This is my first story in a long time, because I've been away for a while, and it is the first of twelve that will be written for this story… which is actually more of a compilation of pretty short stories revolving around a single specific character
This is my first story in a long time, because I've been away for a while, and it is the first of twelve that will be written for this story… which is actually more of a compilation of pretty short stories revolving around a single specific character. The first one is based off a fable, The Fox and the Crow, and some of the others might be too because fables are cool. They sound good and they teach you important lessons. Oh, yeah, none of this is owned by me.
Don't Be Fooled By Flattery
Two young fox babes were playing in the last few remaining patches of winter slush. The watery sunlight filtered in through the dead, leafless tree branches and warmed the ground. The snow would soon be gone and spring would come to Mossflower. The young babes were supervised by an old vixen tending to a fire. Other than that they were alone in the woods.
The two foxes chased each other with sticks, reenacting battles of old in their play. The bigger fox jabbed at the littler fox in the belly with his pretend sword. "Ha! Yer slayed. I wins."
"S'not fair. Yew always wins." The littler fox whined as he dropped his stick sword.
"Cus' I'm stronger, beetle brain."
The little fox plopped down in the snow and angrily kicked at the ground. "Notta beetle brain, yew sillybeast."
"I'm notta sillybeast!" The bigger babe stabbed at the littler babe with his stick.
Watching the young babes fight, the old vixen grunted as she stirred the fire. "Tis better to think an' use yer head than fight an' wind up dead."
The grizzled vixen spat in the fire and motioned for the two fox babes to sit by her. They obliged. "Foxes be clever beasts, not stupid like other vermin. Tis better to be clever an' weak than stupid an' strong."
The two fox babes exchanged puzzled glances. The old vixen ran her tongue along her toothless gums and sucked in air. "Tis a tale from many seasons ago 'bout a fox who was clever an' solved his problems with his wits…"
'Twas indeed many seasons ago, in the land of Mossflower. A young fox by the name of Chickenhound was walking through the woods. He had spent the day gathering herbs for his mother, the vixen Sela, and had a big bundle tucked into his tunic. It was a hot day, in the middle of summer, and Chickenhound was thirsty. A small creek was nearby, so he veered off his trail to find the creek.
He untied his bundle of herbs and sat down on a rock covered in sprigs of moss. He dipped his paws in the creek and sighed in content. He had been walking all day through the hot forest and it felt good to feel the cool water flow over his sore paws and in between his toes. Chickenhound dipped a dockleaf into the water and drank deeply. As he refilled his leaf, a pair of bright eyes watched him from a tree.
It was a common sparrow, and he watched as Chickenhound continued to splash in the creek. The bird's quick eyes darted over to the mossy rock and saw the bundle of herbs Chickenhound had left. The sparrow cocked his head to the side and stared at them. As Chickenhound drank, the sparrow flew down to the rock.
Chickenhound saw the sparrow and lunged for the bird. The sparrow snatched up the herbs in his beak, leaving Chickenhound standing in the creek with nothing but a pawful of tail feathers.
"Hey!" Called Chickenhound. The sparrow watched him with his beady, flickering eyes from the branch of a nearby tree. He wanted to call back and mock the young fox, but his beak was full.
Chickenhound picked up a pawful of rocks from the creek and threw at the sparrow. He missed, and the bird flew up to a higher branch. Chickenhound sat down below the tree and spat curses at the sparrow.
The sparrow hopped back and forth among the branches, mocking Chickenhound. But the young fox was smart and used his wits as his mother, Sela the vixen, had taught him.
"Oh, kind sparrow, surely you could drop down those herbs for me!" He called to the sparrow. "What use are they to you? You are too handsome to need herbs, Sparrow!"
The sparrow hopped to the lower branch and preened his feathers and stretched his wings. Chickenhound clasped his paws in mock amazement.
"How beautiful you are, Sparrow! No other bird in Mossflower could compare to your beauty!" Chickenhound praised the rather drab sparrow.
But still the sparrow did not drop the herbs. Chickenhound put on a face of false disappointment and shook his head. The sparrow cocked his head and stared at the fox curiously.
"You are indeed beautiful, Sparrow." Chickenhound repeated. "But if only your voice 'twas as beautiful as you, dear Sparrow, then you would surely be king o' all birds in Mossflower n' beyond!"
The sparrow was eager to prove the wrong about his voice, opened his beak and let out a raucous cry. The herbs tumbled to the ground. Chickenhound quickly scooped them up and sniggered loudly at the sparrow.
And with that, Chickenhound went running of into the forest, sniggering all the way. The sparrow remained on the lowest branch, puzzled and confused. From somewhere in the forest he heard Chickenhound shout.
"Dear Sparrow, your voice is lovely, but your wit is lacking."
I know, very short, but it's the first I've written in two and half years. I couldn't quite remember how Chickenhound spoke. I didn't think he had as thick of a vermin accent as most vermin. I haven't read Redwall in a while. All I remembered is he sniggered a lot and he was clever. So please review and tell me what you think, okay?