[Child of the 7th Age]

Child's post for a small red fox:

Vixen hid behind the tall oak tree, surprised to glimpse such a long procession of travellers slowly advancing down the road. She had never seen so many two-leggeds gathered in one spot before. She wondered what they could possibly be doing. Her black nose twitched eagerly as she watched the travellers dismount from their ponies and carts, sit down in the grass, and, taking out baskets and dishes overflowing with food, proceed to eat their lunch. In eager anticipation, Vixen cocked her bushy tail, which was the same red-brown as the rest of her coat, but with a little white tip at the end. She flicked it back and forth, anticipating the feast that would soon be forthcoming. The odors were delightful, and soon her stomach had begun to growl.

Vixen did not usually search for food at this particular time of day. She generally preferred to prowl and hunt under cover of darkness or in the very early hours of the morning. But she had a burrow filled with ten hungry kits, and it seemed that they never had enough to eat. She'd spent the morning scavanging for berries and grasses, eating a bit herself and bringing the rest home to her little ones. Now she was looking for meat.

Carefully, she weighed the possibilities. If this had been a band of the Big Folk, discretion would have gotten the better part of valor, and Vixen would never have approached the party in broad daylight. But these were not Big Folk. They looked a bit like Men but also suspiciously like very large rabbits, especially with those prominent hairy feet, none of which were encased in shoes. Vixen couldn't quite make up her mind what to do. But soon the drifting aroma of dried and roasted meats became too overpowering to resist.

She picked out a family near the end of the procession. They were seated on the ground eating their lunch. There were some lively hens in the cart, all cooped up in a box. Vixen wished she could undo the latch and let the chickens out but that didn't seem like a practical idea. Then she saw it: a lovely roast chicken sitting inside a basket right on the front seat of the cart. The little rabbit folk had apparently set it aside to eat later, perhaps for supper or tea. No one was paying the slightest attention to the cart. When these Little Folk ate, they gave it their all and were oblivious to the rest of the world.

Vixen took a mouthful of air and made a dash forward, scurrying towards the cart on four black legs as speedily as she could. With a single leap, she landed on top of the chicken coop, just when the two hens began to cluck and flap their wings. Springing off the coop and onto the seat, she stuck her twitching black nose into the picnic basket, and was rewarded for her efforts with a fine roast chicken. Several of the rabbit folk eating lunch suddenly began to shriek and one came forward carrying a stick. Vixen skillfully twisted her body to evade the assault and, holding the prized chicken in her mouth, again landed on the ground, barrelling forward and evading everyone who tried to chase her.

The last thing she remembered was scampering over another set of cloths that had also been spread out on the ground; these belonged to another family who apparently called themselves the "Whitfoots". In her haste to escape, Vixen ploughed into a large pitcher of apple cider. The cider spread over the cloth, quickly submerging the rest of the food. Vixen's small paws triumphantly trampled on the remains of the lunch as she made a beeline for the edge of the road, disappearing into a grove of bracken and a tangled thicket of thornbushes.