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Once upon a time, there was a fox in the garden.
Its fur was smooth and soft as silk, and its fangs were sharp and harsh as steel. It sunk its teeth into its fellows, and laughed as scarlet stained its fur.
But one day, the fox came upon a cat. A starving, mewling thing, wretched and small, trembling under its paws.
The cat looked up with wide eyes, and asked if it was about to die.
The fox opened its maw, and turned away.
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The fox was a crafty beast, and taught the cat everything it knew. Beware the snake, it purred, and his minions of war. Beware the law, it hissed, for it will be our downfall.
The cat stared with wide eyes, and repeated every word in turn. The fox smiled. A cruel, adorable smile, smoke escaping its mouth from sticks shoved between its teeth.
The fox offered one to the cat. The cat, not used to anything else, accepted.
They sat together at the edge of the world. The cat asked if the fox was proud. If it was safe.
The fox tucked its arm around the cat's shoulders, and ruffled her hair, and said not a word.
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The cat played with rabbits. Spoke well of beasts and reptiles. Frolicked wildly amongst the grass. The fox stood to the side, eyes tracing the cat's every move.
Eventually, the cat lifted its head and encouraged the fox to join her. It's nice, the cat insisted, to spend time with others.
The fox opened its maw, and turned away.
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One day, the fox came across a treasure. It was an ancient and magical thing, barely rusted from centuries of war and civilization. The fox touched its hands to the treasure, and gazed upon the night sky with wonder.
The cat stared, dazzled, and asked if she could see it as well.
The fox tucked its treasure away in its hoard, and promised that one day it would all be hers.
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The fox had a family, once. A wonderful, idealistic creation. They valued the fox for its wit and talents, and saw no value in anything else.
The cat watched from afar. The cat asked the fox if it could be valued like that too.
The fox smiled its cruel smile, and chirped that the cat will never be quite like her.
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The fox was lonely. The fox was treasured like a precious gem in a pile of dirt. The fox was something different, something altogether special, and the fox grew tired.
Everyone lauded the fox, praising it for everything it did. This was how the fox grew proud, and this was how the fox was led to ruin.
The fox started indulging itself long ago. It started small, with small thefts and jokes, but before long the fox was coughing blood and flushing red.
The fox had been rotten long before the cat. The fox stared up at the heavens, the Angels, and asked if salvation was possible.
The Angels said naught in reply. And the fox grew more foolish, and more repugnant, and the cat stayed by its side all the while.
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The fox was not a fox. It could be so much more than a fox. It could be whatever it wished.
The fox smiled at the cat, and became a lion. It teased the rabbit, and became a hare.
The fox was everything, was it not? The fox was everything imaginable, every ounce of flesh and rot and smoke lacing its bloodstream. It couldn't become the earth, it couldn't become the water, but it could still become something far greater.
The fox was the cat's entire world.
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One day, one beautiful day, the cat was finally gifted the fox's favorite treasure. The fox had been leading itself to ruin, and tucked the tiny thing into the cat's hands with a smile on its face and a prayer in its heart.
The cat was overjoyed. Finally, it could be something. Finally, the fox was proud of something other than itself, or so she believed.
The cat touched the treasure, and admired the night sky. The fox leaned against her side, taking in the sights and wondering just how far its might could reach.
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The birds held a contest, far away from their den. The fox joked about the incompetence of the winner. The cat watched a crown place itself upon his head.
The cat stared at the ruling bird from afar, lord of all that was holy, and thanked the Angels she never had to meet the man in person.
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The fox reminded the cat of many things. Beware the snake, trust the fox, trust herself and little more.
The cat visited its old friend, the rabbit. The rabbit asked the cat how things were going. The cat could only think of events involving the fox.
The cat said all was well, and all manner of things were well. The rabbit smiled. The cat smiled back.
The stars shone bright in the night sky.
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The cat was invited to the roof, one rainy day.
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The cat was alone.
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The cat was alone.
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The cat was alone.
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The cat was alone.
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The cat was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone was alone is alone is alone alone alone you were are already always already alone.
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Once upon a time, there was a fox in the garden.
She smiled at the cat, trying to coax it out of hiding. The cat turned away.
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The fox wandered off. The cat is alone.
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You are alone, are you not?
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You wonder, sometimes, if the Angels laugh at you.
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Once upon a time, there was a cat, and it held a treasure tight between its paws and wished desperately for salvation.
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You are alone.
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The cat stood at the edge of the roof. The wind howled in her ears. Her feet dangled on the precipice.
The fox called to the cat. The cat opened its maw, and stepped away.
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The cat
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You
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The
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"Ma'am? Hello?"
Callie Avion blinks, and green eyes meet burnished brown. She coughs, a fragile and tentative gesture. "Right. Sorry. What were you saying?"
"You… were ordering?" they tilt their head, sweeping brown horns tucked around their ears. "Food?"
Their tail brushes against her ankle. She bites her lip, shrugging her shoulders. "Milk- milk's fine, thanks. And- the check?"
Her waiter squints, as though on the verge of pointing out she's only sat at the table for five minutes. Then they nod politely, and finally step away.
She exhales. Chipped nails scratch at her shoulders, russet hair tickling her neck. The sun shines high in the sky.
There are no clouds. No signs of rain, no signs of a storm.
The world feels open, and crowded, and empty, and perhaps it was a bad idea to go out after all.
Callie barely hears her own words as she mumbles in thanks, and signs her name, pacing out the door with her hands shoved roughly into her pockets.
She closes her eyes. The night sky is a long way away. Her hands drift to her throat, looping around the tiny silver thread cuffing against her skin.
It's a beautiful day outside. A beautiful, lonely day.
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The cat wonders how the fox is doing.
The fox wonders if the cat misses her.
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Once upon a time, there was a bird in a garden.
It looked up at the night sky, seeing a comet, and trembled with fear.