Kip winced when her pupils constricted painfully at the brightness outside. She limped along after the much quicker silver fox, both of them leaving scattering butterflies in their wake. But the pounding of the leopard's paw steps rapidly gained on her while the other fox's tail grew further and further away.

Kip's shoulder screamed. She let out a stifled bark when the useless thing gave out on her and she collapsed. The leopard let out a victorious snarl as it pounced.

A fox's teeth found the vixen's nape and dragged her out of the way just as the cat landed. "This way!" the silver fox huffed before dashing down into an off-shooting subway tunnel. And in the span of half a heartbeat, Kip elected that she'd preferred her chances following a strange fox into a dark tunnel than to try to outrun a furious leopard on three legs.

The leopard swatted at their tails as it followed them down the subway steps. The roar of a river filled Kip's ears when she followed the other fox through the pitch-black tunnel. She kept as far away from the track as possible, finding that it had long ago become a gushing underground river of white rapids. Her eyes barely had time to adjust to the dark before the leopard let out a roar that echoed the whole way down the line.

Kip screamed when the beast fell upon her, pinning her to the ground. She fought for her life as the cat struggled to find a place to sink its fangs. Kip thought fast. With her catch in her grasp, she maneuvered her body beneath the cat just as the beast's jaws shut with a resounding crack—splitting the deer's limb in two instead of her.

In frustration and with its prey returned, the beast swatted the fox away.

—Straight into the rapids.

The fox sank beneath the water's surface in an instant. And she desperately wanted to scream. She kicked. She struggled. But every direction was water, and air was always out of her reach no matter which way she turned. Everything was dark. And cold. And the fox's body—tossed around like a broken toy—tired and she was swallowed by the swirling water.

Against her will, instinct took over, and Kip sucked in a heaving lungful of water.

Everything dimmed. The light. The sound. Even the pain of her lamed leg. Her fear died, killing with it any compulsion to fight back. Was this really how she was going to die, alone while the world grew black like a pit covered by her mother's smoldering body?

She stopped kicking and curled up into a tight ball instead, surrendering herself to the current. Finally, she could stop running.

Kip shut her eyes.

The muffled sound of a splash made one of her water-logged ears twitch. She almost felt compelled to snap at whoever was making such a racket. Couldn't they tell that she was trying to finally get some damn rest?

But again, someone else's fangs grabbed her and pulled her to safety.

🦋🦋🦋

Kip gasped awake.

...And immediately choked on that gasp when a heaving lungful of river water spewed from her mouth.

Then the scent hit her.

She sat up with a jolt and surveyed her surroundings. Kip found herself in a tiny excuse for a den that absolutely reeked of that other fox. And, sure enough, a fluffy shape soon darkened the entrance tunnel of the shallow den. Immediately, she raised her hackles and showed the other fox her teeth.

The silver fox strolled on in with a fresh kill dangling from his maw. He shook his coat free of specks of snow. Kip snapped at him, and the male let out a yipe and dropped his prey, and rolled over unto his back submissively.

Then he blinked up at the vixen. His tail began wagging. "Oh!" You're awake! Good to see you don't have the water fear, at least." He offered a cheeky smile that drooped when it wasn't reciprocated. He cleared his throat and returned to his feet, then poked his prey with a black paw. "Here. I couldn't retrieve your catch. But you can help yourself to some of my cache, if you like." With that, he nudged his dropped prey—a perching bird—over to Kip with his nose.

A bird! Kip had never caught a bird before. Her mouth watered. No, no, she told herself. Surely, she wasn't lowly enough to accept handouts from strangers. The male, meanwhile, was either oblivious or ignoring her posturing and had set about grooming himself in the cramped den. His fur had already dried and returned to maximum plushness.

Kip narrowed her eyes and sniffed at him. Male. Yep. Well-fed. Young, probably just into his second year. And a smug bastard.

But not a threat at the moment.

Kip's stomach betrayed her with an embarrassingly loud growl. Alright. Perhaps she could throw away her pride and make an exception, just this one time. With a feral growl, she sank her fangs into the bird, obliterating it in only a few bites. After licking feathers from her chops, she set about grooming her still soggy rust-red coat, always keeping her one wary eye on the fox in the other corner of the den.

The male caught her staring at him, not that she was trying to be discreet about it. "You're not going to eat me next, are you?"

A joke. This other fox liked jokes.

Kip didn't laugh.

"Ah...Well. You're welcome to stay too, if you like," the silver fox said. His tone almost sounded hopeful. "The leopard's still prowling around. She's even more moody at night, if you can believe it. And it's cold out there. I even saw flurries. And I saw your, um...your hurt leg—"

"Why?" Kip interjected.

This other fox could have died for her sake. If their roles had been reversed, Kip wasn't entirely sure she would've done the same for him.

The male's smile faltered, only for a moment. "Why?" he repeated. Kip knew he understood what she meant. Why had he risked his life for hers? His tail twitched as he thought. "Because, in that moment, I could help. And so I did." A shrug. "What's your name?"

The vixen swallowed. "Kip." When the silence stretched between them, she continued, "And yours?" She supposed it was polite to ask his name in return. Conversation was such an atrophied skill of hers.

The silver fox's grin returned. "Fell." Then he cocked his head to the side, squinting—a favorite expression of his, Kip noted. "What happened to your eye?" he asked.

Kip sucked in air through her fangs. She turned away and hid her unsightly blind eye beneath her scraggly excuse of a tail. "I lost it."

Fell was silent, most likely waiting for Kip to explain further. When she didn't and the lingering silence grew too awkward, he spread his jaws and let out an exaggerated yawn. He circled the same spot before finding a comfortable position and plopping himself down into the dirt with a fluffy flourish.

Right next to Kip.

The she-fox startled and tried to scoot away from him, but that was an impossible feat in the cramped space. "Please," she hissed. "Keep your distance."

Fell rolled into her playfully. He smiled up at her, all stretched out on his back with his paws curled to his chest. "But I'm so cold." He reached up and batted her on her nose—gently. Playfully.

She batted him back.

Then she shivered. The numbness had left her body, and she realized just how frightfully cold she was. And, though she would never ever say it out loud, Kip had already gotten used to the strange male's jovial presence. She scooted closer to him, and the pair nuzzled together, sharing their warmth. Fell ducked his head under his tail and soon filled the chamber with his snores.

Kip looked to the entrance of the den. The night outside was full of the calls of night creatures. And when she pricked her ears, she could hear the yowls of the jungle cat growing further and further away.

The vixen heaved a sigh and laid her head down next to Fell's. Her stiff body was full of aches and pains, but her stomach was full for the first time in months.

She could stay here. Just for the night.

She fell asleep, planning to be long gone come sunrise.

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