The Fox Cub Bold by Colin Dann Read Free Book Online

because of his uselessness, he was subjecting another creature to risks he had no right to expect her to share. She – and the crow – had saved him from death. The debt was paid. So, soon after her back was turned, he hauled himself carefully to his feet. His long sleep had refreshed him and he was able to limp out of sight, round the other side of the thickets.
    Bold was not sure what to do next. All that he knew was that he would no longer expose Shadow to the danger of being in his company. If possible, he would make his own slow way to the pheasant coverts and the refuge of her set, and if not . . . so be it! His only concern was that she might come looking for him, but he hoped that she would eventually have the sense to make ground to her own home before dawn threatened. He set his immediate sights on reaching the nearest farmed field. This lay on the other side of a hedgerow which formed the border between farmland and the open country. He knew Shadow would never search for him in such a place.
    The darkness, at least, obscured his intentions from her as he staggered into the gloom. It was a cold, starlit night without a breath of air and the frosty grass made a crisp whispering noise as he trod it underfoot. The spectral form of a Barn Owl glided over his head on its silent wings. He saw it hover over the hedgerow, then swoop down, pounce, and rise again almost in one uninterrupted movement. So there was food there too! Perhaps he would be lucky enough to kill something himself for a change, if he did not set himself too distant a target.
    Bold’s damaged leg had loosened up slightly during his recent bouts of enforced exercise and he was surprised – and pleased – at the way he managed to keep going. His exhaustion the previous night had largely been due, he decided, to clambering in and out of the ditch. Now he began to hope that he might be over the worst.
    As the first faintly perceptible lightening of the sky heralded the end of the night, Bold lurched into the hedgerow. It was made up of a thick band of closely-knit vegetation that was a perfect resting-place, and here he was to have his first piece of good luck for days. He discovered another fox’s abandoned earth, and inside it were the remains of numerous catches. Stale and smelly though they were, the famished Bold made a hearty meal. Used to poor fare for so long, it was the closest thing to a feast for him since the last pheasant. So, replete and well content, he gratefully fell into a much-needed sleep.
    The next day he awoke before the light had faded and immediately finished off the last few scraps. He left the earth and looked out across a field sown with swede. Here was another food source that he could use in necessity, for the young vegetables were just beginning to thrust themselves out of the soil. Bold’s spirits rose considerably. He felt stronger, more hopeful than he had been for a long time. Now, if he could only prove to himself he could still catch his prey – no matter how insignificant – then he really would feel he was on the road to recovery. There would be no need then for Shadow’s set or her ministrations.
    Bold set himself to explore the hedgerow and its occupants. Songbirds returning to their roosts fluted and warbled amongst the remaining November greenery. There were inviting rustlings amongst the twigs and dead leaves underfoot. A squirrel raced along the top of the shrubbery like a furry goblin, intent on finding a safe perch to enjoy a hazel nut. Bold slunk along with his uneven gait, ears cocked, nose working overtime to identify every new scent. He stopped dead as he spied a vole squatting on a low twig, balancing on its hind legs while it examined some bryony berries. It was at eye level and well within reach. The fox crept forward another couple of centimetres, holding his bad leg out of the way. The vole remained unaware of his presence. Another centimetre. And another. Snap! Bold’s jaws caught on the