The Fox Cub Bold (18 page)

Bold’s family looked stunned. To have received such unexpected good news and then for their hopes to be dashed almost at the same moment was awful. Vixen made the first move to go.

‘Whisper – you will come with us?’ Charmer asked.

Whisper looked away, into the distance, as if she were picturing Bold as he now might be. She drew a deep breath. ‘No,’ she answered at last, in a low voice. ‘I don’t think I could bear it.’

Charmer hung her head, sensing, but not wishing to see, her anguish.

‘We must trust that we can bring you good news,’ Fox said, much moved.

Vixen led her family away in the direction of the Park’s boundary fence. Whisper stood to watch them, unmoving. Then, with a toss of her head, she turned to finish preparing her earth.

Outside the Reserve the four animals divided, the two foxes taking one course; the two vixens, another. It was a black, cloud-covered night and, for the two young beasts, Friendly and Charmer, quite an adventure. Neither of them had ever been beyond the Park’s bounds, and each kept close to its parent. Fox and Vixen knew the terrain from of old and began systematically to comb the area. The hours of darkness passed with no clue found.

Charmer watched the grey dawn break with misgiving. ‘Should we remain here to be seen?’ she asked her mother nervously. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to return home until the next night?’

Vixen nuzzled her gently. ‘I understand your fear,’ she answered. ‘But there will be no danger if we are careful. We can’t afford to lose many hours in idleness.’

Friendly was experiencing the same qualms but preferred not to let his father know.

The early morning light took on a pearly quality as the birds began to sing in greater and greater numbers. One solitary bird saw Vixen and Charmer and wondered at their activity. As he wheeled on the wing in search of his breakfast he saw the other two foxes behaving in the same busy manner. Ignoring his empty stomach, Robber alighted on a branch and pondered. The more he pondered, the more he became convinced that he knew who the animals must be and what they were doing. He croaked to himself, wondering if he should become involved. He was not sure of Bold’s wishes. And yet, and yet . . . if one of these animals was the Farthing Wood Fox, he, and he alone of all the creatures around, had the chance of reuniting father and son. He hopped up and down the branch in his anxiety. If he did nothing, they might never meet again – or, worse still, the meeting might be too late . . . He simply
couldn’t
allow such a sad event to happen when he might be the one means of preventing it. He ‘cawed’ twice to steel himself and flew down towards Fox and Friendly.

The animals looked up but paid him no attention. A crow was a commonplace enough sight, even in the Reserve.

Robber croaked nervously. ‘Er – er – are you searching for someone?’ he asked with awkwardness.

Fox looked at the bird in surprise. For a moment he said nothing. Then, ever cautious, he answered: ‘Who are you, that you ask such a question?’

‘A friend, I hope,’ Robber muttered, still very much in awe of the Fox. ‘I think I may be able to help you.’

‘Do you have a message for us?’ asked Friendly.

‘No. But I must identify myself,’ Robber pulled himself together. ‘I am called Robber by my friend the fox – the one whom I think you must be seeking?’

‘Ah!’ Fox and Friendly exchanged glances.

‘You are the Farthing Wood Fox?’ Robber asked the senior animal.

‘Yes.’

‘Then I
can
help you. I can take you to Bold.’

‘Do so,’ Fox answered at once. ‘We shall learn your history later.’

Robber signified the direction. ‘You must run fast,’ he said. ‘I’ll point out the way. You’ve still quite a distance to cover.’ He took to the air. The two foxes ran underneath his flight path. Robber led them to where Vixen and Charmer were located and kept flying on, leaving the explanations to the foxes. He dipped and turned once to make sure they were following. The four animals were running as hard as they could. Robber kept on to the birch spinney.

Only a metre or two away from the great log, Bold lay amongst the sprouting grass and the remains of the winter’s dead leaves. He was in no pain now. He felt calm. He had no desires. He was now too weak to move and he knew he would die where he lay. He saw Robber alight close by on a birch sapling and was glad. Despite his decision, he was glad he would not die entirely alone. He closed his eyes gratefully.

When he next opened them he saw, as through a mist, four familiar and beloved shapes and faces. He blinked slowly, thinking he was a cub again back in White Deer Park. Vixen came forward, sniffed, and nuzzled him with a very real tenderness. Bold blinked again.

‘You’re alone no longer,’ Vixen whispered, ‘my brave, bold cub. We will stay with you.’

A feeling of peace – almost of happiness – engulfed the stricken animal. He saw his father and his brother and sister cubs. ‘Is Whisper . . .’ Bold tried hard to speak.

‘Whisper is well,’ Vixen said soothingly. ‘Rest now. She will soon be a mother and we shall keep watch for her and bring food for her when necessary.’

Now Fox came closer. ‘Your cubs will be fine, sturdy youngsters, Bold, with you for a father. My, what a stout, plucky cub you were!’ Then he lowered his voice so that only Bold could hear his words. Not even Vixen overheard. ‘You are a courageous animal,’ he said, ‘and your adventures will be remembered as long as mine.
I’m
proud to be
your
father.’

A sigh escaped Bold’s parted lips. He felt a sense of release. All had not been in vain. He looked joyfully towards the black, watchful figure in the birch tree, and prepared to leave, at last, the real world.

In the spring Whisper’s cubs were born. There were four of them – two male and two female. Charmer produced her litter, too, and so the blood of the Farthing Wood Fox renewed itself in the third generation. But Whisper had another reason to be proud, for in her cub’s veins was mingled also the blood of Bold, her chosen mate. Only now could her regret at losing him be effaced by seeing his image reproduced in her offspring. As her cubs would mature and grow up, it would be Bold’s history they would hear as they nestled around her in their earth. They would remember the father they would never know as the heroic creature she believed him to be, who had sacrificed himself for their well-being.

Robber came to tell her he had found a mate and, before he bade her farewell, they reminisced a little. They talked of Bold, and of their adventures, and remembered Rollo. They parted with affection.

And Whisper was never to feel lonely. Apart from Bold’s family, there were new friends to be made all the time – Bold’s friends and his father’s friends from their old home. She soon learned that life in White Deer Park was quite unlike her previous existence.

Two months passed; her cubs gambolled in the sun and grew bigger and stronger and learnt how to hunt. One night Whisper’s special friend – Charmer – came to talk. They lay on the ground by Whisper’s bolt-hole, watching Tawny Owl swooping silently through the summer evening.

‘My cubs wanted to know what’s outside the Park,’ Whisper remarked. ‘I tried to explain but couldn’t find the right words. I have to find a way of justifying their father’s actions without persuading them to copy him.’

‘This Park can be a paradise,’ Charmer said. ‘That’s what they should learn.’

‘
I’ve
learnt it,’ Whisper answered. ‘There are creatures here on the best of terms who would be tearing each other to pieces anywhere else.’

‘It’s a friendship that’s rooted in the old Oath and worth preserving,’ Charmer said.

‘And a means of persuasion, perhaps, for any animal who might develop itchy feet,’ Whisper added.

‘I think you and I between us, Whisper, can find a more telling cure for that problem,’ said Charmer humorously. ‘When our cubs are a little bigger they must be encouraged to mingle. And the rest can be left to Mother Nature!’

Colin Dann was born in Richmond, Surrey. His interest in natural history was fostered by studying the local wildlife in Richmond Park, and wildlife success came at the age of ten, when he won a London Schools Essay Competition set by the RSPCA. His prize was a copy of
The Wind in the Willows
. For many years he worked for Collins, the publishers. It was during this period that his concern for conservation led him to write his first novel,
The Animals of Farthing Wood
, which won the Arts Council National Award for Children’s Literature in 1980.

Colin has since published seven further books in his Farthing Wood/White Deer Park sequence:
In the Grip of Winter
(1981),
Fox’s Feud
(1982),
The Fox Cub Bold
(1983),
The Siege of White Deer Park
(1985),
In the Path of the Storm
(1989),
Battle for the Park
(1992) and
Farthing Wood – The Adventure Begins
(1994). These stories were made into a highly successful animation series for the BBC. Other titles by him include
The Ram of Sweetriver
(1986),
The Beach Dogs
(1988),
Just Nuffin
(1989),
A Great Escape
(1990),
A Legacy of Ghosts
(1991) and the City Cats trilogy,
King of the Vagabonds
(1987),
The City Cats
(1991) and
Copycat
(1997).