Dead Foxy. Like

The weight of a billion burrows pushed on Gorden's shoulders as he trudged through the forest. They were finally in sight of the warren - they'd even passed a couple of rabbits working between the trees.

The events of the past couple of weeks kept flashing in front of Gorden's eyes. He could see so many deaths and so much pain.

He was steeling himself, preparing to meet the Head Buck. There would be some sort of accounting. He'd found another warren and then collapsed it! He'd met monks and hawks and bats and ferrets.

He huffed to himself - At least the Monks had survived. A shiver ran down his spine as a dark thought bubbled up from his hind-brain - Maybe the monks hadn't survived. Maybe just his passing through was enough to bring pain.

"Gorden!" Cola slapped him on the back. "Look up!" He'd been staring at his feet in despondency. "Look! I can see the South Warren Entrance!"

"There's blood on the floor." Plessey said in a low voice. Gorden blinked.

Gorden realised that he'd been staring at patches of red on the floor for the past minute, but had been so locked up inside himself he'd not realised what he was looking at.

"Hellfire." Gorden said quietly, closing his eyes. "How many more?" He whispered to himself.

Cola knelt down and inspected the patches of someone's lifeblood. Her hand reached out and tentatively touched the nearest patch of blood - the careful nature of her touch made her gesture look like she was stroking the blooded earth with the hint of a motherly "There, There".

"It's wet," She said, turning her paw over and looking at her wet finger pads. She wiped her paw clean on the nearest patch of grass and stood up purposefully.

"It trails off to the left and to the right.."

Gorden stretched his neck. "You and Plessey follow the left trail, "Cola was about to disagree but he cur her off, "I'll take the right. If you find anything, scream and I'll come running."

"And," Cola said, "If you find anything, you call and we'll come running."

Gorden grunted an affirmation and padded off.

---*---

"Come on doe." Plessey said floating off along the trail of blood drops, "Quicker we go, quicker we get back." Cola nodded and followed the floating snail along the blood trail.

The trail led into the forest and it became more obvious that they weren't just following a trail of blood. There were crushed bushes and snapped twigs in abundance to satisfy the most trail blind boy-scout. Something, well, someone, had staggered through the woods, bleeding. Cola was glad she wasn't alone when she realised that it would need a larger animal than a rabbit to make this trail.

They came out into a clearing and Plessey stopped.

"Something happened here.." He said floating towards the centre. "Look," he pointed, "Rope."

"I'm not a tracking animal." Cola complained, "I can't read the scuffle-marks or smell what animals slept her last night or just passed through."

"Neither am I," Plessey said. "But we can make some guesses."

Cola picked up one length of blood-stained rope that lay on the floor. And held it up, shrugging.

"Look at the rope." Plessey said encouragingly. "Look at the ends. Look at that knot in the middle."

Cola's paws threaded the rope through and she stared at the knot, about a third of the way along the length. Then she grabbed both ends and frowned at them, imploring them to tell her their story.

"The ends are not cleanly cut.." She said hesitantly. "Broken?" She suggested.

"Snapped, maybe." Plessey said.

"Was an animal tied up, then the animal broke herself out of the ropes?"

"Or himself.." Plessey said quietly, nodding. Then "Strong animal, to break a rope like that."

Suddenly Cola realised, "If this is where the attack took place, then Gorden is going in the direction of the animal." She turned and started off back the way they came then broke into a sprint.

"Animals?" Plessey said. Then he realised he was talking to himself and zipped after the retreating rabbit tail.

--- * ---

Gorden used his staff to push a broken tree branch out of his way. Whoever had come this way had been staggering forcefully from one side to another.

As he followed the trail deeper and deeper into the woods he noticed that the blood spots were getting closer and closer together and larger and larger. There was a good chance that the animal was doing themselves harm by attempting to travel whilst this hurt.

He realised that he was the one travelling in the same direction as the injured animal and felt a feeling of satisfaction that Cola was, therefore, ostensibly safe.

The trail led into a thicket. A rough tunnel through the brambles had been broken by the bleeding creature. It was more than large enough for Gorden to use.

"Means it's not a rabbit." He said to himself. He took a deep breath and pushed on, into the darkness of the tunnel. It didn't seem as inviting as the Swan's reed-cavern had ever appeared.

Even though the path had been broken by a larger - and more powerful, Gorden thought -, animal than himself, there were still thorns enough to make Gorden's travel slow and deliberate. As he reached the end of the thicket, he snagged his arm on a thistle and didn't notice quickly enough. He was spun round by the restraint and actually backed out into the light at the end of the tunnel.

He pulled the thistle off and tutted to himself.

He was startled by a ragged cough behind him and he turned. He turned to realise that he was perched at the top of a hollow, right on the edge. He lost his balance and stood on one foot, twirling his arms for, what seemed like an infinity before gravity reeled him in and he rolled down to the base of the hollow.

He stopped rolling when he bumped into a prone animal.

The creature made a noise which might have been a sarcastic "thank you" or might have been ruder. It was difficult to tell but scared the life out of Gorden who jumped up to his feet.

At the bottom of this hollow, bloody and limp was Sly, the fox.

The fox strained his head round to look at Gorden. It wasn't a good look - one of his eyes had been taken out and a slash on his forehead was dripping blood into the good eye. Not a pretty sight.

The fox crawled half a step towards him then stopped.

"You've come," beat "to finish," beat "me off, eh?" He managed, "Well," beat, "You're too," beat beat, "Late. The little" beat beat "bugger did," beat beat beat, "a good," beat beat beat beat, "job."

He made one last low moan, and was silent.

Gorden began to shake from the shoulders down. Sobs came, fitfully at first, then he was crying.

---*---

Cola and Plessey found him there. Standing next to the bloody, dead fox. Crying the same way he had for David. The same was he had all those years ago for his mother.

--- * ---

They helped Gorden up and out of the hollow and out of the thicket. Cola hugged him tightly and they walked arm-in-arm along the path towards the warren.

A young doe bounced towards them.

"Is that Gorden The Nobel Hero Of Our Warren?" What a strange way of talking she had, Gorden thought. He nodded at her. "Don't you recognise me, it's Mable!"

The reporter, Gorden realised.

"I. Want. To go. To. Bed."

---*---