Chapter 4: Run Fox, Run!

"Let every fox take care of his own tail." – Italian proverb

Nick took off running on all four of his paws up the staircase into the stately manor's second story, weaving back and forth while he desperately fled the humans behind him. There was the telltale crack of a rifle and the whizzing of a nearby bullet as it flew just past his right ear.

He stood up and ran along the musty carpet runner towards the charred remains of the east wing, where he hoped to reach the bundle he had stashed there in preparation of what unfortunately had happened this afternoon, which was that the fox had been discovered. When he weaved towards a doorway, Nick skidded to a stop even as a uniformed man walked out of a nearby room.

"Blimey, it's a bloody fox!" the soldier cursed when he saw Nick. There was something in his hands, which he stuffed into his rucksack. Obviously, this soldier was not doing what he had been ordered to do and instead was up to petty thievery. "What are you doing up here?"

With the confused-looking rifleman in his way, Nick backpedaled and fled across the hallway into another room, his hope of reaching his bundle was now abandoned. "Did you see a fox?" someone yelled from the top of the stairs.

"Aye, he went in tay this room!" the soldier called back. "Why wert he wearing what looks like clothing?"

Panting, Nick ran his paws along the fireplace wall until he found a lever, and then with all his strength he pulled down and a hidden doorway creaked open. Slipping into the small room, he pulled the door shut and tried not to pant too loudly when he heard the voices getting closer. Bob had shown him this secret room and his human friend had called it a priest's hole, someplace in which an outlawed religious leader could hide from the authorities. The human had explained to the fox about something called Catholicism and these priests were outlawed by the crown, he told him about the many wars fought over the religion even though both sides believed in the same god. To him, it made no sense, but there was a good chance that for now, he was safe within the confines of this hidden room, at least until the soldiers left. There was thumping and the sounds of furniture being moved around, along with curses when his pursuers realized he was not to be found. Settling against the wall, he curled up and closed his eyes even as he contemplated what he needed to do next.

"They didn't find him!" the sergeant angrily said as he confronted the officer standing in the remains of a burnt-out room that once looked like a laboratory. "Now what do we do?"

"Report back to the captain the truth," the young officer replied as he picked up a few of the fire singed medical instruments and fiddled with the knobs of some large strange-looking device, which he believed had once been a generator of some kind. He had seen similar equipment to that which was strewn around the room before at his uncle's laboratory. Then he paused while he stared at the strange marking which had been scratched into the remnants of the wooden floor and realized it was part of a pentagram…so it was true that forbidden witchcraft had indeed been practiced here.

"We can't go back there and tell the captain we talked to a fox!" the sergeant objected. "They would take us for looney and cashier us from service or even worse, ship us off to France."

"Sergeant, the truth is simple. The lord of this manor has not been consorting with either the Germans or the rebels and that is what we will report."

"But what of the talking fox?"

"What talking fox?" the young officer simply asked as he turned and faced the older soldier.

The sergeant blinked in confusion for a few moments before he realized what the much younger officer was saying. Snapping to attention, he gave a relieved grin before he threw a salute, "Yes, sir!"

"Now gather the men and let's get the hell out of this place, we have a rebellion to help put down."

"Yes, sir!"

The young English officer watched while the sergeant left the room, bellowing his orders to the other soldiers. Just as he began to follow, something caught his attention and he noticed an odd-looking piece of parchment with drawings upon it. Next to it was a small notebook, which although it too was scorched by the flames, it was still mostly intact. He picked up the notebook and dusted it off and then reached down for the sheet of paper, but when his hand touched the page he realized that it was not paper but some type of skin that had been stretched and dried. Holding it up, he felt an aura of evil that radiated from the page, and with disgust he carefully slipped the sheet into the notebook.

Hours later, Nick cautiously left the hidden room and crept around the now-empty building. Once he was confident that he was alone, he went and gathered his small bundle of belongings. Inside of the pack were some clothes, simple garments that he and Bob had found in an upper room. They were doll clothes for a large doll which one of Bob's family members had once owned and although they were slightly too large for Nick, they would work to replace his now threadbare uniform. He had also tried on some children's clothes they had found, but they were much too large and he was surprised to find out that not that long ago even the male human toddlers wore dresses, which made sense for potty training before disposable diapers were invented. Griping his bundle, he fugitively looked around once again before he entered the kitchen.

The room was a mess, it was evident that the soldiers had chosen to partake in what little food that the fox had in storage, and he was left only with a few scraps. Although the villagers were, like most of the native Irish, renowned for their hospitality to strangers there was no possible way he could partake in it for he was a fox. Nervously he waited for nightfall to descend over the land, afraid that the British had left spies to watch over the house or that the locals would come to make sure that he had not been harmed.

Sure enough that afternoon there was the clip-clopping of a horse's hoofs on the road and a wagon belonging to a local farmer with the village priest sitting beside the stout farmer appeared. A small smile came across the fox's muzzle for he knew that despite the fact that the Fitzgeralds had long lived here many generations before their distant cousin the Earl of Desmond had raised a rebellion against a queen who Bob called that "red-headed woman and her religion", they were still considered by the locals as intruders. "They tolerate our family, for there is an old saying that goes 'better the devil you know," was what Bob used to say about his relationship with the local farmers and villagers. But Nick knew that he could not stay, for the farmer was a member of a group who called themselves the Sinn Féin and would insist on seeing him.

With a heavy heart, the fox crawled out of one of the manor's windows and disappeared into the overgrown woods beyond, leaving the only sanctuary he knew of in this strange land behind him and stuck out with his bundle upon his shoulder towards the great unknown.

He was a fox on the run.

The Fitzgerald family has always been entwined in the history of Ireland since Maurice FitzGerald, was an Anglo-Norman supporter of Lord of Pembroke, known as "Strongbow", during his 1169 invasion of Ireland. Later Gerald FitzGerald, 14th Earl of Desmond was called the "Rebel Earl" and led the Second Desmond Rebellion against that "red-headed woman", Elizabeth I.

The Sinn Féin is a political party founded in 1905 and became a major player in Ireland's independence, the civil war, and the history of the nation until today. It is considered by some as the political wing of the Provisional Irish Republican Army (IRA).