Chapter Four: Beastly Assistance

The seconds passed like eons as Franck waited for the sharp teeth to sink into his flesh. But the attack he feared never came, and instead he felt a cool, moist nose sniffing at his temple.

"Son of Adam, c'n y'hear me?"

Franck had never considered himself fluent in English, and a strong accent made the words even harder to understand. Yet there was no mistaking them for anything but human Speech, and he lowered his arm slightly to look around.

There was no one near him except for the dog and the fox.

Franck swallowed a wave of cold fear; surely it couldn't be that one of them had Spoken?

"I am Rawlstow," the voice continued, and this time he could swear he saw the fox's lips move.

He was delirious; delirious and hallucinating. There was no earthly reason he should hallucinate a Talking Fox, let alone one that spoke English, but neither was there any other reasonable explanation.

Then the fox's exploring nose reached Franck's injured arm; it barely brushed the sling, but that slight touch was enough to make Franck gasp with the fresh wave of pain. "Leave me alone," he whimpered in German.

For a moment, it seemed the fox had understood and obeyed, disappearing from his side. Then it was back, lifting his head with one black foreleg and holding a cup to his lips. "Drink; it will help w'th'pain."

Struggling with the accented English, Franck dimly realized the beast was attempting to give him some kind of medicine. A hallucination, he reminded himself. But the prospect of relief from his pain was too tempting to be ignored, and he gulped the liquid down regardless of whether the fox was indeed a hallucination or something even more sinister.

"If I understand th'dog correctly, he said y'fell in th'stream, so let m'just listen an' b'sure y'don't have any water in yer lungs," the fox continued.

Franck blinked as he pulled out what appeared to be a kind of one-eared stethoscope, and for the first time wondered if this might not be real. To dream of an English-speaking talking fox was fantastic enough; that he should dream it was some kind of doctor complete with stethoscope surely strained all credibility; his dreams had always been far more prosaic than that.

And as he slowly worked through the fox's sentence it came to him that it had seemed to say the dog spoke to it. But surely that was the only thing that actually did make sense in this whole crazy adventure. After all, wasn't it far more likely that a dog should be understood by a fox than that a fox should be understood by a man?

The fox was as thorough as any doctor, pressing the listener to various points on Franck's chest. Franck breathed deeply when the animal asked, deciding vaguely that even if this was some kind of dream or hallucination, he might as well go along with it.

And if it was a hallucination, it was certainly a very vivid one, because the pain in his arm did in fact seem to be lessening. Though that, he thought cynically, could simply mean he was slipping deeper into whatever coma he had fallen and was less able to feel it.

"There's no water in yer lungs," the fox announced, tossing the listener around his neck with an air or relief.

The dog whined, and the fox barked a reply. Franck blinked; had the dog, unable to fully understand human speech, asked for and gotten a translation? Well, he had always believed dogs were intelligent…

"Let's have a look at that arm now," the fox continued.

"Nein," Franck whimpered, cringing away. The pain was bearable now, but he knew any touch would send renewed fire shooting up the injury. He pushed feebly at the fox with his good hand, but it deftly evaded him and slipped around to stand on his injured side.

Franck gritted his teeth, steeling himself, but instead of the white-hot pain he expected, the fox's first touch brought only a dull throb — bad, but bearable. Relaxing slightly, he watched as surprisingly deft black paws eased the arm from its sling.

"Y'broke both bones in yer arm," the fox told him when it had finished its examination. "I c'n put a poultice on t'bring down th'swellin', an' I'll set it when we get back t'm'den."

Understanding only about half of what it had said. Franck watched through half lidded eyes as it spread a mixture of herbs over the swollen arm, then lightly bandaged it with a splint before easing it back into the sling.

He jumped slightly when the fox's cool nose nudged against his face, startling him out of his half doze. "C'n y'walk?"

"J-ja," he managed, groping for a handful of red fur to pull himself unsteadily to his feet. To his surprise, the fox rose to its hind legs beside him, steadying him as he walked.

"It's not far," it encouraged, "but I c'n have th'dwarves bring a litter if y'need it."

"Danke," he murmured, understanding little beyond an offer of aid.

Next chapter coming next week!

I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! (Note that this story is formatted using British spellings.)

Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie