The Witch and the Fox
She saw him. She was very certain that it was him. It had been her express intention when seeding the flower beds with foxglove seeds. Her and Rose.
"Will the fox wear the foxgloves as gloves Celia?'
"Only if he is of the most noble and fashionable fox families." After scattering the rest of the seeds and double checking the security of the hen house the sisters went back to the house
to draw fashionable foxes.
The shades of them as girls shimmered in the bright Spring sun. Rose had been the one to grow tall and fashionable. She was long since married and only used her knowledge of the craft in the quiet hours, when her servants were gone or deeply asleep. She writes of it rarely in her long letters that somehow say so disappointingly little.
The fox threads its' way through a small forest of the ancestors planted all those years ago. His footing is as certain as any rogue. He shines in all of the colors of a violent sunset. If he understands I have summoned him he gives no sign. I am the one squatting awkward. I hardly feel capable of commanding a door mouse let alone this of all foxes. Which brings me back. to my purpose.
"Reginald the Trixter, I have called you here on this the day of the new moon." He stops and sits flicking his tail, the golden pollen catching the light around his bristling fur. His eyes are light and a bit indignant. He waits.
"There is a door mouse that has become bold with my kitchen garden. My herb garden is quit savaged." Its' ear twitched. "Out of the respect and gratitude I hold I will leave you eggs and a quarter of my meals once the task is complete." The smallest of sniffs, a nod and he was gone.
The next morning The mouse was left at my sill. I nod at the farthest mark of my garden almost catching the russet in the ivy.
My Tom cat wove infinity into my ankles. He has long been made useless by his grand belly caught by table scraps and not the small night thieves.
"If you proved yourself of use we would not have to bargain with the forest creatures." He purred in his non commitment and mewled twice until I picked up the heft of him. "I wonder if Rose will like to be reminded of our dear Reginald, or if she would like to be remembered to him." Tom gaveme a withering look. "There can be no true damage. She is
a respectably married woman now. The affair hardly ended badly. He was able
to become Prince of the Outer Woods and hold the form he was so very proud of, and she, well she must be some kind of content. She writes often of her pretty walled garden."