alittlehinky | Fox Friend? Fox Friend. ((For Loki))

Fox Friend? Fox Friend. ((For Loki))

Despite his leg braces and mild infirmity, Cricket is inclined to walk everywhere. He works on cars, he knows cars top-to-bottom, but he doesn't own one, and it's likely he never will. In the mountains, a bicycle is impractical, and so it's either walk or beg rides.

He prefers walking.

As such, he knows the trails around Blackwater Station as well as the Bondurants, or better. He can find the best fishing spots around the lake reliably, he knows where they keep stills, and he knows where they hunt and set snares. Today he's surprised to find evidence of someone else having been hunting on their land. Granted, boundaries up here are a little blurry. As long as the hunter isn't in danger of hurting someone or taking huge amounts of wild game, the Bondurants probably wouldn't care. In this case, though, there are a lot of traps. The kind with teeth, for catching bears and other fur animals. Forrest would not approve, not because he objects strongly to trapping, but because Jack or Howard or some customer crossing the ground drunk after closing could step into one and lose a foot.

Cricket's sprung and removed two, leaving them at the Station, and he's looking for more, as well as any sign of who might've set them. It's not his place to tell the hunter off, but Forrest sure as hell will.

It's the sounds of scuffling that lead him to the next trap, and he looks dismayed at once. This one has prey in it, and it's still alive and trying to escape. "Aw, fuck...you poor thing..."

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It wasn't the first time he'd slipped away. Loki had a distinct fascination with the mortal realm and the short-lived humans who populated it after all. And this area, mountainous and full of trees, creeks, secret places was close enough to settlements that he could both indulge his own wild nature as well as curiosity. So the Bondurant's land had been host to him before, but aside from the usual snares, easy enough to dodge, it was generally safe.

At least usually. Today was the exception to the rule, the one that found him trapped in the jaws of a particularly nasty trap, fuzzy tail boldly bottle-brushed as he twisted to try and get a better angle to see just what the damage was.

The size of the teeth meant it was likely down to his fae heritage that he hadn't lost the paw that had been snared, but until he got loose that wasn't a very comforting thought. Debating tracing where the chain was anchored to dig the whole thing loose, his ears pricked immediately at the sound of someone approaching, white belly low to the ground as he went still, luminous green gaze skipping towards the person who spoke up.

Not the trapper. He'd seen this one around before, and he seemed to be generally a good sort. But trapped as Loki was, he still bore wary watching.

Okay, the little fox looks alert, bright-eyed and wary, so it can't have lost but so much blood. That's good. Cricket stays where he is for a moment, craning his neck to see if he can see how bad the damage is. There's definitely a paw caught, but he can't tell whether there's a break or not.

He's certainly not going to leave it to die--or to chew its leg off, or whatever a stuck fox might do. Coming too close is likely to get him bitten, though.

After a moment's thought, he shrugs off the threadbare jacket he's wearing, intending to wrap the animal up in it while he tries to spring the trap. "A'ight, well, it ain't my trap for whatever that's worth. It's not supposed to be here, and I reckon you are, so it's the trap that's got to go. Let's see what I can do."

He takes a step closer, speaking low and soothing, but the look of the fox itself gives him pause. "...you got the greenest eyes I ever did see on a fox. That's so pretty..."

Loki debated what to do here. He could play the angry wild animal. Snarl and snap and be otherwise pissy, that would be absolutely easy. But at the same time the human was being gentle and wary and appropriately respectful. Maybe it wouldn't hurt things to play sweet.

Especially not if the mortal was going to be buttering him up with compliments, the little fox unable to help the way he preened at the commentary. Yes please do admire him Cricket, he is an absolutely lovely fox!

Cricket was expecting fox snarls or screams, and when none seem forthcoming he studies the animal's expression a little more closely. Fox body language seems halfway between cat and dog sometimes, so he's not 100% sure what it means, but the ears aren't back, and the twitch of the tail seems more excited than apprehensive.

"You sure are," he decides to expound on his premise. "Just the prettiest fox I've ever seen. Not just the eyes, either, you got beautiful fur and a nice feathery tail..."

His voice remains low and lulling as he gets closer. "A'ight, you handsome little troublemaker, I'm gonna be stiff getting down, so don't be scared."

Kneeling gently is not a possibility with the leg braces. He has to make an ungainly crouch and then sort of collapse onto his right hip with a grunt.

Oh! Well, if the human was going to continue with the compliments, then Loki would happily bask in them!

He stayed as he was, hunkered down on his belly so Cricket wouldn't feel nervous, ears swiveling at the sound of the metal brace during his less than graceful collapse-slash-kneeling. With a soft chuff, he stretched his neck enough to sniff at the closest brace, fuzzy nose crinkling delicately as he let out a low disgruntled sound.

Well, that's adorable, and Cricket may be misinterpreting the reaction, but he grins a little. "Nawp, those aren't traps on my legs. Just braces. I had rickets when I was little. Bones grew up crooked."

He kind of wants to pet him, but that might be a step too far. Once he decides the fox is calm, he tosses the coat lightly over its back. He leaves the head uncovered and doesn't try to wrap the fabric tight yet because the fox seems pretty trusting and unlikely to snap, but wanting it available just in case. He can't afford to go to a doctor for a bite, and possibly have to get rabies shots--not that the fox looks rabid. Anything but.

"Okay, let's do this. Hol' on a minute and I'll have you out of there." The mechanisms on the trap are weathered and a little rusty. It's probably on the old side. Still, Cricket's hands a pretty strong, and with a couple twists he manages to unlock it, then slowly pry the jaws open.

Mortal medicine was weird. But, it did mean the young man could move around on his own, regardless of how the smell of the metal and oil made Loki's little black nose tickle.

He's not looking forward to the trap being messed with, ears flicking ever so slightly back as Cricket gets to work, but the fox pointedly turns his face away from the human so he didn't worry as much about being bitten. There was however plenty of disgruntled grumbling, the fox forcing himself to stay still until he felt the jaws of the trap easing around his leg, enough that he could scramble out from it.

Not very far, both from tangling up in the jacket over him and the injury itself, but he was still wildly delighted to be free of the horrible trap regardless.

"It's okay, it's okay...only gonna hurt for a second, I promise," he murmurs as the fox grumbles. When he pulls free, Cricket makes a little noise of concern. If the fox runs off, there's no way he can catch it to help it.

Maybe it's a good thing he had the jacket over it after all. Rolling forward, he crawls to catch up and gathers the animal closer in the jacket, uncaring about the blood, but trying to be gentle--and also not to get bitten.

"Okay, take it easy, you're a'ight. You gonna let me look at that leg? Be best if I can clean and bandage it up..."

WOAH. Hello friend, who gave you permission to pick him up? The little fox kicked out with his uninjured leg, though it was more surprised flailing at being scooped up than any coordinated escape efforts.

But so far Cricket was calm enough, and soothing enough, that grumbling and grousing, tail flicking or no, it seemed the fox was willing to let him take a look. At least for now, it would remain to be seen if he could be bribed to allow actual medical care.

Still laboring under the illusion that this is a fox--albeit unusually pretty and intelligent--Cricket didn't think he needed permission. He's not surprised by the flailing, though, and remains gentle, murmuring softly, "Okay, it's okay, I ain't gonna hurt you. Hold still a second--"

If the fox were determined to get away, he probably could. Cricket holds him like one would a crotchety cat, not a wild animal that might turn on you, gathering up the jacket around him loosely.

"...well," he says after a minute of frowning. "I don't think it's broken. You're a lucky little fox. Don't look fit to run on, though. Ain't like I'm a doctor, but I wanna take you home and wash it out, at least."

"Then again, that depends on if you'll cooperate." He smiles down at the fox. "You seem like you understand I'm tryin' to help, at least. Unless you're just stickin' around for the compliments, Pretty-Eyes."

He was totally a normal fox. There was nothing at all strange about this extremely calm fox who was watching Cricket with perked ears as if he understood everything that was being said to him.

Cricket might be rewarded by a shift, the fox leaning up to snuffle at him, cold little nose poking his chin as Loki decided to somewhat investigate his unexpected rescuer.

And if his tail swished a bit more for the continued compliments, well he was never adverse to being buttered up.

When the fox moves, he goes still, blinking down at him. The cold nose nudging his chin prompts a soft squeak in the back of his throat, then a tiny giggle. "Um...okay. That tickles a little."

"You gonna let me be your friend, then? I'll get you somethin' to eat, too. Won't try to keep you penned up, but maybe you'll stay close by while you get better."

Rising back up is difficult; he has to hold the fox with one arm while levering himself up with the other, but he manages to get up at last with a soft grunt. "I'll come back and pick up the trap later. Bring it to Forrest. Damn poachers."

"Let's go home, beautiful. You like scrambled eggs? Apples and honey?"

Once Cricket starts trying to move, Loki settles some, laying flat in his grasp head leaning against his arm to make it less likely he'd be pitched in the process. So far the mortal had been treating him nicely which he liked, was very free with the compliments which he liked even better, and seemed likely to continue spoiling him which to be real he liked best of all.

Especially with the mention of food that had his ears pricking like tiny satellites, gaze turning towards Cricket with a brief windmilling of his tail in response.

...oh. That's genuinely a surprise, although he was hoping the fox wouldn't struggle. Cricket breaks into a grin, like this has made his day. Which it has, really; not the fox being injured and lost, but being willing to be friendly and let him help. "Maybe you've had human friends before, huh?"

He doesn't think this is a tame fox, if there is such a thing, but since it seems willing to compromise with him, it must be somewhat used to humans. Either that, or easily bribed. The mention of food catches its attention, obviously, and--

Wait, is that normal? Probably not. "You know exactly what I was just sayin', don't you?"

Because he didn't say the word 'food', specifically. Sure, a smart animal has a vocabulary it understands, but not usually a big enough one to recognize what dishes are on offer.

Edited (typo) 2019-10-24 14:28 (UTC)

Absolutely not tame, but this wasn't the first time Loki had made himself a guest of humans. Maybe not so blatantly, but he'd sidled up and played nice for mischief or attention once or twice in his life.

The gaze on Cricket was entirely benign. There was no way the fox knew exactly, right? Eggs and apples were common enough that he'd surely heard the names before and learned what those were. Surely if he'd been around humans before he'dve figured that much out.

Him understanding otherwise was simply silly, right?

Well...foxes do run into henhouses often enough. Maybe it heard the word 'eggs' before? He reckons a fox would eat a raw egg as well as a scrambled one. All animals like eggs.

"Either way," he says aloud, "sounds like lunch plans are settled. I don't think we got any meat right now...maybe some fatback but that's not really for eatin' by itself, but if you stick around a while I'll catch us some fish."

The journey back to his place will be on the slow side, Cricket's tread uneven but sure on the rocky ground. Still, it won't be long before a small cabin comes into view. The area around it is not well-manicured, although there's a vegetable garden and a net over a stand of blackberry bushes that are probably volunteers, but they want to keep the birds and squirrels out. It's not a pretty place, all weathered with a roof of wooden shingles, but the windows are clean and the porch is swept.

"Let's get your foot cleaned up," Cricket says, nudging the door open with a toe, "And then we'll eat."

Surely that was the reason. What self-respecting fox wasn't aware of eggs?

Whatever the case, the fox was content to stay tucked in Cricket's grasp, letting the young man carry him towards his little home. It was a small, humble place, but something about the wild air to the cabin and land appealed to him. He wasn't budging from the man's arms, but he was craning his neck to sniff with interest in the direction of the blackberries as they passed.

He wasn't thrilled with the idea of his leg being poked at, but he also knows that it has to happen. So he'd endure it, especially if he was going to get attention and food after.

"Oho," he chuckles, "I see that cute little nose goin'. You like blackberries? I'll get you berries. We got plenty to share."

In the front room, there's an old woman slumped in a cushioned chair next to the window, with some knitting on her lap. There's a table beside her with magazines, some sort of drink, and what appears to be a whistle. Cricket looks over at her for a moment, but the chair is rocking gently and she seems to be asleep, or mostly there.

"That's Aunt Winnie," he murmurs to the fox. "We'll try not to wake 'er."

He carries him into what must be his own bedroom, a modest affair with a narrow mattress on a wooden frame, several blankets, and a desk with a few books and tools on it. Setting the fox down on the bed, he hastens to fetch some water and towels from the bathroom, sitting by him when he returns.

"I had a pet cat once, a few years back," he says softly. "I know you ain't a pet. Foxes ain't pets, but it's nice to have someone to talk to here."

Excuse you, he doesn't like blackberries.

He loves blackberries. And he is incredibly cute, thank you for noticing, Cricket!

Green eyes cast over the front room and the old woman in the chair. Something seems off about her but then he knew that happened sometimes as mortals aged. Their minds would do funny things to them. He didn't seem interested in waking poor Aunt Winnie though, sprawling on the narrow bed once he was set down with a quiet little grunt, ears pricking as Cricket spoke when he returned. Not a pet, and he was glad Cricket knew that, but he could see the mortal was lonely, so there was no harm in repaying his kindness by being a good listener for him.

Maybe he'll try to make a pie or a cobbler, Cricket thinks. He never gets the crust right, but Aunt Winnie would eat it anyway, and so would he, and probably the fox wouldn't be as interested in the crust as the berry filling. Mm, blackberry and apple pie? That sounds good, too.

He must be hungry.

He begins by tucking a towel under the wounded foot and then just cleaning it up with cool water, hoping to ease some of the inflammation. "Aunt Winnie ain't quite right in the head," he explains as he works, callused hands gentle and slow. "Just age, I guess. She needs me to take care of her an' make sure she eats and gets a bath and all of that. She mostly raised me so it's only fair. Just gets lonely when it's just me and her and all she wants to talk about is thinkin' someone in the woods is waiting to steal from her. Like we got anything to steal in the first place."

"I got friends, I just can't be around 'em all the time." Pausing in the cleansing, he holds out his hand to let the fox sniff it, half hoping he'll be allowed to scratch behind its ears.

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Fox Friend? Fox Friend. ((For Loki))

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