The Fox Cub Bold (5 page)

‘Very well,’ said Bold. ‘Then the cub of the Farthing Wood Fox will die through lack . . . of a friend.’ He had fallen back on his last resort. The name and adventures of his father were a legend among the wild creatures for miles around.

The crow looked at him sharply. ‘
You
his offspring? But wait – it
does
make sense. Your ideals . . . the brotherhood of the Farthing Wood animals . . . Of course! Now I see it! You come from the Nature Reserve, White Deer Park. So you thought yourself wiser than your parent!’

‘Well, I’ve been . . . proved wrong,’ Bold said. ‘Now, will you help?’

‘I must try,’ said the crow in a new tone. ‘If it were discovered that I might be responsible for your death in any way, and you related to the one who founded the oath . . . well, it . . . it . . . doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘Thank goodness,’ said Bold. ‘Then go –
please
– hurry!’ As the bird leapt into the air and soared aloft, Bold murmured: ‘So, Father, even here you still seem to control me.’

It was by now high noon, and the fox knew he could not expect to see the sow badger or any of her tribe until dusk fell. He decided he must make one more attempt to rise and get back to the shelter of the ditch. A fresh danger might threaten his exposed position at any moment. Somehow, with the knowledge that help was at last at hand to buoy him up, Bold managed to stagger to his feet. There he stood for a while, swaying, his wounded leg just brushing the ground. The ditch was only a matter of a few tottering steps and then he plunged headlong into it, utterly spent.

He was startled by the sudden reappearance of the Carrion Crow.

‘It’s no use searching in the daylight for badgers,’ the bird told him. ‘They never appear until the sun sinks.’

‘But that’s hours away,’ Bold moaned. ‘I might not last that long.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the crow. ‘There is a solution.
I’ll
feed you. I’ve discovered something really good. We can share it.’

‘What is it?’ Bold asked warily, unsure of the bird’s predilections in the nature of food.

‘A rabbit carcass.’

‘Can you carry it?’

‘No, but I can tear pieces off and ferry them back.’

The crow was being very amenable. Bold was grateful. ‘You’re very kind,’ he said.

‘I’ll eat some first, shall I, and then bring some for you?’ suggested the bird.

Bold agreed. He was in no position to dispute. The crow flew away again and was gone a long time. Bold was beginning to think he had been deserted after all, when the crow alighted on the edge of the ditch, its bill loaded with a large piece of dark flesh. This was tossed in Bold’s direction and at once the crow flew off again.

The meat smelled rank, but Bold was desperate and chewed it with relish. A second piece was soon dropped to the ditch bottom. The crow returned four more times, the last time with the biggest chunk of all which it stayed to see him eat.

‘That’s the last of it,’ the bird announced afterwards.

‘I’m very obliged to you,’ said Bold.

The sun had at last begun to drop behind the horizon. It was time for the crow to renew its search. Bold gave him directions to the quarter of the game wood where lay the badger’s set. The bird disappeared.

The food had certainly put new heart into the young fox. He lay, watching the evening shadows fall, with renewed confidence in his own fate. But he hoped his friend the she-badger would be out foraging early or the crow might not find her, for he could not see well enough in complete darkness.

As it was, night had very nearly enveloped the countryside when Bold’s messenger returned once more. ‘I’ve located your four-legged friends,’ he told the fox. ‘They’re rushing about collecting what they can for you now. But I’m afraid I can’t be of any more assistance to you. I’m a day creature.’

‘Of course, I appreciate that,’ said Bold. ‘I feel a little stronger already, thanks to you. But how will the badgers find me?’

‘I really don’t know. By scent, I should think. But that’s their problem – and yours too.’

‘Did you give them
any
indication of my whereabouts?’ Bold asked.

‘Yes, vaguely.’ The crow paused, aware of the fox’s misgivings. ‘I’ll do one more thing for you,’ it said. ‘I’ll come and find you at dawn, and if they haven’t shown up I’ll lead them to you. I can’t do more.’

‘I don’t expect it,’ replied Bold. ‘And I shan’t forget this.’

‘Very well, then. Till daybreak,’ said the bird. Then he was gone, an even blacker shape against the blackness of the night sky.

It was a long journey for the badgers to make across open terrain and with their catches in their jaws. There were four of them – the sow badger and three of her progeny, now grown up. Daybreak found them still some distance from their goal, though they
had
been travelling in the right direction. The Carrion Crow spotted them easily and led them towards Bold.

The fox had lain awake most of the night, uttering occasional muffled barks to give a hint of his position. Now he dozed in the ditch, having refreshed himself by licking at the cold dew trapped in the overhanging grass stems.

The crow cawed harshly to waken him, and then, his business done, vanished in pursuit of his own breakfast. Soon the badgers came clambering into the ditch with their burdens of food. One of them had clawed up some tubers, two of them brought mice, and the sow badger had caught a great rat that had been scavenging by the gibbet. All of the offerings were welcome to the fox, and none of the animals made any noise as he devoured his food piece by piece.

Then the sow badger spoke. ‘I scarcely recognize you,’ she said.

Bold looked at her, licking his chops. ‘My fortunes have dwindled rather since last I saw you,’ he replied.

‘Perhaps you should have stayed in our wood after all,’ she observed.

‘Either way I should have fallen foul of the human enemy,’ said Bold. ‘That gamekeeper was out to get me, and he would have tried another trick.’

‘Well, I’ve seen no traps around since you left,’ said the she-badger, ‘and I’ve been very wary, so he must be content with your disappearance.’

‘That’s why we think that
now
your safest plan is to come back with us,’ said one of her offspring, and added: ‘You see, the man won’t be expecting your return.’

‘That’s good thinking,’ agreed Bold. ‘But there’s a grave difficulty. I can’t travel.’

‘Can’t you move at all?’ asked the sow badger.

‘Scarcely. Up till now I haven’t eaten for some days, you see. Maybe it might be different now – anyway, I can try.’

‘You can take it in stages. We’ll bring more food,’ she promised. ‘Then you can shelter in the set until you’ve built your strength up.’

‘I’m afraid
you’re
stranded now, though,’ said Bold uncomfortably. ‘You can’t travel back all that way in broad daylight.’

‘We’ll find cover and hide up until dusk,’ she assured him. ‘Then we can all start together.’

Bold told them of the nearby wood where he had hidden himself until recently. ‘I’ll stay here,’ he went on. ‘I’ll be quite safe – I’ve been here for days and nothing has been around to disturb me.’

The badgers made themselves scarce. Bold drowsed with a new feeling of hope in his heart. But his faith was ill-founded. He was awakened from his slumbers by a large and muscular dog – a Labrador – who was being exercised in the wood. It smelt the strong odour of fox in the air and gave tongue excitedly. In no time it had galloped up and discovered the luckless Bold cowering in his unprotected lair. Its frenzied barks brought its owner quickly toward the scene. Bold was cornered and completely helpless. His only hope was to feign death for, although this would not fool the dog, the man might be misled. So he lay stiffly on his side in a stark attitude with his tongue lolling from his open mouth, as if he had perished from cold and hunger. The man arrived, quietened the dog, and stood gazing at the animal in the ditch. Bold’s heart beat fast. The man prodded him a couple of times with his cane, but each time the fox cleverly rolled back to the self-same position, keeping himself quite rigid. Then the man muttered something to himself and called the Labrador away.

Not until Bold was sure they must be far enough away did he allow himself to stir a muscle. Now it was imperative that he find a safer retreat. He got up and peered cautiously over the top of the ditch. The coast was clear, so out he climbed. He took a few tentative steps. The food had done him some good, for he certainly felt less shaky. He looked around for a place of concealment. There was nothing close enough to hand. Then he remembered that the ditch ran right into the wood to which the badgers had retired. He wondered if he could get that far. Well, at least he would be out of sight as he dragged himself along. There was really no other choice.

The afternoon wore on as Bold limped his way through the mud and dead leaves of the ditch bottom. Of course, he was taking himself further away from his ultimate destination, but that could not be helped. By the time the first trees of the wood closed around him he knew he could go no further and so he sank down where he was. In an hour or two the badgers would be up and around and expecting him to begin another journey. But there was no possibility of that for the present. He must try and keep awake, though; otherwise, they could miss each other.

Through bleary eyes that ached for sleep he at last saw four ghostly-grey shapes moving along under the trees with the badgers’ familiar lumbering gait. He yapped to warn them of his presence.

‘Why, you’ve come quite the wrong way!’ cried the sow badger. ‘Now you’ve a long trek indeed ahead of you.’

‘Had to move – dogs,’ muttered Bold. ‘Afraid I can’t go . . . any further tonight.’

‘He’s exhausted,’ said one of the young badgers unnecessarily.

‘
Now
what do we do?’ demanded one of the others of its mother.

‘I don’t know for sure,’ she answered. ‘This is very awkward.’

‘I’m sorry,’ groaned Bold. ‘But I was lucky to escape.’

‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘I understand.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Well, if you can’t be moved, you can’t,’ she pronounced. ‘So I’ll have to stay here with you. However, there’s no need for all of us to remain behind. You three must go back – now. Four badgers in a wood without a set are too conspicuous. Off with you – and don’t stop till you’re home.’

‘I could try again tomorrow,’ Bold offered weakly.

‘Yes, well – we’ll have to,’ said the sow badger. ‘Now I must go foraging again.’

The strange wood provided less easy titbits than her familiar one. She brought him a shrew, some bitter bulbs, and a dead toad that had not been quick enough to bury itself away from the first frosts.

‘You must eat, too,’ Bold remonstrated as she watched over him.

‘I managed to dig up a few roots for myself,’ she answered unconcernedly. She followed his progress through the meal. ‘The crow told me your history,’ she informed him.

‘My history?’ Bold asked. ‘Ugh, this toad has an evil taste!’

‘Your origins.’

‘Oh – the Reserve.’

‘I’d never heard of White Deer Park. Of course, the birds know a far wider area of country. But your father – ’

‘Yes,’ sighed the young fox. ‘He does seem to be rather well known . . .’

‘Were you perhaps trying to escape from that?’ the badger asked him subtly.

‘Yes, in a way. But my main idea was to live beyond the confines of the Park. It promised a more exciting existence.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly made up for any lack of excitement in your earlier life,’ she remarked. ‘But at what cost!’

Bold said, ‘For better or worse, it’s my life now.’

The following evening the two animals prepared to begin the journey back to the game wood. They had eaten a meal together in companionable silence. Bold had chosen a name for his friend. He called her Shadow because of her constant watch over him. She was amused at the name and seemed rather pleased. They went back through the ditch this time in the opposite direction.

Bold’s stamina was still at a low ebb, but he thought he might have sufficient strength to get as far as the gorse patch where he had been lying when the shooting had begun. Their progress was painfully slow.

‘I’m relieved that your poor eye has healed,’ Shadow had said, ‘because you took that knock on my account.’ Bold did not tell her that he now realized that his sight had been permanently damaged.

They left the ditch and started across country, Bold hobbling along laboriously. He was very conscious of the fact that his companion was exposing herself to danger because of his slowness. There was almost no real cover until they were amongst the gorse thickets. If daylight should come before they reached them, he must make her run on ahead.

However, they reached shelter without mishap while the darkness held out. For some time during the last stretch of ground Bold had stumbled along blindly, willing his protesting body forward in a sort of haze of exhaustion. When they got amongst the gorse he crashed to the ground like a stone, certain that he could never rise again.

‘Bold fox, brave fox,’ Shadow murmured compassionately. But he didn’t hear her.