Hammond the Fox King: (by pv)

There once was a large castle surrounded on all sides by a deep forest, where wild beasts made their home. The inhabitants of the forest, for the most part, stayed their distance from the castle, and kept to the inner reaches of the woods where the King's hunters would not go. Only the young did not understand the danger of approaching the forest's edge, and those young who went astray would often find themselves being served for the royal supper. No matter how many times the mature animals would remind them, they would still venture out with curious excitement, and oftentimes they would not return.

So the stern fox Oren found himself day after day repeating into his son Jonas's ears the warning, but the little fox jumped through the forest carelessly without acknowledging his pleading father. One day, after chasing all the small rodents they could see with no avail, they had to give up their hunt out of exhaustion and accept their hunger. As the sky darkened and the father grew tired, Jonas only grew hungrier. When his father was curled up and asleep, he decided to leave the foxhole in search of something to eat. Jonas had grown more confident in his few months hunting with his father, and summoned up his courage to explore the moonlit woods alone.

He crept along the forest floor for hours, searching for prey, but found nothing. All the animals were asleep except for him. At last he gave up, for he was too tired to continue draining his energy with sneaking, and was ready to go to sleep. But as Jonas walked along the paths, he could not seem to find his way back. Everything looked the same at night. As he walked back and forth through the trails he found himself panicking. The little fox regretted ever leaving the foxhole by himself. But in time he composed himself, and tried to look at the situation in another light. “Perhaps I can go explore further out. There's no father to stop me. Surely the dreaded castle is dark by now and all the evil men are asleep.”

Jonas turned around and headed towards the faint light in the distance. At first it was barely discernible from the moonlight, but as he walked farther he saw the castle's light grow brighter until he could see the torches there in front of him. The fire flickered softly and cast deep valleys of shadow on the castle walls. The curious animal stood there mesmerized, leaning over the tree trunk to get a better look. No guards seemed to be out and he thought it a perfect opportunity to explore further. Jonas returned to his four legged pose and crept down the hill, his chest grazing the freshly cut grass. He had never touched his paws to cut grass, and enjoyed the feeling very much. But still he kept a keen eye on all his surroundings, in case a human jumped out from some unknown hiding spot.

He made it to the castle entrance without a disturbance, and carefully stepped into the light that covered the front step. The door was smaller than he expected, and he wondered if he was at the main entrance or some other side door. He placed his paws gently on the wooden bolt and leaned onto the door, placing his ears on the surface to listen. Only silence...then the sound of footsteps far away. Jonas jumped back in panic and searched for a place to hide, but the place was bare. There was only the forest to run to. The fox hurried up the hill, pulling up clumps of grass and dirt as he ran, and made it safely to the trees, just as the door opened and a portly old man stepped out, fully dressed in royal shades of blue. He opened his arms wide, like an actor would expecting praise from his audience, then let them fall and swing from side to side. After letting out a big sigh, he began to take deep breaths, as he paced back and forth along the entrance. He took three breaths in all, then returned promptly inside, with a look of gentle satisfaction on his face.

The little fox was puzzled, and stood gaping at the closed door for sometime. After a few minutes, guards arrived to take their place outside, and deciding that it was no longer safe to stay around, he returned to his journey back home. The sun emerged somewhere in the sky and Jonas had an easier time finding the path, for he could now recognize the way in the light. Just before his father woke up, the little fox assumed his position alongside him, and pretended to sleep. But he could not think of anything besides the castle, and the strange actions of the royal man. As he imagined his return there the following night, his thoughts turned to dreams and he slept until his father woke him.

Again they tried to hunt but caught nothing the entire day. Oren blamed their misfortune on the castle, complaining that the king and his hunters had killed and eaten all their meals. Upon hearing this the little fox's stomach ached even more, and with this his determination to avenge the foxes and all the other predators grew. Jonas daydreamed of being the hero of the forest, of infiltrating the castle and ending the unfair hunt. But he knew better than to tell his father, for he would be punished. He kept his dreams to the night, when reality disappeared and he could approach the magnificent castle alone. He also avoided telling his friends, except for one, whom he trusted would keep it to himself. Besides, his friend Clyde rarely spoke to the other foxes. One night, desperate to show off his discovery to someone else, Jonas invited Clyde to accompany him.

As they raced through the forest, Jonas told him about the castle in between heavy breaths.

“Every night...a fat man comes out to breathe. Not long after...he leaves...do two guards appear.” Clyde slowed down as the light ahead became noticeable, and Jonas followed suit. In his excitement, Jonas almost forgot the importance of staying hidden. The castle emerged over the hill, and both foxes came to a steady crawl. Jonas admired its beauty, and thought to himself as he descended the lawn that one day it would be his.

Jonas introduced his friend to his nocturnal routine. They listened at the door for footsteps, ran to the woods to hide, and watched the man come out and breathe the night air to himself. Why did the man seem to enjoy himself so much, Jonas wondered. He grew more and more disgusted of his pleasured smile each night, and vowed to one day bring the man home for supper. He was fat, and would feed his family and all their kin for many days.

After the man returned inside, Jonas noticed a sliver of yellow light still left on the steps. The door was open! He realized the opportunity; the guards had not yet taken their positions. The two little foxes jumped down the hill and squeezed in silently through the crack, and there they were, within the castle. The shine and contrast of the inner walls dazed them for a few moments, until they heard the voice of an angry man, and they searched quickly for a place to hide. The cupboard was the only furniture around, and although he did not want to scratch the precious surface with his claws, Jonas climbed inside, pulled his friend in, and shut the doors tightly.

Clyde's fur bristled with fear, and he shivered violently, knocking the cupboard from side to side.

“Stop it Clyde!” Jonas snapped.

“I can't! I don't want them to eat me!” he whimpered back.

The voice became clearer as the man progressed down the hall.

“I'm going to sleep now!” the man yelled. His voice echoed through the hall. “Someone put my boy to sleep!” And then there was the sound of a door slamming and no more.

After a few minutes of silence, Jonas peaked his nose out of the cupboard.

“Do you smell anything?” Clyde asked.

“Only food. Lots of different food.”

The two foxes stepped out of the darkness and onto the carpeted floor. Their reflections stayed on the wall wherever they walked.

“It must be made out of water...” Clyde exclaimed.

“No, it's a metal. Everything's made out of metal around here. Even some of the men are made out of metals, like the guards.” Jonas replied, as he turned a corner. “The smells are coming from this way.”

When they made it to the door, it took both of them to push it open. At first they could not see where the food was, but then Clyde looked up at the table.

“Everything's up here, on the wood!”

Jonas pushed his friend aside and scrambled onto the chairs. He only wanted to eat. Reminded of his subordinate position, Clyde sulked in the corner, and waited until Jonas was finished. His hunger grew as he listened to his friend knock over cups and plates in search of meat. Finally the sounds decreased, until Clyde heard only the hum of the insects outside. He waited longer just to be sure, then climbed up onto the table himself. Jonas had fallen asleep on the main platter in the center, having picked the bird carcass clean. With reservation, Clyde helped himself to the remaining plate scraps, eyeing Jonas every once in a while. As he crawled across the table in search of meat, he heard the sound of laughing men approaching. He rushed to Jonas's side and tried to nudge him with his nose, but he wouldn't budge.

“Jonas! People are coming!” he yelped. “They're gonna eat you if you don't get up!” As the door swung open, Clyde ducked behind a coat that lay draped on a chair. He watched the two pairs of feet shuffle in, and heard the plates being cleared away.

“This thing alive?” one gruff voice asked.

“Not anymore,” the second one said with a sigh. “Go bring it to the meat pen, will you? Careful, it's waking up.”

Clyde watched in terror as his friend was taken by the tail out of the room. When the other servant was done collecting the plates, he left as well, and Clyde was left to contemplate Jonas's grim fate. The little fox hesitated, then quickly pulled himself up onto the window ledge, and jumped down to the lawn. Guilty thoughts plagued him all the way home, and as he came to the fox territory he began to choke back tears.

“Oh, it's Clyde, bawling his eyes out again,” one fox commented.

“Are you alright-t-t?” another jeered mockingly.

Clyde ignored their jabs and went straight to Jonas's den, and approached Oren timidly, with his ears held back. “Jonas and I...Jonas took me to the castle...and we went in...”

“What! You stupid children! What happened?”

“We went and ate the banquet scraps...and Jonas was so full he fell asleep...and they took him!”

“What did they say? Where did they take him, you worthless fool?”

Clyde was too intimidated, and lied, “I don't know, I couldn't hear them, I was so scared!”

Taupi shoved the young one aside and addressed all the starving foxes, sitting idly around.

“Young and old, listen to me! My young son has been captured by the men of the castle. Never before have these people threatened our safety so directly...first they eliminate and chase away our prey, now they come for us. I ask that the best and wisest of our group come with me to investigate. If we decide that they pose a great threat to our immediate safety, we shall storm the castle!”

“Let's storm it tonight!” one fox yelled. Many of the younger, more energetic of the group went into a bloodthirsty frenzy. All of those competing for female attention begged Taupi to let them accompany him, but he ignored them and chose the more established heads.

The assembled group waited until dusk, then began to make their way through the forest. About halfway into the journey, the fox in the back of the row managed to catch a squirrel, and tried in vain to keep it a hidden. Within seconds the others noticed the struggling rodent in his grasp, and pounced on him. The more mature of the group ignored the disruption, and after a short period of silence the fox who acquired the rodent reluctantly passed it over to Oren, who consumed it whole. The foxes bickered for the rest of the walk, sometimes pushing each other out of line in frustration, until they began to approach to the edge of the forest. Oren ordered them to be quiet, and each one took different positions at the top of the hill, searching for any signs of humanity.

Each one's fur stood up as the door creaked open and the fat man stepped out. They sat amazed as they watched him takes his three deep breaths, smile gently, then go back inside.

“What was that about?” one fox asked.

No one responded. The guards appeared and assumed their positions, yawning and patting their stomachs.

“You know, all these years, and I never had fox before.”

“Really? Yes, well, I guess the King is so used to eating the smaller, easier fare. He seems to have developed a taste for it, though.”

“It's going to be a pain hunting 'em.”

The foxes stirred impatiently in the grass. Oren's masculine composure was completely shattered, and many wondered if he would burst out of the forest that moment and attack the guards. Their conversation changed to talk of trivial human affairs, and Oren regained control of his anger. He began the procession back home, and the others lined up behind him. No one knew what to say to console him, and he would likely reject their pity anyway and respond with violence. So the walk remained silent and somber.

When they arrived, Jonas's mother noticed the grim expressions and retired to her den in devastation. Oren did not bother to comfort her, because he could not summon the energy to even comfort himself. He simply lay down wearily on the forest bed of leaves and twigs and stared up at the entangled black spires above him.

Three foxes sat by at a distance on guard, and whispered among themselves about the coming days. Every few minutes when the conversation petered out, they would stare with concern at their leader, still awake and sunk in thought. At one point, deep into the night, as the guards were beginning to fall asleep, Oren lifted his dejected body and spoke.

“Assemble the men. Tonight we will begin the attack.”

The three jumped up in excitement and scrambled to the dens, shouting names and calling for war. Everyone moved hurriedly, exchanging eager looks and smiles, while Oren stayed positioned in the center. When the commotion died down, he stood up and the rest of the foxes fell back, waiting for him to take the lead. He stared back at everyone with a look of subdued anger, and no one was sure whether it was directed at them or the perpetrators. Whatever the case, all the foxes took on a somber appearance and followed behind Oren in silence.

When they made it to the end of the forest, the younger foxes rushed in front to gaze in awe at the structure, but were quickly pushed back by their superiors. The two guards in front seemed to notice their presence and stopped talking. They looked in the direction of the noise, and the troop fell silent.

“What should we do? What if they come up here?” someone whispered. Oren remained silent. Sure enough, the two guards left their position at the door and slowly walked onto the grass.

“Everyone, close your eyes, they stand out.” Oren commanded. They all did as they were told. “Now, slowly start to step backwards. Grab sticks and stones as you go.”

Oren watched from behind a tree as the men began to ascend the hill. They were made curious by the shuffling.

“Who's lurking in the woods?” one of them called out.

“Probably some rodents fighting or something. We shouldn't leave our post, sir.”

“No, now I have to see. It's too loud to be a bunch of critters.”

“When you're 20 steps away, hurl the stones as far as you can.” Oren whispered.

The men stopped on the hill and hesitated. For a few moments, only the wind was making noise. Then a storm of stones and clumps of dirt rained from the forest, and the frightened men covered their face with their shields. When it was over, the two guards ran up the hill with swords out, angry and confused.

Oren tripped them with a large branch, and the rest of the foxes came in a swarm to devour the bodies.

“Wait, wait! Don't eat them!” he shouted. With his words the troops dropped the terrified men and backed away. The foxes stared hungrily, waiting for his next orders.“ Okay, maybe just their kidneys.”

The two most prominent foxes were each allowed a kidney, but Oren assured the others that their time would come. After they were done eating, the foxes confirmed to the rest of the group that human kidneys were unappetizing, even in their hunger, but no one believed them.

But still the men were struggling alive on the floor, writhing in the dirt and gasping loudly and incoherently. Oren ordered the two to each take a man back to the dens, to which the rest of the troops responded with disapproval, fearing their hunger might get the better of them. As they departed, the rest lay down on the forest floor, and watched the unattended castle door for signs of activity.

When daybreak came, two new guards appeared outside.

“Where are the others? They just walk off of their shift before we come?”

“I don't know. How strange,” the other guard said.

The foxes watched anxiously. “Should we do the same to them?”

Oren stared at the guards. “No. We don't want to raise any suspicions.”

When it was clear that the new guards were not going to investigate their comrades' disappearance, Oren and the others began their walk back to the inner forest. Many were eager for a piece of the captured guards and anticipated a meal on the return home, but Oren set aside their hopes.

“The men are not for eating,” he said sternly. The other foxes grumbled with their mouths and stomachs.

When they arrived, Oren gathered the others around him to explain the plan. All those who had not been on the trip gathered in front and listened attentively.

“We have captured two human soldiers from the castle. They are now dead. We will take their armor, and assume their roles. In this way, we will infiltrate the castle and bring about its downfall.”

Oren then chose the two who would serve as the fake guardsmen, Lester and Hammond. They were quickly shaved, and assisted in putting on their armor. The fox hair was applied to the dead men, stuck on with dry blood.

The two foxes were given wishes of good luck by the tribe, and they set out back to the castle with Oren, who dragged the dead men behind him.

“Before the fat man, who I presume is their leader, returns back inside, I want you to confront him. Now, this may be the cause of some disturbance, for I have never seen him communicate with his guards. Perhaps there is some taboo surrounding this. But there is no other way to establish a connection. He is our way in.”

Both Lester and Hammond were bristling with fear, but tried hard to conceal it. Of course, they knew Oren could see this is in their body language, and felt ashamed.

“What should we do if he figures us out?”

Oren paused. “I don't know. Kill him and bring him home. But make sure you leave no traces, or we'll all be hunted for certain. Remember, act as though you're happy to have hunted the dead carcasses for him.”

As they made their way out of the forest, Oren noticed their slumping posture.

“Stand up tall!” he snarled, “You want him to think your a human!”

Out came the king as they approached the door. He jumped back in surprise and stood erect.

“What are you doing out here!” he shouted.

The foxes froze. Had they already been found out? Hammond stood poised on his haunches, ready to attack.

“You know I don't like you out here when I'm trying to breathe! What's that, what are you carrying along?”

The two stood puzzled, then Hammond spoke up, “Sir, I'm sorry, but where shall I put this fresh fox kill? I've never caught one before.”

“Oh, you were out hunting?”

“Yes, we thought we'd hunt...in our spare time.”

“Oh, haha. How nice of you. How old are you boys? You are very short. Who measured your armor? It's falling off.”

The foxes kept silent.

“Here, go inside for a couple of minutes...I don't enjoy being disturbed.”

So the two foxes entered the castle and left the king to himself. They stood in awe of the human built grandeur, as Jonas and Clyde did two days earlier.

“I can't believe he doesn't understand,” Lester said.

After a few moments, the door opened and the king stumbled in, tripping over the top step.

“Oh oh...help me up, will you!”

The two foxes rushed to his side and propped him up against the cabinet.

“Always tripping, always falling over something. It's a pain having bad eyes, boys, an unfortunate predicament. There's nothing you can do about it.” He began to limp away, but turned around abruptly.

“Oh, yes, those foxes...why don't you bring them to the meat house?”

“The meat house, sir? Where is the meat house?” asked Hammond.

“What! Shouldn't you know all of this?”

The foxes followed behind him with the carcasses, through a long, dimly lit hallway. They came to a door which lead outside, to a bridge that connected to a smaller section of the fortress. The foxes noses perked up at the smell of smoked rabbits emanating from the building.

“Just walk along this bridge and go down the staircase. The butcher should be there.” The king left the two foxes standing on the platform. When he was gone, they debated what to do with the bodies.

“We can't go down there,” Lester said. “The others aren't blind like him. We'll be killed in an instant.”

“What should we do with these, then?”

The two foxes agreed to eat. When they made it back to the entrance of the castle, they sat down on the steps and went straight for the livers. When they were done, they stuffed the bones in the cabinet inside.

“Now what?”

“I don't know. Maybe we should leave.” said Lester. “There's going to be two that come to take their shift soon.”

Hammond's ears rose. There were sounds coming from the woods. Oren emerged on all fours and came down the hill quietly.

“What happened? You ate the bodies?”

“Yes, sir. We didn't know what to do with them.”

“I left after the man brought you two inside. You deceived him? Why didn't he take the bodies?”

“He told us to bring them to the kitchen, but we couldn't do that.”

“Yes. I'm sure they are not all this gullible. I didn't think it would work, myself.” said Oren.

“He's nearly blind, that's why.”

The clink of armor was heard from around the corner. Hammond and Lester panicked and looked frantically for a place to hide.

“Idiots! That is not the way to take a castle!” growled Oren. “Be calm, and see if they notice what you are. I'll be in the woods.” He jumped away up the hill.

The two soldiers walked towards the foxes, bickering about the cold weather. Hammond and Lester stood rigidly, waiting to be attacked. The two stopped, and the foxes watched them nervously from their loose fitting helmets.

“There's an animal in there!” one of them yelled, and they both proceeded to pull out their swords. Hammond attempted to do the same, but when he tried to grasp his paw around the handle, it slipped and clattered on the floor. Lester struggled to pull the armor off, so that he could fight the two men without any impediments, but since he did not put it in on himself, he had no ideas about how to take it off.

Hammond managed to escape the weapons, running on all fours with the gear flailing uselessly behind him. One of the men struck Lester across the chest, and he collapsed on the grass with a stream of blood and his legs entangled in metal.

As the men were engaged in their assault, Oren snuck out from the woods and attacked them from behind. He knew all the weak points of the armor, and teared mercilessly at the soldier's underarm, where the meeting of the shoulder piece and the chest piece left a vulnerability. He moved his arm as well through the armor and clawed open the lower stomach. Hammond returned to fight, as most of his armor was now strewn around the field and he was free to move. He jumped on the smaller of the two men and knocked him on the grass, and together he and Oren tore at the unfortunate men. Oren was sure to close their helmets as the screams grew, in order to muffle the noise. When the men were incapacitated, the two dragged them up to the forest and lay them in the leaf piles. Then they returned to their dying friend, and brought him up the hill as well.

“How does it feel, Lester?” Hammond asked him.

“Every time I breathe my heart feels like it's ripping apart.”

Lester stopped talking and watched with subdued expression as Oren tried to stop the bloodletting.

The castles doors opened below them and Hammond watched a lone man walk out to inspect. He noticed the blood and heaps of armor and paced around the entrance in panic. When he turned and headed back towards the door, Oren and Hammond exchanged looks and left the hopeless Lester alone, determined to keep the killings a secret. They took hold of the man from behind, so he did not see who they were, and quieted him. Then they carried him up to the forest to kill.

“Oh, no, please, I went out this way in the King's best interests! I didn't want to insult our majesty!” the man cried.

Now the foxes had three new suits of armor. After hanging Lester's body near the castle door and collecting the armor, the foxes set out for home. Despite the heavy metal on their back, they sprinted through the woods, knowing that their opportunity for takeover was ripe.

At the fox dens, four new foxes were shaved, given armor, and taught how to properly assemble and dissemble their equipment if the situation warranted. Everyone sat together in mourning for Lester, and after a small meal of liver and kidneys, the four were lectured in their objective by Oren.

“When the fat man comes out, approach him and show him Lester's body. He will be pleased and think that you caught him another fox.”

“Won't the body be discovered before he comes out?”

“I've scouted the perimeter of the castle. It seems the entrance near our edge of the forest is simply a side exit for the fat man's quarters. No one goes in or out, except for the fat man when he needs a breath. According to the final words of our last kill, anyone else besides the “majesty” using that door is quite taboo. Let's hope he was the curious exception.”

Once again when night came the assemblage of armored foxes journeyed to the castle. Before the king opened the doors, the foxes unhooked Lester's body and placed an arrow in his back. Then they waited nervously on the hill.

As the man stepped out into the cool night air, the four foxes walked up to him, laughing and joking like men.

“Another entourage of men! I wish to be ALONE out here, boys! What's this?”

Hammond spoke. “Another fox, sir. We are becoming quite adept at catching them.”

“A fox? Why, I was wondering why I had no fox for dinner tonight. I thought you boys brought your catch to the butcher.”

“Yes, well, the meat takes a long time to prepare. Sometimes weeks to fully cook, marinate, and dry. That first fox you had, I heard that was a product of five weeks worth of preparation.”

“Really...I must say, it was wonderful. I don't care how long it takes, haha. Anyway, your armor is practically falling off you all. I believe I told you that already. I won't have my men look so disheveled! Get inside, get inside, we'll get you fixed up.”

After the king was finished breathing, he came inside and pushed past the disoriented foxes, and lead them the way of the guard's quarters, a small, dingy building on the opposite end of the castle grounds. The king took the opportunity granted by the long walk to converse with his new guards.

“How long have you all been living here?”

“Oh, we...we just came, from the other castle.”

“My brother's. Yes, I remember hearing that a new regiment was on the way. So many men killed in the invasion...yes. Well, they died in glory for me, that's all that matters. And now you have come to take their place.”

The foxes kept silent and exchanged looks of confusion in between pauses.

“Why so many on the hunt?”

“We aimed to bring back more but the pack evaded us,” Hammond replied calmly.

“Will you men show me what the hunt is like one day?”

“Of course!” a fox replied.

“Good, good. I've asked the others before but they are so odd in responding. They are afraid of me, I can tell. I can't engage in such an intimate activity with fearful men, it wouldn't seem right. You boys are more straight-forward, honest. That's why I didn't have you killed when I found you outside my door. I could tell there was something different about you.”

The king guided them into the tailor's hut, adjacent to the guard's quarters. “In fact, feel free to visit me. Just please, do not interrupt my breathing. I need the air to relax, and unexpected appearances frighten me. When I'm frightened, I can't breathe properly. So, if you see me out there, please refrain and wait until I go inside to knock.”

The tailor looked up from his work and was startled at the small congregation of foxes in armor surrounding the oblivious king.

Before he could speak, the king ordered tasks of him.

“Fix the suits of my four fine men, promptly. I need them all done by the morning.” The king turned around to face the foxes. “Men, I will be back in the morning to make sure he has correctly fitted your armor. If he hasn't, we can all murder him!”

The foxes chuckled, but for entirely different reasons than the king surmised, and then they were left alone in the room with the tailor. After the measurements were taken, he was sure not to look up from his work, and the foxes noticed as his underarms began to soak with sweat. They were all unsure of what to do, and were too afraid to venture out of the room and possibly face attacks by the ignorant guards. So, with barely a word between each other, the foxes reclined in the corner and waited until their suits were finished.

In the early hours of morning, all but Hammond was asleep. He kept his gaze on the tailor through the night and enjoyed scaring him. Wild animals were completely foreign to the tailor, who had grown up in servitude all his life.

As Hammond's interest in the tailor began to wane, so did his ability to stay awake. His gaze dropped to the workbench, then to the wooden boards that made up the floor. Just as the sound of clinking metal morphed into babbling water in his dream, the thud of a door knocking against the wall woke him in an instant. He looked up to the see a line of men carrying their bedclothes.

Before long the group noticed him. “Hey! Vermin! They alive?” a man asked the tailor. He didn't respond.

The other foxes grew alert and stared up at the talking mass, then looked in panic to Hammond for instruction. Seeing no way to convince the men of their new shared kindred, Hammond jumped up and snarled, and the other foxes followed.

“Oh oh! What the fuck do you have foxes in the building for?!” someone yelled. The men rushed to grab the tools hanging and lying in the room and charged at the four, determined to extinguish the wild beasts infringing on their domestic safety.

Within seconds Hammond's eyes were punctured by a chisel, and he raced around the room in pain and confusion. The other foxes attempted to ward off the men without fatal attack, remembering their newly gained trust of the king.

As the room was becoming a mess of blood and cloth and metal, the door barged open and in stepped the flustered king. He yelled with all his lungs, a bold, irritating shriek, and all the men stopped their movements.

“You disgusting heathens! Can't you mingle with a new group without going for their necks?!”

The men tried to explain, but this only launched the king into a longer tirade.

“Enough! Look at what you did to his arm!” He grabbed a fox's arm and held it up. “And these are better men than you! Jealously, is it? Barbarians!” He rushed around the room to Hammond, who lay weakly in the corner. “What have you done....he can hardly move.”

Hammond covered his bloodied eyes in his arms, fearing closer inspection and thus being discovered by the king.

“If I ever discover another instance of violence on these newcomers, I will have you all executed and my brother's men will fill the empty cabins.”

The king paced to the door and swung it open. “One man for every injured,” he demanded, and extended his arm to the outside. “Come on, now, or you all die.”

Of course, no one responded to his request, so he asked the foxes to choose. They pointed to the four largest, and the king sent them accordingly out the door. “Try to converse like men while I'm gone.”

The foxes all went to attend to their leader, whose blood now formed a puddle on the floor. Using a cloth pajama from the men, the foxes wrapped his eyes and carefully padded his other wounds. When this was done, the tailor informed them nervously that the suits were completed, and each fox lined up to receive their armor. The men watched in astonishment from the other side of the room.

The king returned promptly with a look of satisfaction on his face, and applauded the men for not fighting. After congratulating the foxes on their new suits of armor, the king ordered everyone back to the quarters.

The foxes' new home was dark even in the daytime, for there were no windows to let light in, and smelled of human sweat and piss. Each bed was but a few feet apart from the next, and so the foxes were within distance to touch their new-found human companions. One area of recreation existed in the dwelling, which was a table across from the kitchen. The foxes used this as their meeting area.

When the guards were not engaged in idle sex with a harlot or each other, or preparing food, they simply sat on their bed and conversed, or stared at the bricks in the wall and spoke to themselves. With the foxes there, no one said a word, and only gradually when the foxes held their meetings at the table did a few men dare to speak.

The foxes learned how to navigate the castle as they were assigned different areas to patrol. Soon they developed a comprehensive map, drawn from memory, that identified all the major areas that would be essential in the takeover. When they were assigned a shift at the King's personal entrance, the foxes took it as an opportunity to visit the dens and inform Oren and the others. Besides, spending hours beside a human guard was unbearable. There was constant tension between the two species, but the humans could do nothing, in fear of their king.

Oren suggested that each guard that was assigned with a fox at the entrance be captured and brought to the dens. Despite the foxes' pleas to enact revenge, Oren demanded they wait, and assured them that his plan would ensure a sound victory.

The human inhabitants of the quarters began to grow suspicious, as they watched men slowly disappear day after day, but they were powerless to react. Each one tried to ignore that which awaited him, and hoped he would have the courage to retaliate if he was attacked.

Even those that did were subdued by a troop of naked foxes that appeared mysteriously from behind the shrubs, to carry them into the mouth of woods.

One morning, the foxes were surmising about Oren's plans at their table, when the king suddenly entered the dwelling. He laughed and told the foxes to put some clothes on, to which they hurriedly responded.

“Boys, I would like to remind you of a favor I've asked of you before. Tomorrow my son and I would like to accompany you four on a hunt. What do you say?”

“Of course, our majesty,” responded a fox.

“Where have all the men gone?”

“I have no idea, sir.”

“Well, anyway, great. I will be here tomorrow before dawn,” the king said, leaving with a crooked smile.

At the entrance that day, another guard was captured, making a dozen in their possession. Hammond and the other foxes delivered him to Oren.

As the man was thrown in a pile with the others, Hammond informed his leader of the news.

“The king has once again asked us to accompany him on a hunt. He has set the date for tomorrow.”

Oren smiled and rose to his feet, and gathered the others around him to explain his plan.

After this, the foxes returned to the guard's quarters and joked with each other on the way.

When they arrived, they immediately took their positions at the table, ignoring looks from the men at the other end sitting on their beds. The foxes spoke in whispers to each other, and conversed through the night, leaving the men in the darkness, fully awake and paranoid.

The king arrived with his son early in the morning as planned, and the foxes greeted them in full armor. They exchanged pleasant words to each other indoors, and to the relief of the men, they left the building promptly.

The foxes guided their two human companions to the woods that lay outside the king's personal door.

“We find that the foxes, more often than not, seem to congregate only a little ways away from where your door is.”

“Oh, really? That is very disconcerting.”

“Yes, but hopefully we can catch enough of them so they are no longer a real threat. Besides, the meat stores well for so long.”

“Exactly,” said the king. “It's good that we have some use for these beasts after they're killed. The fur also makes a wonderful coat in the winter. Say, how many do you estimate there are around here?”

“Very many, I would say.”

“How exciting! If I knew this originally I would have had them killed previously.”

“Yes. It's best to wipe them out all within a short time, so they don't get smart and attempt to relocate.”

“Yeah, I don't want that...leave the domain to another kingdom.” The king's child began babbling incoherently as they talked.

“How much of this land do you own, sir?”

“Not very much woods, to my dismay. Perhaps another hours walk in either direction.”

The foxes stopped abruptly and Hammond reach for his arrows.

“Be quiet, now, I believe I heard something in that direction.”

The king, in his excitement, loudly admitted that he did not know how to shoot an arrow, so one fox was instructed to teach him as the others went in pursuit of the imaginary prey.

When the king finally managed to shoot one into the dirt a few feet away, they went to catch up with the others. Hammond proudly presented his first kill to the king.

“What a beautiful coat!” the king exclaimed as he stroked the fur, and made his child do the same. “It must be very warm, right Frederick?”

The child responded by screaming in glee. Even the foxes could tell that the son was severely disabled.

“King, this way. See it there sneaking on all fours? Get it before it notices you!” one fox whispered in the king's ears.

In his blindness the king was unable to discern that his guards were dressed in fox fur, and being forced to move around the forest as targets. He nervously strung his bow and aimed, and in the crucial moment the arrow quivered out of his tense grip and onto the ground.

“That's alright, that's alright,” his instructor assured him. “Here, watch how I do it.”

The young fox took aim and effortlessly sunk the arrow into the man's flesh.

“Amazing!” the king exclaimed, and his child dumbly clapped his hands.

“Oh, look, another one! What luck!” said another fox. As the king attempted desperately to get his shot within ten yards of the slowly crawling target, Hammond took the opportunity to find the king's next target in his assigned area and cover him in a bloody fox coat. With this system, the foxes only had to reuse three coats of fur to disguise the dozen men.

One of the foxes volunteered openly that he would be the one to bring the carcasses back to the castle, to which the king agreed. In reality, he instead assisted behind the scenes and helped Oren and the others set up the targets. By the time the hunt was over, the king never managed to hit a man himself, but the foxes gladly made up for his lack of skill and caught all the remaining prey. The troop of hunters joyously marched back to the castle, happy that they had caught so many in one day.

The king accompanied his companions on their walk back to the quarters.

“We should go hunting frequently from now on. In three days I should be able to at the same time.”

"Okay, sir, but the hunt will be slow for now on. Look how many we killed. They may already be getting the idea in their little skull to find new territory, so don't expect much from now on."

"That's fine, that's fine. The hunt may even increase in excitement as the foxes become rarer and rarer to find."

Twice a week the king would come early in the morning, and the troop of five, sometimes accompanied by the king's son, would set out to the forest. The foxes could, at the most, only capture two or three men from their post outside the king's dwelling between hunts, so they often brought few bodies back to the meat house when the day was over.

As the guards were eliminated, new foxes took their place in the quarters, arriving in armor. The few remaining men were on the verge of insanity. The ones that were left attempted to escape the castle grounds as their time drew closer, but they were turned in by the foxes and executed.

With the infantry of the castle disposed of, the foxes agreed it was time to seize control. Despite the pleas of his fellows, Oren made it clear that the King should not be killed off. He saw the utility in his presence; in case a foreign human visited the castle, there would need to be a figure of authority to assure them.

Each time the king arrived at the guard's quarters at the start of the day he seemed more and more withdrawn. The foxes noticed he no longer showed the same excitement he once did.

“Are you sad that our kills are decreasing day by day?” a fox asked.

“No, no, it's not that. Nothing to do with this, really,” he responded quickly.

“Are you sure? Is it because you have never caught one yourself?” The foxes now took pleasure in regularly teasing him, but of course the king did not notice.

Immediately upon being asked this, the king flushed red and mumbled to himself. The walk to the forest was silent, and the king seemed constantly preoccupied. Once again he caught nothing, barely managing to get the arrow a few feet in front of him. Sometimes he seemed on the verge of tears.

When they made it back on castle grounds, the king burst out in nervous laughter, and then informed the foxes that he would like to take a break from hunting for a few weeks.

“Oh, but what about your son? He seems to be improving so much.”

The king, quite embarrassed that his mentally ill child was progressing faster than him, acknowledged the comment quickly.

“How does it sound if we take him under our wing during your little hiatus? I'm sure he would excel to great lengths in his skill,” said Hammond.

After some deliberation, the king finally agreed to leave his son with the guards, and then departed without a word. The child was taken immediately to Oren.

The leader of the foxes took the trembling child in his hand and looked at him with a deep gaze. He was naked like an animal and Oren could clearly see the pattern of his breath.

“Foxes, this one does not breathe shallowly in the chest, but in the lower stomach as we do.”

All were amazed that the child did not breathe like the other men they observed.

Soon the boy fainted and the king cut open the throat. He then called Hammond over, and gave the body to him.

“Eat this strange child and assume it's power,” he said to him. After Hammond consumed the whole boy, Oren named him the king. A brief ceremony was held, and then the blind fox went on his way to secure the throne.

With a troop of foxes behind him, Hammond pushed open the entrance to the king's dwelling. As he entered, the king came out of his washing room wrapped in a towel, and was startled that his privacy was being infringed upon.

“What is going on here? I do not want to hunt right now!” he shouted incredulously.

Hammond and the others passed by him silently and made their way to the inner parts of the fortress. At each entrance two foxes took their positions, all the way to the king's throne.

The new king mounted the strange seat, and sat there in total solitude. He had not yet gotten used to the darkness, and felt the loneliness sink into his body. He caressed the smooth fabric to comfort himself.

The former king ran through the halls clad in towel, screaming in anger at his usurpers. At each guard point he was generally smacked and humiliated, but left relatively unharmed.

Hammond heard wet footsteps approach him across the room, echoing off the giant walls.

The old king tried to speak, but couldn't regain his breath. He grabbed his naked knees and gasped for air desperately, and Hammond smiled and faced the direction of the sound.

“I hear you heaving from the chest like a savage. Not like your son. He breathes just like an animal.” he said gently.

“My son! What have you done with him?” he yelled between gasps. “Why are you all turning against me? I am the king! Is it because I'm not dressed like a king? I was taking a bath! Now get up off of my throne and...bring me my clothes!”

The two guards outside of the room then came in, and instead of following his orders, stripped the former king of his towels and tied him up in rope.

“Now, now, sir,” Hammond said as he descended the throne. “I will get naked as well.”

The blind fox took off all of his human armor, piece by piece, placed his four paws on the cold, polished floor, and walked up to the tangled man. His eyes grew larger as the fox came nearer.

“Don't you see? It's already growing back.” He rubbed his fur with his nose.

“I...I've been deceived...I had no idea...”

“Yes. You never had any idea where your meat came from. Even as you were hunting.”

As Hammond said this, a fox appeared with a carcass and laid it down in front of the bewildered man.

“Eat the man, or we eat the child.”

At the quiet fox dens, only Oren and his immediate family remained. He had never entered the castle himself, and was not interested in such a life.

One day, when winter was well underway, Hammond returned to visit his old leader. Although the hierarchical ways of the foxes had been transformed, he still showed submission to Oren on instinct.

After briefly discussing the lives of Oren's old friends, Hammond began to divulge on the sorry state of the king, and mocked him avidly. “The fool cringes with fear every time we come in the door to throw him a piece of meat. He's just a lowly scavenger now, living in torment and guilt and begging for his child.”

“Oh. Oh yes, my child. That's what this was all about. I had forgotten all about him.”