Hidden in the endless blizzards and frigid cold was a modest laboratory, green house and home belonging to a black fox. This individual was quite particular. He woke up in the bedroom he fashioned for himself. After rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes, the black fox picked up a watering can from the bedside table and cried it to the kitchenette. He filled the dented watering can, turning off the tap with his paw before grasping the handle between his teeth once more. He padded through his home with a sigh all the way to his pride and joy- a thriving ecosystem enclosed in glass to protect it from ruthless blizzards that engulfed his home 9 months a year.
He spoke calmly to his evergreens as he watered them. Cooing about how much the plants had grown over the months he cared for them. He fixed his glasses with one paw before setting down the watering can by the door, padding back to the almost impenetrable foliage. He carefully lifted a pair of garden shears in his jaws, pruning back dead leaves and shrivelled blossoms.
Satisfied by his hard work, he wiped his forehead with one paw before placing down the shears. He often lost many hours wandering aimlessly amongst his collection of peculiar and common flora. He knew every species planted here. How much sun they needed. When they sprouted and bloomed and when they would die. He planted them with his own paws, but every day there was a chance to discover something new. He was a fox of science, after all. The fox noted discolourations, regrowth and other observations on his notepad with an ink pen.
With the morning greenhouse maintenance completed, he brought the kettle back to the kitchen and boiled some water for a cup of tea. The radio cackled. Static as usual. He was not expecting visitors to his sanctum. The fox curled up in his arm chair in the living room to rest his golden eyes. He hardly slept the night before, woken by the ruckus of his brilliant, his troubled mind. Spurred on by anxiety and depression.
Kuro was woken from his meditative slumber by howling wind combined with the blip of his sonar device, indicating a rather ferocious weather event. His heart beat kicked up for a moment. Nothing he wasn't prepared for. He had plenty of provisions and emergency survival gear in every room in case of a black out or any other type of emergency. Out here in the arctic, one had to be prepared for the worst. If he called, a rescue expedition would take weeks or months to reach him especially at this time of year. Kuro was a young fox. He could endure. The loneliness suited him. He had scientific endeavours and solitary hobbies to dedicate his waking hours to.
The black fox proceeded to tidy up his living room and moved onto the next room- a guest bedroom. Another ordinary day. Nothing special to break the tedium. Insanity was as dangerous as a power out or hypothermia. A clock on his wall was his only indication of how much time had passed since the windows were closed and the curtains drawn to preserve heat. The alarm steadily became more intense. The black fox decided to check the base was secured for an extreme weather event. Out here in the middle of nowhere, Kuro didn't have to worry about distressing like he did when he was human. He still collected dolls to fix them, and books. He liked to read. His mind calmly deciding which book to read next. The vulpine owned a whole library in his guest room.
With the loose external panel secured, his jaw ached from tugging on the rope. Rearing up on his hind paws, Kuro shut the door and dead bolted it. After shaking off copious amounts of snow in the doorway, the black lupine dried his fur with a towel and stood warming up by the heater, Kuro decided to return to his workshop to tinker with some of the dolls and handcrafted puppets he invested his spare time and sanity into. Inspiration was a fickle creature. Like the arctic landscape, inspiration was always there, waiting, but constantly changing in subtle, but impactful ways. He could not remember why he started liking finding, fixing, creating and selling dolls and puppets. No easy feat with his paws, but it kept his mind off things he would rather not think about.
Without glancing at the clock above the doorway, Kuro toiled away in his workshop on a project he set aside because it did not feel like the right time. He had lots of unfinished projects. That mentality was par for the course as a creative type. He amassed stacks of read, but well aged, books in every room and shelves of dolls and puppets here in the workshop. The dolls were kept in the workshop due to their fragility. Once he was finished, the often cheerful fox sold the dolls for a small profit to loving homes. He peered through his glasses until his golden, lamp like eyes strained after focusing on details for so long. Some days, he felt a lot older than he actually was.
He rubbed his eyes with his paws and padded out of the workshop, through the greenhouse, hoping that a stroll amongst the plant life would reinvigorate him. He did not like sleeping during weather events. The rustling pricked his ears. Droplets of water dripped down glossy leaves onto the soft earth path he wore smooth with his paws. Kuro stopped in his tracks. Eyes closed. Head tilted to the sky. Ears pinned back. Lungs filling with sweet, moist air as he inhaled deliberately deeply. Feeling slightly reinvigorated, Kuro padded back to his armchair in the living room. After he was comfortable, the vulpine set his glasses aside on a small stand next to a pile of books and curled up, basking in the warmth of the heater. He kept a heater in every room.