Silver and Gold of All Wonders
{A Fantastic Mr. Fox fan fiction}
Chapter 1
Nadir
"Could this day get any better?' Ash growled to himself as he read his comic book. It had been a little over a week (7 & 1/4 fox weeks) since the Foxes had moved into their new home in the tree but Ash's discomfort living there was much the same as living in their previous foxhole. The main source of these feelings took shape in the form of a soon to be arriving visitor that had the whole household in an uproar. Even though Ash could now enjoy the privacy of his own room, this privilege would be short lived seeing as he would have to share it with his cousin Kristofferson, who was coming to stay while his uncle recovered from double pneumonia (whatever on this golden earth that was). The fox didn't understand much about the situation, but from what he could gather, it was severe enough to cause the relocation of the unwanted guest. Ash remembered very little about his cousin; his only memories were that they had played together when they were younger during some of the family visits across the river (the much more luxurious side of the forest). Based on how the other mammals Ash had met from that side of the woods usually behaved, there was little hope of Kristofferson being nothing more than a spoiled brat who berated his parents because they wouldn't let him have extra dessert. Kristofferson was from his mother's (far more sensible) side of the family however, and it had been quite some time since the two had last seen each other. As faded images of his cousin bounced through his mind, Ash wondered how much the silver fox had, if at all, changed.
Mrs. Fox, gentle but deadly, had made Ash frivolously clean his room earlier that morning in expectation of Kristofferson's arrival. Ash begrudgingly complied, and throughout the entire duration of stuffing dust bunnies further underneath the bed and setting comic books back on the shelves, Ash continually muttered, "he's not going to notice every single speck of dust mom." As Ash sifted through a particularly large pile of crumpled up papers, a feeling of annoyance began to seep into the mind: why was he the one who had to put up with this strange fox, why was he the one who had to lose one of his few privileges left at home to accommodate this (most likely) spoiled relative while Ash's parents enjoyed complete and total privacy in their own bedroom and Mr. Fox's study (to which they took much advantage of). Life in this stupid tree was beginning to feel more like a chapter of Hairy Potter, and Ash was by no means taking the place of Dudley.
The conditions at school were not much better seeing as Ash lacked greatly in the realm of friends and was seen as subpar by most of his teachers, in particular, Coach Skip, who was in charge of the sports department and head of the whack-bat team. Ash had fought tooth and nail to get on the team for as long as he could remember, but at almost every opportunity he would be tapped out by another one of his teammates and would spend the rest of the game on the bench. Regardless of the fact he had almost took the school all the way to the Triple B finals a few seasons ago, most of the other players simply brushed aside Ash as nothing more than a hopeless chaser of his father's former glory. Ash often invited dad to the games, but Mr. Fox seldom was a member of the bleachers, usually giving excuses that had become all too familiar.
"I had to get tomorrows edition of Fox About Town to the Gazette or Elton would've buried me alive."
"It wasn't even that big of a game son. I mean come on the strays team barely scored nine points."
"I'm sure there will be another one soon."
Ash had tried his best to fit in when he was younger, but almost every attempt was met with merciless quips and blank stares from those around him. In response to this, Ash seemingly lost most of his manners and filter when it came to interacting with those around him, but these mannerisms were only a facade to hide any and all emotion it could. Ash knew the moment he tried to express any of his feelings or interest, everyone would simply say, "well I guess he's just... different," accompanied by that stupid hand gesture that made him feel as though there was something severely wrong with him. The idea of finally being able to reside in a room where he didn't have to wear his mask greatly exited Ash, but as luck decided, a change in the winds was needed and uprooted any hope Ash had of peace and quiet.
Ash finished cleaning up his room just in time for come down for a quick lunch, but Mrs. Fox had quickly moved on to other household tasks and Mr. Fox was nowhere to be found. Ash managed to scrounge up just enough to make something that somewhat resembled a ham and cheese sandwich (the larder was particularly empty due to the cost of the move) and sat down at the head seat of the dining room table. The absence of anyone else sitting down greatly humored him at first, but eventually, the empty table began to get to Ash, so he quickly grabbed the remnants of his lunch and scrambled up the tree to a single, solitary branch just outside his bedroom window. He had first discovered the branch while trying to catch issue #43 of The White Cape that had been swept away by the wind. Sitting up alone on this branch, far removed from ordinary troubles, Ash had come to discover his last remaining place of peace (his tower of solitude as he liked to call it). Whenever a vacation was needed from everyone and everything, Ash felt that all he needed to do was to climb up to this one small branch, and as long as he sat there, he was unstoppable. Cut off from the rest of the world, Ash could be whoever he wanted to be, and someday, he would get way from all this; all it took was a leap, and there was no limit to the world beyond those golden hills.
The familiar sound of the study door swinging open brought Ash back to his senses, and as he listened to the muffled chatter emerging from downstairs, he was able to make out two distinctive voices; among the droll rabble of what could only be Mr. Fox's tape lectures, Ash was able to distinctly make out the uncannily timid voice of Kylie. The Opossum had been helping with Mr. Fox as some sort of "secretary" during the last few weeks, but most of their work was done in privately in the study room. Every so often, however, the opossum would wonder around the house looking for things to fix or tinker on while giving dramatic retellings of his fishing exploits to Ash. Eventually, their conversations would be interrupted by Mr. Fox, who would say he needed to "talk shop" with kylie about something. Ash climbed down from his branch to further investigate (and hopefully annoy) whatever foolish (and most likely illegal) planning Mr. Fox had in store, but he was quickly caught by Mrs. Fox while climbing back in through the living room window. After a lengthy lecture about tracking mud and leaves into a freshly vacuumed floor, Ash continued his search for the two, but was blocked by the already shut door of the study. Deciding to give up the pursuit for now, Ash sauntered through the house until finally ending up in a comfy red armchair with issue #74 of The White Cape covering most of his face. As he flipped through the pages of flashing colors and text, Ash hoped beyond hope that maybe, just maybe, Kristofferson would never arrive. As the shadows of the leaves from outside ceased their swaying due to the dying of the wind, time seemed to have slowed to a halt. Eventually, even Mrs. Fox got bored of waiting and started to vacuum part of the kitchen which she had previously done not but a few hours earlier.
The clock finally struck three, and as if on cue, Mr. Fox and Kylie emerged from the study and quickly dispersed throughout the home. Their meetings usually occurred like clockwork, but the anomaly this time was that Mr. Fox now had a pair of binoculars around his neck and was making a beeline for the living room window. Ash pretended to ignore them as Kylie stepped out the door, with a luxuriously full bucket of minnows that had a small, red bow tied to it (whoever that could be for). No sooner had Mr. Fox raised his binoculars to peer through the window before he loudly exclaimed, "what in the ever-loving cuss does that sign say?" Ash perked up at his father's strange remark and slid off his chair to join in on peering at the source of interest, but was beaten by Mrs. Fox, who snatched the binoculars up for herself to confirm the strange sight. After a multi emotional "Hrm" from Mrs. Fox, she set the lookers down and walked out the front door of the house. Mr. Fox followed in hot pursuit, but Ash still wanted his chance at looking through the device. His chance was short lived however, due to Mrs. Fox poking her head through the door and beckoning him to follow. The young fox's annoyance was at an all-time high, but he set the binoculars down and followed his parents down the hill. Whether out of daydreaming or sheer bloody apathy, Ash still hadn't bothered to figure out why they had left the tree, but as they crossed the small brook that marked the end of their hillside and began to make their way up to the golden ridgeline, a growing figure in the distance gave him the answer he was looking for. A lone, silver fox dragging a small suitcase made its way down the hill towards the group, and as it approached, Ash was able to read the sign hanging from around its neck which read: "UNACCOMPANIED MINOR."
Welcome dear reader to a land of whimsical enchantment. I hope you enjoyed the first taste of what me, (the author, the creator, the brainstorm extravaganzanator) has been cooking up for the last few days in the wee small hours of the night. The plans for this story stretch much further and deeper than what has been divulged in this first course. At this point, I am not sure at what time part 2 shall emerge to the world, but rest assured I shall not yet falter in delivering whateverintheworld this accursed product is. Chapter 2 should be out in [REDACTED] unless I get a random creative rush in the middle of the night. If you have any wonderful ideas on what I can add to this world by all means bring it to my attention. ON THE FINAL NOTE: yes this story does not seem worthy of the M rating quite yet, but rest assured, I handle my fluff with dignity. In the words of Mr. Darcy, "I shall conquer this, I shall."