Following the Fox Through the Frost

Following the Fox Through the Frost. The morning was cold and still. Frost covered everything like a blanket of sugar. The grass crunched. The puddles had turned to ice. And the bare trees sparkled in the pale winter sun. That morning, Rosie walked quietly through the woodland. Her breath made little clouds in the air. She pulled her woolly hat down over her ears. The forest was so quiet that she could hear her own heartbeat. Then... she saw something move. Two shapes slipped between the silver birch trees. One was big and one was small. They had bushy tails and pointed ears. They were foxes. A mother fox and her little cub. Very slowly, Rosie stood still. She did not want to scare them. She wanted to see where they were going. So she followed... very, very quietly. The mother fox padded BEHIND a fallen log. The little cub followed close behind her. Their paws left tiny prints in the frost. Carefully, Rosie crept behind the log too. She peeked over the top. The foxes had stopped by a holly bush. The red berries looked bright against the white frost. The cub sniffed at them curiously. Then the mother fox moved again. She ducked underneath a low, twisting branch. The little cub wriggled underneath it too, her fluffy tail brushing the frozen leaves. On hands and knees, Rosie crawled underneath the branch. She felt the cold twigs tickle her back. She giggled softly... then covered her mouth. Shh. She must be quiet. The foxes walked on. They moved through a patch of crispy brown leaves. Crunch, crunch, crunch went their paws. The sound was like a whispered secret. Step by step, Rosie tiptoed through the leaves. She tried to walk where the foxes had walked. The leaves crackled beneath her boots. The mother fox stopped. Her ears twitched. She looked back over her shoulder. In that moment, Rosie froze. Had the fox seen her? Her heart beat fast. But the mother fox just blinked her golden eyes... and carried on walking. Now the foxes went behind a great oak tree. Its trunk was wide and covered in soft green moss. The cub paused to sniff a mushroom growing at the roots. Quick as a flash, Rosie hid behind the oak tree. She peeked around the edge. The foxes were heading toward a steep bank covered in ivy and ferns. The mother fox slipped underneath a curtain of hanging ivy. The cub tumbled in after her, yipping softly. From her hiding place, Rosie crouched down low. She crawled closer, staying hidden behind a clump of bracken. She could see a dark opening in the bank... a hole, lined with soft earth and dry leaves. It was the foxes' home. Their earth. Inside, it looked warm and safe. The mother fox curled into a ball. The little cub snuggled close against her soft red fur. Their eyes began to close. Watching from afar, Rosie smiled. She sat very still for a moment. The frost glittered all around her. The woodland was peaceful and quiet. The foxes were home. Then, very gently, Rosie stood up. She brushed the cold leaves from her knees. It was time for her to go home too. She walked back through the crunchy leaves. She ducked underneath the low branch. She stepped BEHIND the fallen log. The path home felt familiar now. She had followed the foxes' trail... and learned the secret places of the woodland. At the edge of the trees, Rosie turned and looked back. The forest sparkled silver and white. Somewhere deep inside, two foxes slept safe and warm. "Goodbye, little foxes," whispered Rosie. Then she walked home through the frosty morning, feeling happy and warm inside. The end.