Little Foxes by Michael Morpurgo Read Free Book Online

boys. You go and lie on your bed till you feel better, there’s a good boy.’
    Billy threw himself face down onto his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He had to bite on his knuckles to hold back the scream of anguish that threatened to burst from him. He was consumed with a terrible grief at the loss of his family, and a raging anger at the ignorance and cruelty that had killed them. As he lay there he could find only one vestige of hope remaining, the possibility that there could be one of them still left alive. Aunty May had not been sure whether it was three or four. He clung desperately to that hope, took his grey feather out from under his pillow and willed it to be three. When Aunty May came in later on he pretended to be asleep; breathing deeply as she covered him with the blanket. He waited until she had gone to bed and the light in the passage had been switched off before slipping out of the flat.
    It was one of those rare summer nights when the white light of the moon was strong enough to all but eliminate the omnipotent glare of the street lamps. Billy ran down across the estate towards the Wilderness, his grey feather in his pocket. He ran all the way there, half hoping, half dreading what he would find. Once in the Wilderness he moved silently through the graveyard and into the ruined chapel itself. The sound of his own panting filled the ruins as he sat down on the mound and waited.
    There was destruction all around him. All the entrances to the den had been caved in, and great mounds of fresh earth covered each one. He put his ear to the ground and listened. He could hear nothing but his own heartbeat and his own frantic breathing. He lay there for some time, hoping and praying that one of them might have survived the gassing, but as time passed and he heard nothing he feared the worst, but refused to believe it. It took several minutes of frantic digging to clear away enough earth from one of the holes so that he could call down into the den. ‘It’s me. It’s Billy. You can come out now. It’s me. It’s Billy.’ But there was no answering movement from inside the earth, no sound at all.
    Time after time Billy’s hopes were raised, only to be dashed again. There was a sudden rustling in the undergrowth that turned out to be a small hedgehog shuffling through the leaves, then a noisy commotion on the canal when something alarmed the ducks and sent them quacking into the air. Billy reached the canal in time to see a big fish jump – a marauding pike, he thought. Billy searched his Wilderness from end to end. He called down every rabbit hole; he even climbed the walls of the ruined chapel to check any window-ledge where a fox might be lying up. It was all for nothing.
    Towards dawn he found himself wandering disconsolately towards the canal bank where he sat down and at last accepted that all his foxes had been taken from him, that none of them had survived. The great white moon shone up at him from the water and he threw a stone at it angrily to stop it staring at him. It shattered into a million jewels before piecing itself together once again. He had no tears left now. Exhausted and drained of all care, Billy lay down and slept.
    The swan came out of the reeds, gliding across the water, and looked on as the boy slept. In his sleep Billy dreamed she was there and he smiled.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    A COLD NOSE IN HIS EAR TRIED TO DRAG him from his dreams. He was dreaming that the swan had brought the foxes to him, and he did not want the dream to end, for he knew he was dreaming and that nothing now could bring them to him. He did not want to be interrupted and so he pushed the cold nose away. But the nose would not be denied and nudged him awake. Billy opened his eyes. The fox sat beside him, his tail curled round his feet, looking down at him. Billy still revelled in his dream. It was only when the fox yawned and came to lie down beside him, laying his head on his arm that Billy began to understand that