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Richard crept quietly into his daughter's room, her little sniffling cries having woken him. Closing the door softly behind him, trying not to make a sound, he jumped as the latch clicked back into place. He could see the little whimpering ball that she made under her covers, which were illuminated by the blueish glow of her nightlight; they were covered in dancing mice, each one's tail held up behind itself as they scurried along.

"Papa?" The little voice murmured sleepily from under the blankets, and punctuated the sentence with a snuffling cough. "Yes, sugar, I'm here," Richard whispered back as he crouched down by the bed. With a little whimper, the reply came, "Papa, I had a bad dream." The ball under the blankets shivered again, and seemed to curl up a bit tighter. Richard hissed a comforting "Shhh..." through his front teeth, and drew up one of her little stools so that he could sit comfortably by the bed. "Papa.. can you tell me a story?" the cub murmured, with a whining sigh. "Of course, sweetie," Richard replied, and began with a typical entrance.

"Hmm.. so, once upon a time.." he faltered, and had to think for a moment. Jenny, (for that was his daughter's name), poked her nose out from the covers to nuzzle his paw, resting on her bed. "Hrm... Once upon a time, there was a lovely little fox who lived in a burrow, under a wheat field. Every morning, he used to go down to the stream to wash himself from the night's hunt. Most days when he went there he was alone, but one day.. " Richard paused for effect. "One day, after a spring rain, when he wandered down to the cool waters, there were strange footprints in the mud."

The little cub smiled, and gradually inched her nose further out from the blankets. "I like this story already," she whispered. Richard lifted his paw and replaced it on the blanket, around where he supposed his daughter's own would be, before he continued.

"He sniffed around, as foxes are wont to do, and came across a scent that he'd never smelled before. It wasn't the deer, who he kept away from. Nor was it the children from the village, who sometimes came down to fish for minnows. No, this was different, but familiar.. almost like he'd smelled it somewhere already. Still, the fox knew that if any real threat came into his area, they would find him first. It was probably just a stray having a drink or something of the sort. He shrugged his shoulders, (as best he could. He was a fox, after all), got himself cleaned up, and retired to his den to sleep." Here, Richard paused, and lowered his head to rest by Jenny's pillow. It was late in the night, and he needed to be at work early in the morning. Still, it would be worth it if his daughter had a good night's sleep.

The elder lion drew back his daughter's coverlet, exposing her tousled hair and perked-up ears that were listening quietly to the story. "Dreaming his nice foxy dreams, he wouldn't have known that the maker of those strange pawprints lurked outside his den for a moment, sniffing at his scent, before going on its way again.. except for the fact that the stranger stepped on the dry bracken outside the narrow entrance of it, and his ears at once perked up, even before he was awake!"

Richard slipped a paw under the coverlet, his cub's paws grabbing at it and holding it to her chest as he continued with the story. "He was on his paws in an instant, sprinting to the entrance of his den, even as the shadow disappeared into the thick wall of wheat that marked the farmer's domain. The fox wouldn't go in there, not after that incident with the farmer's gun and dog. He shivered, not wanting to relive that memory in a hurry." Jenny shivered a little, letting out a whimpering growl, having been roused from half-sleep by this mention of harm to the fox. Reasurring her, though, the male scratched gently at her chest.

"The fox stood, listening, just barely able to hear the rustle of the intruder retreating through the wheat. Then the noise was out of his range, and he stood just a moment longer to make sure it was gone, before walking slowly back to his den. Safely back inside, he curled up and went back into dreamland for the previous few hours rest he had before dusk fell. When it did, and evening had settled, he arose and crept back into the dark, his nose alert for signs of prey, or the stranger." Richard's deep voice rose and fell in soothing rhythm, easing his daughter back to the sleepy state.

"There was a sudden rustle to his left, and he immediately crouched down on his haunches. It was a rabbit, out late to catch the new spring shoots. The fox lay as low to the ground as he could, staying still so that the bunny didn't catch even a hint of his position. He inched slowly forward, stopping dead every time it looked up, and not taking his gaze off it." Here, Jenny's heartbeat quickened a little, her tiny ears perked up to listen to what would happen. Her father looked at her fondly, and tried to make the next part of the story as easy on her as possible, saying, "Finally, when it lowered its head to graze one final time, he pounced, and broke its neck quickly. It made these things easier for him and the rabbit."

A soft sigh came from the cub's mouth, and Richard squeezed his paw in her chestfur gently. "See, it's okay.. " he murmured softly. "The fox took the rabbit, its body lolling in his mouth, down to his favourite spot by the stream, where he could wash his paws clean as soon as he was finished. He sat in the soft grass beside the water, eating unhurriedly, and then decided that here was as good a place as any for a quiet nap."

"The warmth and fullness in his belly, caused by his meal, had the unfortunate side-effect of making the fox more sleepy than he'd thought he was." The father nudged his daughter with his nose, making her giggle a little. "Just like you will, miss, if you don't get to sleep soon,he overslept, snoozing right past the time when he would usually wander back to his den. Awaking underneath a tall oak, he got quickly to his feet as he again scented that almost-familiar smell."

In her drowsy state, Jenny could almost believe that she was right alongside the fox, and even took a little sniff, making Richard smile before he went on. "He padded silently down to the edge of the water, his nose to the ground as he picked up the scent, and began to follow it along the stream, he ears laid back flat against his head. As he turned a corner, the scent became stronger, and he entered a copse of tall cedars. There, underneath the roots of a young one, was a hole; newly-dug, the dirt not yet compressed, with those same pawprints that he had seen before. Deciding to stay around to wait for the owner of those prints, he settled himself under a low bush."

"Mmnf, daddy, what's going to happen?" Jenny mumbled sleepily, her little arms curling around his larger paw and holding it tight to her chest. "It's okay, sugar. Just listen," her father said. "It was nearing the middle of the day, the heat definitely rising, and the fox was starting to want to be back in his den. His curiosity got the better of him, though. He stayed there, through hours of midday heat, until finally he heard movement."

"Daddy, I'm scared!" came a more panicked cry from the cub, but Richard just scratched her chest soothingly and whispered, "Listen, darling." The cub's whole body was tense. "There were light pawpadding sounds, and a quick streak of colour moved between the cedars. It lingered around the entrance to that den, sniffed briefly, then nudged its head inside, disappearing with a flick of reddish brushtail. Now he knew what that almost-familiar scent was. Vixen."

A soft "Ohh.." escaped from Jenny's lips, and Richard barely had time to pause for a smile before she was telling him authoritatively to keep going. "The fox had never had a female on his turf before. They tended to live in the more secluded woodland areas, away from the farms, so that they could raise kits in relative peace. From what he had glimpsed of her, she was quite young, may not have even had her first litter yet. He thought about all this as he first checked that the coast was clear, and then stood and retreated back to his own den."

"I like this story again, papa," the little one said, her heartbeat slowing down, and her father leaned over to brush his tongue fondly between her ears. "I'm glad, my dear. At this point, though, the fox was feeling quite tired.. he had been up half the day watching and waiting for this new vixen, and he desperately needed the few hours sleep he could get before nightfall. He retired, happily, to his cosy den and dreamt for a while, his mind filled with thoughts of the new companion on his turf. Just like you will be soon, won't you, honey?" Jenny nodded sleepily.

"Just a little more, then, shall I? As darkness settled over the little wooded area, the fox arose again, this time his mind set on one thing. The hunt was quick this time, the prey quickly done away with. Again, he took it in his mouth, but this time to the copse of cedars, where he stalled for a moment, then gingerly poked his nose into the vixen's den." Richard started to gently withdraw his paw from his daughter's clutches, and his voice began to be more deep and vibrant, lulling her into slumber.

"He crept down the slight decline, the tunnel almost too narrow for his larger build, and into the hollowed-out sleeping space. She raised her head, looked at him solemnly, and he bowed his own," the lion murmured, pulling the coverlet up over his daughter's shoulder where it had been disturbed.

"Setting the rabbit in front of her, just beside her paws, he silently sat back on his haunches. She took it in her mouth, took a careful, dainty bite, and then nosed the rest of the kill back behind her, where there sat three small, cautious balls of kit. As much as a fox could, he smiled." Without making a sound, the father stood and pushed the stool he had sat on back into place, and gave one last smooth to the blanket.

Standing in her doorway, he looked at her sleeping form and couldn't stop the smile from creeping over his lips. He opened the door, glaring into the hallway light that he had left on, and then stepped out of her room. He hoped that the gift he had given her would stay in her mind. The triangle of light cast onto her carpet narrowed, softened, and then disappeared. The door closed with a final click.

The morning light refracted through the glass of water that Richard had left, half full, on his bedside table. It cast rainbows that painted his chest. The colours lay still, undisturbed by any rise or fall, and unnoticed by the cub who tugged desperately at his arm.