It had been a long night for Agatha. The maiden hedgehog sat in a wicker rocking chair, letting the furniture send her back and forth in a repetitive, yet soothing fashion. It almost made the hedgehog fall asleep. Almost. While Agatha was very tired, she couldn't rest until the young one resting in her lap had done so first. Agatha gazed down at the newborn. It wasn't her kind. No, in fact it was something the hedgehog never thought she, a simple forest creature, would encounter: a fox cub.
The cub sucked slowly on the nipple of her bottle, drinking the last drops of warm milk inside of it. When the milk was gone, Agatha set the bottle down on an elm table, and cradled the cub.
"Are you full, baby Barabell?" the hedgehog asked. She chuckled when the young one burped in reply. "That's good. Now, you must sleep."
Agatha slowed her rocking to a stop, and got up from the chair. She walked through her home, and stopped before an old cradle. So many years had passed since Agatha had used this cradle; her own young were grown and gone. Now, however, it would be used again. The hedgehog maiden rested little Barabell in the cradle. A smile fell upon Agatha's face when she saw Barabell already fast asleep.
"Goodnight, my baby Barabell."
Agatha glanced out of her window. Even in the darkness of Mossflower Woods, she could still see the two graves she had buried earlier that day. The maiden frowned.
"And, farewell, poor foxes."