I flipped through the pages of my book, content with the silence filling my home. I live in a forest clearing with the rest of my family. The forest surrounding us is usually full of noisy little creatures, but today, all is peaceful. I can't help but wonder why. It's just my lucky day, I suppose. I continued my reading, but only for a few minutes. The book was swatted out of my paws, landing five feet away on the dirt floor with a thump. I look up swiftly to scold whoever had done that, expecting to see one of my younger brothers wanting to play, or my older sister, simply wanting to ruin my good mood.
I was shocked to see that my father was the offender. He towered above me, stern look in his dark eyes. I shuddered, making my fur stand on end. My father was to be feared by all, even his own family. And who could blame us? He was much bigger than the rest of us. His fur was dark gray, his eyes nearly black. A scar went diagonally across his face from his right eyebrow to his left cheekbone. He was truly the most intimidating fox in this forest.
"What are you doing, my son?" His voice was calm, but I couldn't help but notice a hint of anger in it.
"I was reading, father." He scoffed at me.
"You should not be reading. Reading is for humans. You are a fox. You should be honing your hunting skills. You are also my eldest son. You should be learning how to take charge of the pack, for if I were to die, you would be next to lead them."
"I know, father. I know how to lead the pack, but you are still alive. My leadership skills are useless at the moment." Father nodded.
"Very true. And what has become of your hunting? You rarely leave the clearing. And I have been informed that your older sister has been bringing you some of the spoils of her hunt."
"She does, on occasion. I am not built for hunting." It wasn't a lie, exactly. I am rather small and thin. But I still have the abilities that come naturally to foxes, stealth and speed. Neither of which I enjoy using, seeing as being stealthy seems a bit cowardly and running quickly makes me sweat. Father glared at me.
"Nonsense. All foxes are built for hunting. Your attitude on the matter is starting to annoy me. Now go and hunt."
"But father-" He cut me off.
"Go and hunt this instant. If you haven't had your fill by midnight, you shall be barred from our pack henceforth." With that, he walked away. My eyes grew wide with hurt. The fact that my father would even suggest expelling me from the pack made sadness arise in my chest. I didn't have a choice anymore. I ran out of the clearing to find my prey.
.o.O.o.
I had been searching for hours, but found nothing. No birds, no squirrels, no chipmunks, no anything. The silence of the forest had gone from a stroke of luck to an omen of doom. And to make it even worse, the sun was starting to set. That's when I found a loophole in my father's words. He said I had to hunt and eat my fill. He didn't, on the other hand, say exactly what I had to hunt. If I couldn't find any animals, what's left to eat? Fish. There's a river at the edge of our hunting territory that was always full of them. It wasn't very far away, either. I walked in its' direction, being vigilant of my surroundings just in case something, predator or prey, happened to be lurking. I saw nothing conspicuous and reached the river ten minutes later. I peered into the clear, rushing water. The sun was still casting a glow of light. I searched for the reflection of that glow against the fish's scales. Five minutes passed and not even a glitter of scales had appeared. I sighed, disheartened. My only hope now was to cross the river. Beyond the river was uncharted territory. I, like so many others, fear the unknown and the curiosity it sparks. But I'm out of options. I sighed again and walk to the edge of the river, preparing to cross it. Just as I am about to take a step, I hear rustling behind me. Much to my amazement, a small man pops out. A very, very small man. A very, very small man who smells like…gingerbread. He looks out of breath. Odd, seeing as cookies don't have lungs.
"Hello, little gingerbread man." He comes a bit closer and I get a better look at him. He really is a walking cookie. I smirked. Cookies were edible.
"Hello! I ran away from the little old woman, I ran away from the little old man, and a pig, and some cows, and I can run away from you, too! Run, run, fast as you can! Can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" I raise an eyebrow. This guy was cocky, for a piece of gingerbread. He was small. If I wanted, I could just eat him right then. But where's the fun in that? I read in a book that all living things had minds of their own. Minds that, if the right words are said, can be manipulated. All I had to do was get the cookie's trust, and then have my meal.
"But I never run. And I don't want to eat you." The Gingerbread Man either didn't hear that last part, or heard it and ignored it. He ranted again.
"Run, run, fast as you can! Can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!" I tried hard not to roll my eyes, or smile hungrily.
"Run all you want, I'm not going to chase you. But I would like to ask you a question." The cookie stopped running and turned to me.
"What?"
"How do you figure you're going to get across that stream without getting wet? I mean, if you get wet, you'll get soggy, right?" The gingerbread man didn't answer me. What I said must have made sense to him. He looked deep in thought. "I have an idea." My words broke the man's trance. He looked at me expectantly.
"What?" I couldn't help but smirk. This was going to be way too easy.
"I'm going to swim across, right now. If you want, you can hitch a ride on my tail." The gingerbread man didn't hesitate.
"Okay." He grabbed my tail and I padded into the water. After a few steps, the water started rising.
"Oh, little gingerbread man, the water is getting kind of deep. I'm afraid you might get wet. Why don't you climb up onto my back?" The cookie hesitated, looking down at the rushing water.
"Gee, the water is getting kind of deep…Okay." I waited until I felt him on my back before moving again. A few steps later, the water deepened again.
"Oh little gingerbread man, the water is getting kind of deep. I'm afraid you might get wet. Why don't you climb up onto my neck?" He looked at the water again.
"Gee, the water is getting kind of deep…Okay." He climbed onto my neck and I started to move again. The cycle continued of the water getting deeper and him getting closer and closer to my mouth. When I reached the center of the river, he was on my head. The water wasn't going to go any deeper. I walked forward, crouching down as I did so. I tilted my head so my nose pointed upwards. It wasn't long before my knees hit the bottom of the river.
"Oh little gingerbread man, the water is getting even deeper. I'm afraid you might get wet. Why don't you climb onto my nose?" He looked at the water, thankfully not noticing that the water was only high because I was crouching.
"Gee the water is getting kind of deep…Okay." I felt him climb up and sit on my nose. I opened my mouth and in he fell. I swallowed and smiled. Not only had I gotten a meal on my own, but now I would be able to stay with my pack. I stepped out of the water and shook off. Then I ran towards the clearing excitedly. Father and the rest of my family wouldn't believe this.