not blind,’ he answered her drily. ‘You must head for that copse – for the sake of the cubs,’ he added tellingly.

‘But . . . but . . .’

‘It will be light soon,’ he said emphatically. ‘Whisper – you
must
go.’

‘I shall come back for you at dusk,’ she said hopelessly. She really didn’t think she would see him again – alive.

Bold said: ‘I’ll join you when I’m ready.’ His voice sounded hollow.

Whisper went, with many a backward glance.

When the sun was fully up, Bold again hauled himself to his feet and tottered a few steps as he tried to estimate the distance to the copse. He knew he could never get across even a quarter of it. He looked around the wintry vista. Luckily, there was no sign of any large creature abroad. How long could he hope to remain un-threatened on that rather prominent knoll? It was essential for him to move from there to a place of greater safety. But where?

He slipped, slithered and stumbled down the other side of the slope. His body was miserably wet and chilled through with slush and mud. The bleak February sun had no warmth in it. He was hungry, but there was no chance of his finding anything to eat. Above all, he felt lonely. How long it seemed from the days when he had revelled in his solitude. Yet it was less than one whole season! Not only had his appearance changed over those few months, but also his attitudes and desires. And most of all, now, he desired company.

There was no hope of Whisper’s return until the day was over – indeed, he had insisted she stay away from him. He wondered if the thaw in the weather would induce Robber to quit the area of the town again. How glad he would be to see the crow fly up. He lay down again at the foot of the slope, utterly dispirited. He would make no attempt whatever, he decided, to start for the copse. It would be senseless in his present state. Far better to wait for Whisper.

He awoke from a troubled doze with a strong sense of another’s presence. The sun was now high in the sky. He turned his head – and there stood Robber!

‘I didn’t want to disturb you; you looked so weary,’ said the crow. ‘You’re quite safe – nothing else has passed this way. But why are you lying out in the open like this?’

Bold’s tail had been weakly thumping up and down in his pleasure at seeing his friend. Now it stopped. ‘Easy to answer that,’ he said abruptly. ‘I can’t get any further!’

‘Why, what do you mean? What’s happened?’ Robber demanded.

Bold explained.

‘Ah, you were ill-advised to try and travel through this!’ Robber remarked with his beady, black eyes fixed on the fox. ‘What are a couple of days? You should have been more patient, Bold.’

‘I acknowledge it, and I myself would gladly have paused longer. But I tried to do what Whisper wanted.’

‘Humph! She should have thought more about you!’ Robber said shortly. ‘Will she be back?’

‘Oh, yes, she will try to get back to me. You see, she needs me to point the way.’