Fox climbed out of his burrow,

into the autumn sun.

His favorite season had come again.

Fox smiled at the sun rays,

his fur glistening in morning dew.

He liked how the sunlight hit his fur

making it look like fire.

Fox trekked into the dark green wood,

of evergreen pines, and caught quickly,

a mouse scurrying into nearby leaves.

His favorite time of the day—hunting.

Fox fell asleep by a stream,

after a good meal and a fresh drink of water.

He listened to the birds and sighed with satisfaction.

Fox walked further into the deep wood,

where his ancestors used to live.

He came to a scarlet stone grave—"Reva" inscribed.

Fox puffed out his chest, feeling proud,

that he came from such a warrior.

He knew the tale of the fox warrior—his favorite story.

Through the trees, through the bushes,

a hint of fox flame runs.

Fox called out to the flame,

but it didn't answer—a ghost from the past.

Fox trod back to his burrow,

as the moon came up in the sky.

He found the constellation of Reva—his favorite star.