Hey, everyone.. This is just a thought I had about Zorro. See, I've always thought that Zorro should have a fox. It seemed to make a lot of sense to me, but no one seemed to agree with me. SO I wrote it out myself. This little story is written from the fox's point of view. If you don't like the idea, don't tell me. I have a very fragile sense of... self-worth, I guess. No, I think it's confidence I'm lacking. My self-worth is pretty high. Anyway, helpful criticism always appreciated, at least as long as it's nicely given.

Disclaimer: I don't own Zorro or anything. But then, I'd think that's pretty obvious.

I lay on the bed. I could feel the earth slowly roll beneath my paws, and the smell of the sea permeated the room I was in. I sighed, well contented. I had just eaten, and that, along with the pleasant heat, served to make me sleepy. I could feel myself slowly sink into unconsciousness.

I opened my eyes a little later, when I heard the door to my room open. My ears pricked up. It was only the servant though. I let my head fall back on my paws, utterly unconcerned with this person. The only person I was concerned about was mine. He was the only one who was even distinctly fox-like. Everyone else was like the mice and squirrels. My person-fox followed the servant into my room after a little while.

I stretched and got to my feet, then hopped lightly onto the floor. I yipped up at my person. This brought the usual reaction, a slight caress of his hand. I loved his smell. I rubbed against him in delight. I could tell that he was glad as well. He had just been up on board fighting with another person with the removable claw the people sometimes used. I had learned that he referred to it as a 'sword', and I had come to think of it in that way too, since it was shorter than removable claw. Of course, it was easily understood why a person would want a claw. They had none of their own, after all. I was proud in my person, because I could tell that he won everyone else when they play-fought with their swords.

I could tell that this time he had won quickly, for he wasn't as tired as he usually was, and even that was negligible compared to his opponents. He made some sounds then, the only one of which I discerned was "Bernardo", which referred to his servant, also a new concept for a small fox. It was well known that people couldn't read scent names the proper way, so they used sound names to distinguish each other instead. They used sound to distinguish pretty much everything. Still, I had to admit that it made it easier for another to understand what one meant, or so it seemed to me. This was no doubt due to their extreme disability to notice obvious things, like when another was feeling hungry or upset. They had to, instead, convey everything in sound. My fox-person was more observing than most, and he knew immediately when I wanted something, and how I felt, although I did have to exaggerate my feelings for him to pick up on them. Still, it was more than most people could do, and I felt that, with training, he would be even more of a fox than he was now.

He sat down on my bed, and I jumped up to sit beside him. He continued to 'speak' with Bernardo, who said nothing in reply. This was because he couldn't talk. I thought this made him better at observation, but it certainly didn't make him a fox. Still, he was an acceptable human companion for my person, who I would have guarded zealously if I felt that a certain 'friendship' was harmful to him.

I had learned quite a lot of concepts in my short one-year life that most foxes never learned. But I had to learn them, because otherwise my person wouldn't be cared for; he was quite rash and impulsive.

Sitting contentedly on his lap, I thought back to the day when it was decided that this would be my person. I could remember it as though it was yesterday, although it had been my mother who had done the deciding. My ancestral memory served me well, though, and helped me to pick up on the weird human habits my mother had spent her time observing.

She had been wandering through the forest, when she came upon a young human. He had been instructed by an old woman, one of those who was still in connection with the Earth around her. She had recognized him immediately as a fox, and understood that it was her duty to make this connection clear to him. From that moment on, she had followed him at a discreet distance, always staying out of sight of everyone else. She had followed him on board a 'ship' like the one I was now on, and onto the mainland quite a ways away. She had never fully understood the weird journey.

When I was born, she had deposited me into the arms of the person-fox, and had left, never to see me again. I didn't mind. This person-fox was mother enough to me.

I listened more carefully to my person's speech. I recognized the words "home" and "soon" and "la zorra pequena", which was his long name for me. I had made it clear that I didn't appreciate the sound names he had tried to foist on me, so in the end he just called me 'little fox', or simply "zorra"(fox). It had been very confusing for me to realize that both 'fox' and 'zorra' referred to me. Same with 'little' and 'pequena'. Stupid bi-linguists. But I was now up to date, and we were going 'home'. I realized that it was technically home for me too. After all, I remembered the places from my mother's memories. There was a happy mood in the room that day.

The next few days passed in manner similar to the ones before, except that now there was excitement in the air as everyone prepared to land. I was excited too. I would get to meet all the people my fox-person knew. From his expression when he spoke of the place, I knew that home was joyous and peaceful. It shouldn't take me long to fit into the society there.

Finally, the day that everyone had been waiting for arrived. Or, at least my person had been, and he was close enough to everyone for me. A lot of people felt the same way; my person was very magnetic and charming.

We made our way into town in a carriage, closed because people tended to be nervous if they suddenly saw me. So I remained unseen for the whole journey to mine and my person's home. When we arrived, he got out of the carriage and was greeted solemnly by the people there. I understood that they were servants, or something similar. It was very hard to understand all the fine distinctions between class. I sat in the carriage while Bernardo began unpacking. It was too hot for me to spend a lot of time in the sun, seeing how my fur was thick and black. I would wait until my person came and told me the room was ready. Hopefully a ground floor one, or even underground so as to escape this infernal heat.

My person-fox came out again a while later, but he was rather unhappy. I wondered what had happened. No servants followed him to the carriage, and we were alone. He tapped Bernardo's shoulder, and motioned for him to bring the things to his room and quickly.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," he said. I only caught a few words, but I got the gist of it. I quickly leaped out of the carriage and followed him to the room, which was on the upper story. I sighed, perhaps this was what had upset him. I jumped up onto the bed and grumbled at him. He gave me a brief smile.

"I know it's hot right now, little Zorra, but it's colder in the evening."

I lay down. What was troubling him if not the weather?

Bernardo made his way into my fox-person's room, carrying a couple of bags. My person had been pacing the whole time, but when Bernardo came in, he went over to help him carry the things and set them up around the room. After they were done, Bernardo signed a question. This was another difficulty in my young life. Not only did I have to learn English and Spanish because my person, and presumably all of California, was bi-lingual, but I also had to contend with the fact that there was a third language I needed to understand and respond to; sign language.

"What's wrong?" asked Bernardo.

My person sighed, and explained something in a tired voice. He looked very upset.

Bernardo sat down on the bed, clearly thinking. I wondered too. All I had gotten from his statements was that the alcalde, and I wasn't quite sure who that was, had done something that upset my person-fox, and it included his father. That explained why he wasn't home. He was somewhere else, presumably arguing with this alcalde. Or was he? Would my fox-person be so upset if his father was arguing or even fighting? We fought often at the University in Madrid, and he was never upset about it then. I yipped in question.

My person looked over. "My father was jailed, Zorra." I cocked my head. I didn't understand the last word but that was clearly the source of the problem. "Jailed is when someone puts you into a big cage."

I was taken aback. Sure that I understood, my fox-person returned to contemplating the ground.

Why would anyone put another into a big cage? Clearly the alcalde and his father had had a disagreement, I understood that from his previous explanation. Then the alcalde must have put my person's father into a big cage. Why hadn't he put the alcalde into a cage? Or, to say it properly, why wasn't the alcalde jailed? Did my person's father lose a fight, perhaps with swords? But my person talked of his father with such pride, and we foxes wouldn't be proud of someone who just... lost. Maybe it was an exception. Everyone was allowed to feel bad once or twice.

As I was attempting to understand what was going on, Bernardo signed a question that I missed. Although judging by the completely new and foreign topic under discussion, I probably wouldn't have understood it anyway.

My person-fox stood up in agitation at Bernardo's words. I whined, attempting to placate him. Usually I would press against his legs; it had a calming influence on him. But if I did that now he probably wouldn't notice and would trip over me, which as I knew from experience was rather unpleasant for both of us. "There's nothing I can do!" he exclaimed, then spoke again, getting more annoyed with every word he uttered. He said something about getting jailed, which I thought was absurd. My fox-person could beat anyone in any kind of fight. He wouldn't get jailed, would he? Also something about the alcalde going after his family. It seemed to me that the alcalde had some people behind him, like a pack of dogs. I hate dogs, they're always far too eager to try to catch me and my kin. If he did have a pack, then that would explain my person's father's jailing, and why he was nervous of them going after his family.

They both looked defeated at this. I had to admit it was a hard point to pass. If Diego de la Vega sprung his father from this jail place, then the alcalde would know where to send his pack for retribution. But who else could go after his father? All three of us in the room knew that only my person-fox had a chance of going into a pack's den, free his father, and return with both of them alive.

My person sat down on the bed, and placed his head in his hands. Bernardo leaned against the wall, and I sighed as I placed my head on my paws. They clearly thought it was impossible. Can I do it? I wondered. If I were to try to go into a pack's den in such a way that they couldn't follow me to mine, then the only way to do that would be to... disguise my scent! Of course! It was so simple.

I yipped to get my person's attention.

"What, little fox?" asked my person.

I jumped off the bed. How to explain? I pretended first that I was captured by a pack of dogs. My person-fox laughed at that. Then I left that scene, and tried to sneak into the area where I had been. Then I sniffed myself tiptoed through the place, and hid. An odd game of charades. I'd have to find a proper way to communicate with him if he needed my help much more often.

He still looked confused, so I came up to him, sniffed him, then pretended to not be able to track him around the room. I looked at him again.

"Make sure they can't follow my scent?" he looked thoughtful. "The problem is that this pack of dogs, they're called lancers by the way," he pointed out to me. "don't follow scents. I'm more worried of them recognizing my face."

Both he and Bernardo looked at each other.

"That's it! I'll cover my face." he grinned. "This might just work."

Bernardo signed, "You should try talking to him."

My fox-person sighed. "I suppose I should. It would seem weird if I wasn't upset over this. But I'm sure it won't do anything, my father wrote to me that he has tried talking to the alcalde himself, and the alcalde seems deaf to reason. I would have come earlier, I just had no idea things were this bad; that the alcalde could jail a caballero like my father astounds me to no end. Well, Bernardo, let's make an appearance in the pueblo and gauge our adversary's strength. Zorra, stay here, alright?" he patted me on the head when he asked the question.

I chirped a yes to the question, then made my sound for food.

"Of course. Bernardo could you carry a meal to my room? I guess I'll be eating in here with the little fox since it would seem weird if you carried it to an empty room."

Bernardo nodded and left the room. I sighed. It seemed like I'd be left alone the rest of the day, but I could spend my time eating with my person. I gazed adoringly at him, and rested my head in his lap.

ZZZ