Fern was confused. Every day for almost a fortnight, she had emerged from the earth to find something edible deposited on the ground outside. Today it was a mangled hen blackbird. Fern picked it up and carried it inside for Spencer.

'Smells of cat again.' He remarked, biting the head off and gulping it down in one.

'I don't know what that cat's up to,' Fern replied. 'If he wants us to leave, why is he bringing us food?'

'If we could catch him, we could ask him.'

'I'd rather catch myself a meal instead,' Fern snorted and left the earth abruptly.

Spencer looked at the cubs, which looked back at him with their newly opened, cloudy blue eyes. 'It's just you and me now, kids.'

The high wall surrounding the churchyard where the pair of foxes lived had so far proved insurmountable to the vixen in the throes of new motherhood. However, Fern's diligently collected food store was now exhausted and she was faced with a straightforward choice – vault the wall or starve.

One portion of the wall was somewhat lower than the rest and Fern set her sights on it. She trotted back and forth a few times, warming up her out-of-condition limbs, paused to listen for any activity on the other side and cleared the stonework in a single bound

The street was deserted. The clipping of Fern's claws competed for volume with the breeze rustling the beech hedge. A bag of greasy chips coated in dubious red sauce lurking under the dormant vegetation made a welcome meal and gave Fern the impetus to embark on her first tour of the territory in a fortnight. She headed north towards the canal where the rats lived, a popular spot for itinerant homeless foxes taking their chances in the city. Sure enough, a stranger patrolled the water's edge. Hackles raised, Fern skirted downwind of the intruder and sniffed at the breeze, trying to catch a useful scent. The vixen relaxed a little when she recognised the animal as her brother, Swift. She barked a greeting and three rats exploded out of a litter bin and headed for a broken drain cover. Fern wasted no time felling the slowest while Swift paddled through the murky water to greet his sister, who he had not seen since before the mating season.

'Living in the old patch, I take it?' Swift grinned.

'In the old den.' Fern replied.

'What about Spencer?' Swift enquired.

Fern narrowed her eyes a little. 'His face has healed up, but I don't think he'll lose the scar any time soon.'

Swift looked at his paws. 'I've said I was sorry – how was I supposed to know you knew him?'

'It's just the way you are,' Fern shrugged. 'Attack first and think later.'

'Father thought before attacking once, didn't he?' Swift pointed out. 'He never did it again, did he?'

Fern gazed at the water. 'I try not to think about Mother and Father.'

'You should.' Swift stated. 'You should tell your cubs about them too.'

'Have you got any cubs?' Fern asked, briskly changing the subject.

'Yes,' Swift smiled. 'Two dogs and five vixens.'

'Seven? You'll be busy,' Fern smiled, 'I stopped at four – three vixens and a dog.'

'So how come you're out and about already?' Swift asked, 'surely Spencer can manage to feed you by himself?'

Fern sighed, 'I think he would have been more than equal to the task had he not got himself run over. He can't move, let alone hunt. He's keeping the cubs warm while I'm out and about.'

'Do you think he'll get over it or will you have to hunt for him forever?'

'I don't know Swift,' Fern mumbled, 'I just can't think that far ahead.'

Swift blinked. To offer help did not even cross his mind – he could only think of his own families' survival and his part in that. Fern did not expect any different.

'Do you remember that old vixen we saw get hit behind the supermarket?' Swift asked.

'The one with the white ears?' Fern asked.

'Yes, I saw her a few weeks ago,' Swift said proudly. 'She was walking a bit strangely, but she was still getting around and she's got no mate feeding her.' Pausing for a moment, Swift wondered if his effort at making his sister feel better had been successful. 'If she's okay, then Spencer's got a good chance with you looking after him.'

'I have to get back.' Fern said and picked up the dead rat.

'See you soon!' Swift barked after her. 'Best of luck with the cubs and hope Spencer gets better!'

Fern turned and blinked at her brother, but he was already paddling his way back across the canal.

When Spencer was alone with the cubs, he felt duty-bound to stay awake and keep an eye on them. At two weeks old, their infant personalities were beginning to emerge. Scarlet delighted in winning play fights with her sisters even though only Whisper fought back and Petal preferred to crawl away from confrontation. All Chestnut wanted was the light at the end of the entrance tunnel.

Spencer reached a forepaw towards his son to pull him away from the tunnel entrance. Had she been there, Fern would have let him wander further afield as she could move further than Spencer's pitiful few inches. Before he could reach his son, the cub let out a tiny panicked squeal and squirmed towards his father. A second later a shadow fell across the earth entrance. This usually heralded Fern's return with food, but Chestnut never ran away from his mother. Spencer craned his neck and sniffed.

Cat.

The cat was coming into the earth.

Spencer glanced at the cubs and realised that he could only rescue one of them if he made a hasty retreat through the back, leaving him with one possible course of action if he was to preserve his whole family.

Hauling himself upright, Spencer ignored the pain in his hind limbs and lurched towards the entrance tunnel. He jammed himself in the opening and barked.

The cat hissed in reply. He was going nowhere without a fight.

'What are you doing in my earth?'

'Doing what the humans are too dumb to manage for themselves – evicting vermin.'

'Maybe the humans don't want us to leave.' Spencer grinned. 'Maybe they like us. Maybe they like us more than they like you.'

'Impossible,' the cat sneered. 'I'm their pet. They let me in their house and sleep on their bed.'

'You mean they like to keep you where they can see you.'

The cat began to realise that its chances of winning the argument were diminishing rapidly and it was time to change tack.

'I don't want you here,' he hissed.

'I don't care.' Spencer sneered. 'We're going nowhere.'

'In that case I'll rip you to shreds here then start on your ratty little brats.'

Spencer boiled. 'You couldn't rip your way out of a wet paper bag.'

The cat's hackles rose and it shifted its feet. Spencer continued.

'Losing your nerve little kitty?' He sneered, 'Better run along back to the basket of toys your master bought you.'

Enraged, the cat spat at the fox and lashed out with a razor-clawed paw. Spencer was ready and caught the leg neatly in his jaws and bit hard. The cat screamed and flailed wildly with its free paw, hitting nothing but the earth wall where Spencer's ear had been a split second earlier. The fox jerked his head again and again, dragging the cat along too. Something crunched.

Human footsteps approached.

Spencer let go and the cat erupted from the earth, flashing past his master's ankles as the caretaker embarked on a nocturnal search for his pet. Stooping to retrieve his quaking and bleeding pet from underneath a holly bush, he saw the three mauled goldfish stolen from the Church fishpond and discarded outside the foxes' earth.

'Oh Puss, whatever am I going to do with you?' He sighed, cradling his pet in his arms. 'You're supposed to catch mice, not fish and I thought you had given up fighting after your last trip to the vet... surely you haven't forgotten that already?'

If Puss could have replied in a similar manner, he would have assured his master that he would *never* forget his last trip to the vet. Albeit an octave higher than he would have liked...

Instead, the cat allowed himself to be carried home, staring over his master's shoulder. Silhouetted against the bright streetlight, he saw the vixen leap over the Churchyard wall. He shut his eyes and smugly imagined the revenge his master would take on the vulpine invaders.

Fern returned to the earth and was shocked to see blood spilled in the entrance tunnel. Spencer had dragged himself back into the chamber with the cubs, who cowered in a huddle as far from the entrance as they could manage.

'What happened?' Fern gasped.

'The cat tried to attack the cubs – I stopped him in the tunnel.'

'You fought the cat?' Fern asked incredulously. 'But there's not a scratch on you!'

Spencer grinned. 'You know I'm better than that.'

It was the first time he had smiled since the accident. Fern could not help but smile back.

'I caught this for you – you've earned it.'

Spencer tore into the rat as Fern settled down to feed the cubs, coaxing them out of the corner and into the warm fur of her belly. A cold shiver ran down Fern's spine as she realised that had it not been for Spencer's fearless defence of the cubs, the cat would have slaughtered the whole family.

'At least we'll have some peace now the cat's gone.' Fern said.

'For the time being at least.' Spencer muttered.

'I thought you said you killed the cat in the tunnel?'

'No, I only bit his leg,' Spencer admitted. 'I let him go before you arrived.'

Fern was aghast. 'You know when it's healed he'll be back here looking for revenge. He won't give up so easily next time.'

'It was either let him go or risk losing an eye,' Spencer retorted. 'How would you like me blind as well as lame?'

Fern was unmoved. 'You should have killed him.'

Defeated, Spencer laid his head on his paws. 'I know.'

In the pale blue threads of dawn, Fern watched her mate fall asleep. She felt no guilt at her hard line attitude towards the kitty-loving, overgrown cub who had taken the place of her mate, only the sinking feeling that things were going to get worse.