The Fox Cub Bold Page 13

  Robber noticed that Bold found even this a difficult task, although he was using his front paws. He was swaying from side to side in his weak state. The crow tried to be helpful by picking up leaves and grass in his beak and dropping them on the mound.

  ‘Please don’t trouble,’ said Bold. ‘I’ll get it done, even if it is the last thing I ever accomplish. You should go now, Robber, before you give the game away.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Robber. ‘But I shan’t stray far. I fear for you.’ He left the poor struggling fox reluctantly, convinced now that the end was near.

  Later in the day he saw Whisper set off on her sad, fruitless search. Bold’s precautions proved to be unnecessary as she did not go anywhere near the spinney of silver birch. The next day Robber saw the vixen waiting for him still. He yearned to fly to her, to greet her with the news of Bold’s lair. Yet he baulked at such an act of betrayal.

  The next day Whisper was gone. Robber knew she must have reached her objective. He waited no longer. Finding what food he could, he swooped down to the beech log. ‘Bold! Bold!’ he croaked. ‘It is I – Robber!’ He heard nothing. He ‘cawed’ loudly four times and then began feverishly to peck at the bundle that sealed the log’s entrance. He cleared a space and peered in, his head on one side. Bold was there, lying quite still.

  ‘Bold?’

  ‘Yes, I’m . . . still here,’ came the animal’s weak voice.

  ‘Thank goodness! cried Robber, who had suffered a fright. He went back for the food and brought it inside.

  Bold slowly raised himself. ‘Can’t . . . eat that,’ he muttered. ‘No point now.’

  ‘Yes, yes, there is,’ beseeched the crow. ‘Whisper has gone, but you can still live. You must.’

  ‘No . . . appetite,’ said Bold.

  ‘Try. You’ll feel better. Try!’

  Bold licked at Robber’s offering, then took it in his mouth obediently. Robber watched him with gratification.

  ‘I’ll fetch more,’ he promised, and wasted no time in setting about it.

  When he returned, Bold had quitted his hollow trunk and was stretched on the grass, blinking in the March sunlight. Robber pushed a dead fledgling towards him, still almost bald, that had dropped from its nest. Bold grunted. ‘You crows have . . . catholic tastes,’ he managed to say.

  ‘Bold, it’s not too late to change your mind,’ Robber said urgently. ‘I’ve seen the Park. It’s not far away.’

  ‘I know you mean well,’ said Bold. ‘But you are wasting . . . your breath. My mind . . . is made up. I can’t hunt – I can barely walk – would you have me remain alive and pampered with food while I lie almost helpless, like a Queen Bee?’

  ‘You make your point well,’ said Robber. ‘What do you intend to do then?’

  ‘I shall stay here,’ Bold answered. ‘The log will be my home until –’ He left the rest unsaid.

  The fledgling still lay where Robber had left it. ‘Won’t you eat this?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What shall I find for you then?’

  ‘Find me nothing and I shall be content,’ said Bold enigmatically. ‘And why do you stay with me? You should be looking for a mate.’

  ‘I shall do so,’ answered Robber. ‘Eventually.’

  Bold knew what he was thinking. ‘You haven’t long to wait, my faithful friend,’ he told him.

  The Farthing Wood Fox and his Vixen had remained together even when their cubs had grown and departed. Their inseparability made their relationship a unique one indeed among foxes. So when Charmer visited their earth with her startling news, they heard it together. In the darkness their faces were inscrutable, but their voices betrayed their emotion.

  ‘I always believed he was still alive,’ said Fox huskily. ‘Bold had the mark of a survivor.’

  ‘But why doesn’t he wish to return here?’ Vixen asked. ‘Why has he left his mate before his cubs are even born?’

  ‘Whisper didn’t tell me that,’ said Charmer, ‘so you must ask her yourself.’

  ‘There’s no need to ask,’ said Fox. ‘Bold is a proud animal. To return to White Deer Park would mean a loss of face.’

  ‘You are right, Fox,’ said Vixen. ‘I know you are – and yet I also know it to be an absurd notion. Pride can be stretched too far. How can loss of face be important when all his family long to see him?’

  ‘Those closest to him would be the very ones to fuel his sense of failure,’ said Fox who understood such things. ‘And so it’s necessary for us to go to him as he won’t come to us.’

  ‘How can we? Even Whisper doesn’t know where he is,’ said Charmer.

  ‘If Bold led his mate to the Reserve he is still close at hand,’ Fox remarked. ‘And we shall find him. We must all go – and Friendly his brother too – to look. But first, we should make the acquaintance of the new young vixen in our midst.’

  Whisper was a little abashed to see Charmer leading the famed Fox and Vixen – as well as a strange young male fox – towards her. But their unfeigned delight in seeing her soon put her at her ease. When they explained their plan she looked at their eager faces compassionately.

  ‘I don’t know how you will find him,’ she said. ‘But, even if you do, you must be prepared for the worst. Even now it may be too late.’

  ‘Too late? Why, how can it –’ Vixen began.

  ‘Bold is not the animal you once knew. He is older and wiser for his adventures, but he has suffered a great deal. His energy and physique are severely depleted. He received a terrible injury, long before he and I encountered each other, and he has never recovered from it. The journey he undertook at my behest to bring me to safety was – I freely admit it – too great an ordeal. During the last few days we were together he was failing visibly . . .’

  ‘Are you telling us, Whisper,’ Vixen asked, barely audibly, ‘that Bold is . . . dying?’ The last word came out as a long sigh.

  Whisper groaned. ‘Yes,’ she whined, ‘I believe that to be so.’

  ‘Then we must go at once!’ cried Friendly. ‘Father, Mother, we must leave now!’

  ‘Can he be so close and yet . . . so far . . . from us?’ Vixen whispered.

  ‘We can save him, surely?’ Friendly asked hopelessly. ‘We’re not too late?’

  ‘I fear . . . the worst,’ Whisper muttered.

  Bold’s family looked stunned. To have received such unexpected good news and then for their hopes to be dashed almost at the same moment was awful. Vixen made the first move to go.

  ‘Whisper – you will come with us?’ Charmer asked.

  Whisper looked away, into the distance, as if she were picturing Bold as he now might be. She drew a deep breath. ‘No,’ she answered at last, in a low voice. ‘I don’t think I could bear it.’

  Charmer hung her head, sensing, but not wishing to see, her anguish.

  ‘We must trust that we can bring you good news,’ Fox said, much moved.

  Vixen led her family away in the direction of the Park’s boundary fence. Whisper stood to watch them, unmoving. Then, with a toss of her head, she turned to finish preparing her earth.

  Outside the Reserve the four animals divided, the two foxes taking one course; the two vixens, another. It was a black, cloud-covered night and, for the two young beasts, Friendly and Charmer, quite an adventure. Neither of them had ever been beyond the Park’s bounds, and each kept close to its parent. Fox and Vixen knew the terrain from of old and began systematically to comb the area. The hours of darkness passed with no clue found.

  Charmer watched the grey dawn break with misgiving. ‘Should we remain here to be seen?’ she asked her mother nervously. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to return home until the next night?’

  Vixen nuzzled her gently. ‘I understand your fear,’ she answered. ‘But there will be no danger if we are careful. We can’t afford to lose many hours in idleness.’

  Friendly was experiencing the same qualms but preferred not to let his father know.

  The early morning li
ght took on a pearly quality as the birds began to sing in greater and greater numbers. One solitary bird saw Vixen and Charmer and wondered at their activity. As he wheeled on the wing in search of his breakfast he saw the other two foxes behaving in the same busy manner. Ignoring his empty stomach, Robber alighted on a branch and pondered. The more he pondered, the more he became convinced that he knew who the animals must be and what they were doing. He croaked to himself, wondering if he should become involved. He was not sure of Bold’s wishes. And yet, and yet . . . if one of these animals was the Farthing Wood Fox, he, and he alone of all the creatures around, had the chance of reuniting father and son. He hopped up and down the branch in his anxiety. If he did nothing, they might never meet again – or, worse still, the meeting might be too late . . . He simply couldn’t allow such a sad event to happen when he might be the one means of preventing it. He ‘cawed’ twice to steel himself and flew down towards Fox and Friendly.

  The animals looked up but paid him no attention. A crow was a commonplace enough sight, even in the Reserve.

  Robber croaked nervously. ‘Er – er – are you searching for someone?’ he asked with awkwardness.

  Fox looked at the bird in surprise. For a moment he said nothing. Then, ever cautious, he answered: ‘Who are you, that you ask such a question?’

  ‘A friend, I hope,’ Robber muttered, still very much in awe of the Fox. ‘I think I may be able to help you.’

  ‘Do you have a message for us?’ asked Friendly.

  ‘No. But I must identify myself,’ Robber pulled himself together. ‘I am called Robber by my friend the fox – the one whom I think you must be seeking?’

  ‘Ah!’ Fox and Friendly exchanged glances.

  ‘You are the Farthing Wood Fox?’ Robber asked the senior animal.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I can help you. I can take you to Bold.’

  ‘Do so,’ Fox answered at once. ‘We shall learn your history later.’

  Robber signified the direction. ‘You must run fast,’ he said. ‘I’ll point out the way. You’ve still quite a distance to cover.’ He took to the air. The two foxes ran underneath his flight path. Robber led them to where Vixen and Charmer were located and kept flying on, leaving the explanations to the foxes. He dipped and turned once to make sure they were following. The four animals were running as hard as they could. Robber kept on to the birch spinney.

  Only a metre or two away from the great log, Bold lay amongst the sprouting grass and the remains of the winter’s dead leaves. He was in no pain now. He felt calm. He had no desires. He was now too weak to move and he knew he would die where he lay. He saw Robber alight close by on a birch sapling and was glad. Despite his decision, he was glad he would not die entirely alone. He closed his eyes gratefully.

  When he next opened them he saw, as through a mist, four familiar and beloved shapes and faces. He blinked slowly, thinking he was a cub again back in White Deer Park. Vixen came forward, sniffed, and nuzzled him with a very real tenderness. Bold blinked again.

  ‘You’re alone no longer,’ Vixen whispered, ‘my brave, bold cub. We will stay with you.’

  A feeling of peace – almost of happiness – engulfed the stricken animal. He saw his father and his brother and sister cubs. ‘Is Whisper . . .’ Bold tried hard to speak.

  ‘Whisper is well,’ Vixen said soothingly. ‘Rest now. She will soon be a mother and we shall keep watch for her and bring food for her when necessary.’

  Now Fox came closer. ‘Your cubs will be fine, sturdy youngsters, Bold, with you for a father. My, what a stout, plucky cub you were!’ Then he lowered his voice so that only Bold could hear his words. Not even Vixen overheard. ‘You are a courageous animal,’ he said, ‘and your adventures will be remembered as long as mine. I’m proud to be your father.’

  A sigh escaped Bold’s parted lips. He felt a sense of release. All had not been in vain. He looked joyfully towards the black, watchful figure in the birch tree, and prepared to leave, at last, the real world.

  Epilogue

  In the spring Whisper’s cubs were born. There were four of them – two male and two female. Charmer produced her litter, too, and so the blood of the Farthing Wood Fox renewed itself in the third generation. But Whisper had another reason to be proud, for in her cub’s veins was mingled also the blood of Bold, her chosen mate. Only now could her regret at losing him be effaced by seeing his image reproduced in her offspring. As her cubs would mature and grow up, it would be Bold’s history they would hear as they nestled around her in their earth. They would remember the father they would never know as the heroic creature she believed him to be, who had sacrificed himself for their well-being.

  Robber came to tell her he had found a mate and, before he bade her farewell, they reminisced a little. They talked of Bold, and of their adventures, and remembered Rollo. They parted with affection.

  And Whisper was never to feel lonely. Apart from Bold’s family, there were new friends to be made all the time – Bold’s friends and his father’s friends from their old home. She soon learned that life in White Deer Park was quite unlike her previous existence.

  Two months passed; her cubs gambolled in the sun and grew bigger and stronger and learnt how to hunt. One night Whisper’s special friend – Charmer – came to talk. They lay on the ground by Whisper’s bolt-hole, watching Tawny Owl swooping silently through the summer evening.

  ‘My cubs wanted to know what’s outside the Park,’ Whisper remarked. ‘I tried to explain but couldn’t find the right words. I have to find a way of justifying their father’s actions without persuading them to copy him.’

  ‘This Park can be a paradise,’ Charmer said. ‘That’s what they should learn.’

  ‘I’ve learnt it,’ Whisper answered. ‘There are creatures here on the best of terms who would be tearing each other to pieces anywhere else.’

  ‘It’s a friendship that’s rooted in the old Oath and worth preserving,’ Charmer said.

  ‘And a means of persuasion, perhaps, for any animal who might develop itchy feet,’ Whisper added.

  ‘I think you and I between us, Whisper, can find a more telling cure for that problem,’ said Charmer humorously. ‘When our cubs are a little bigger they must be encouraged to mingle. And the rest can be left to Mother Nature!’

  About the Author

  Colin Dann was born in Richmond, Surrey. His interest in natural history was fostered by studying the local wildlife in Richmond Park, and wildlife success came at the age of ten, when he won a London Schools Essay Competition set by the RSPCA. His prize was a copy of The Wind in the Willows. For many years he worked for Collins, the publishers. It was during this period that his concern for conservation led him to write his first novel, The Animals of Farthing Wood, which won the Arts Council National Award for Children’s Literature in 1980.

  Colin has since published seven further books in his Farthing Wood/White Deer Park sequence: In the Grip of Winter (1981), Fox’s Feud (1982), The Fox Cub Bold (1983), The Siege of White Deer Park (1985), In the Path of the Storm (1989), Battle for the Park (1992) and Farthing Wood – The Adventure Begins (1994). These stories were made into a highly successful animation series for the BBC. Other titles by him include The Ram of Sweetriver (1986), The Beach Dogs (1988), Just Nuffin (1989), A Great Escape (1990), A Legacy of Ghosts (1991) and the City Cats trilogy, King of the Vagabonds (1987), The City Cats (1991) and Copycat (1997).

  Also by Colin Dann

  The Animals of Farthing Wood

  In the Grip of Winter

  Fox’s Feud

  THE FOX CUB BOLD

  AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 446 47895 0

  Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,

  an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK

  A Penguin Random House Company

  This ebook edition published 2011

  Copyright © Colin Dann, 2011

  Illustrations © Hutchinson Publishing Group, 2011

 
; First Published in Great Britain

  Red Fox 9780099375203 2011

  The right of Colin Dann to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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