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

[alittlehinky]

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..."

Comments

[alittlehinky]

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."

[magpiemythos]

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.

[alittlehinky]

"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."

[magpiemythos]

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.

[alittlehinky]

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.