Prologue
The moon was covered by black clouds that night. Mossflower woods was shrouded in darkness, only receiving light from the occasional flashes of lightning. Rain reduced the dirt paths into muddy messes. The woodland beasts wisely stayed inside their homes. Agatha Prickle was no exception.
In a great tree stump, Agatha sat in a wicker rocking chair, letting it slowly move her back and forth. The hedgehogmaid let out a small yawn; the rocking was going to put her to sleep eventually. Any other night, that would be fine. But tonight was different. Agatha shook her head, trying to wake herself up. She couldn't sleep now, not while her infant needed to be cared for. In Agatha's arms was not a hedgehog. It wasn't even any of the usual Mossflower beasts Agatha encountered all her life. In fact, the infant was something Agatha, a resident of the peaceful Mossflower forest, never thought she'd meet: a fox cub. A whimper from the newborn fox caught Agatha's attention. The hedgehogmaid glanced down in surprise.
"Oh, baby Barabell," she cooed as she picked up a bottle that rested on a nearby table. "Hungry again? You're just like my old daughter, Thisabella. She was always hungry, that child."
Barabell drank from the bottle hungrily. Agatha watched her with caring eyes. She felt a sad smile tug at her lips. It seemed like so long ago that Thisabella and her sister Pokey had left the tree stump to live their own lives, and even longer ago since both were infants like the fox cub. The aging maiden sighed. Barabell finished her milk after a short while, and Agatha set the bottle down.
"Now will you sleep, baby Barabell?" asked Agatha.
The infant responded by yawning. Slowing her rocking to a stop, Agatha stood up from the rocking chair and approached a little wooden crib. Thisabella and Pokey used this crib when they were cubs, and now it would be used again. Agatha laid the young one down.
"Goodnight, baby Barabell," she whispered.
She glanced up, outside of her window. A flash of lightning bathed Mossflower in enough light for Agatha to see the graves she had dug earlier that day. She bowed her head sorrowfully.
"Your child is in good paws, dear foxes. Farewell."