Fable of Love
The wind howled all day, and by evening, heavy snow began to fall. He and she were two foxes. He had once been a fox king, large, strong, with sharp, bright eyes, and powerful teeth and claws. She was petite, with a black mouth and always smiling eyes. His style was like a mountain, and hers was like water. They had depended on each other, living together for eight years. To him, being with her was happiness.
As the sky darkened, they wanted to find food to fill their stomachs and wandered in the forest for a long time. The snow had turned everything white, covering the ground with a thick blanket. Finding no food, they headed toward a village with faint lights.
A muffled thud suddenly echoed from beneath them. He vanished from her sight, revealing a hole in front of her. He was momentarily unconscious but quickly woke up and understood his situation. He had fallen into a dry well. He let out a long howl to warn her not to come closer. She heard a confident deep breath from the well, followed by two sharp scratching sounds and then a heavy thud. He had leaped over ten feet high but was still far from the well’s edge.
She lay on the well’s edge, first sobbing and then wailing. She wanted to get him some food so that he would gain enough strength to jump out. She disappeared into the forest. He busily clawed at the frozen soil on the well’s wall, collecting it to stand on. His paws were completely split open, blood continuously oozing out.
Just then, a hunter followed their tracks in the snow and discovered him in the well. The hunter shot his leg, causing him to fall and unable to stand up. The hunter didn’t intend to kill him; he knew that leaving him alive would lure his companion back, promising a double reward.
She returned after sunset but heard his howls warning her to stay away before she reached the well. She howled back, asking what had happened.
The hunter, waiting nearby, was puzzled by the calling foxes without seeing the female. His confusion didn’t last long. She appeared, running like the wind. Before the hunter could react, she dropped a squirrel into the well and quickly fled. She thought, as long as she was alive, he had hope. When the gunshot rang out, she had already vanished into the vast forest.
At the sound of the gunshot, he let out a long, angry, heart-wrenching howl from the dry well.
At dawn, the hunter dozed off. She appeared by the well, whimpering sharply, encouraging him to hold on. As long as he had a breath left, she would rescue him from the well.
In the following days, she kept evading the hunter. He shot at her nine times but missed each time. On the fourth morning, the howling suddenly stopped. The hunter looked into the well and saw that the male fox had died, his head crushed against the well wall. He understood that if things continued, she would eventually die from the hunter’s bullets. His death was to save her.
The hunter thought the female fox wouldn’t return. He decided to fetch a rope from the village to retrieve the male fox. He hadn’t gone far when he saw her standing there, her golden fur bloodied and covered in wounds. Exhausted and shattered, her fur billowed in the cold wind, giving her an ethereal appearance like a classic forest spirit. She lifted her chin slightly, seemingly sighing, then swiftly ran to the well. The gunshot echoed, and she fell into the well.
The hunter decided to retrieve their bodies after the storm cleared the next morning. That night, the wind and snow filled the dry well. By dawn, the ground was a pristine white, and the hunter couldn’t find the well no matter how hard he searched.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
