In the Eyes of a Fox

    The sun hung brightly in the sky, washing the street in a warm and welcoming light that kept the street buzzing with activity. Most mammals, normal mammals, believed that violence avoided such days, preferring to come in the dark. In secret, shadowy places like alleyways where greed slashed the throat or the silence of a bedroom in the middle of the night where jealousy changed a lover’s claws into a murder weapon. The fox kit, currently celebrating his tenth birthday, knew the truth of it already. He watched his father leave the prey owned candy store, adjusting his crisp and cleanly pressed jacket with a bright smile turned towards his son. As if the smell of blood hadn’t wafted from the door, into the kit’s sensitive nose, as he left the building. Through the glass doors, the kit could see the limp paw of the ram who had knocked him to the ground just for looking through the window.

    He pretended not to notice, of course, when his father dropped down on one knee in front of him without seeming concern for the state of his equally neat pants. He loved the sparkle in his sire’s deep amber eyes when he reached out to ruffle his head fur. “Sorry, kit. I couldn’t convince him to let you in for a candy shopping spree. We’ll just have to go somewhere else. The park maybe? Or to get ice cream?”

    “Both,” was the reply, a sly grin climbing up his muzzle as he considered his options. There was something about this type of situation, which he had seen before, that made his father very… Amicable to demands, something the young fox was more than willing to take advantage of. “And I wanna see the aquarium later.”

    “You…” the russet colored fox began, his eyes narrowing on his son playfully before he slipped his paws under slender arms to give a quick tickle. The yip of laughter as he tried to squirm away from the ticklish sensation almost drowned out the rest.  “…are just as greedy as your mother when you want something. You have her looks and fur coloring, too. Lucky you.”

    “Dad,” he complained in a drawn-out whine, feeling a flush heat his cheeks before he released light huff and slanted an annoyed look at the older fox. “Stop comparing me to a girl.”

    “Your mother is not a ‘girl.’” The tone used was a direct mimic of his own tone, easily achieved because even at this age, he was already starting to sound like his father. “She is a beautiful specimen, and before you came along, my one and only weak spot. And because you look like her, that means you will have all the looks and charm you need when you take over.”

     The kit wasn’t able to stay mad long. Before standing, he was swept into a warm embrace and the security of his father’s chest. The familiar scent, mingled with what he assumed was the soap he had used to clean up in the candy store, calmed him before he released a delighted shriek as he was sent flying upward. Two strong paws lifted him high, giving him a new view of the world as he let his legs dangle happily from the shoulders he now sat on as they started to walk towards the park. He glanced up, squinting against the sun for a moment as he studied the shadow in the distance.

    “When will it be done, dad?”

    “It will be a few years yet, son,” the older fox said, both of them now turning their eyes to the massive skeletal structure of The Tower being built against the skyline.

    “When it is, I wanna go all the way to the top!”

    “Sure thing, Nicky,” came the chuckled reply, along with a little with every step that made the kit giggle at the free ride. “We’ll even have our name on the door if you want.”

    “We don’t have to put their names on the door, do we?” he questioned, pouting a bit as his little paws gripped the around the older fox’s ears as they twitched with amusement.

    “No, I don’t think so, son. It will say ‘Wilde and Son,’” he continued as father and son continued down the street. “And it will be just for us.”