CHICKEN COOP SIDE A

One night at the outskirts of a common farmer's home, a plan of revenge was being hatched. As the lights dimmed and the farmer went to sleep, a fox was laying in the fallen leaves of an old tree, hiding from sight. Tonight was the night that he will soon feel relief twofold: that of his growling stomach and his fragile mental state.

* * *

It was not so long ago when that 'common farmer' murdered his parents. His eyes were scarred, watching from the hollow tree trunk his parents hid him in, as his parents were burned alive in their hole. Everything he loved and cared for transformed into black ash. Silently, he cried even after the farmer had left. He stayed in that trunk, wallowing in his tears. Until it was safe to go out that he mourned the death of his mother and father, the other woodland creatures praying for him as they watched the horrid event.

As time went on, his sorrow grew into anger. Thanks to what his father had taught him when he was alive, he survived in the forest alone. The hollow trunk that he had cowardly stayed in had become his permanent home. His body grew as he hunted and ate fish. He caught the casual bird, if they ever decided to land on the ground. But as he hunted and slept, his mind only thought of one thing: the farmer.

His anger twisted into rage. Night after night, that day replayed in his mind. Sometimes, he was forced to watch his parents as their fur and skin melted to the ground. Sometimes, he ran as their bellowing screams filled the air. There were even times when the farmer would find him and tear his fur apart and use it for his rug. The nightmares were constant and every night he kept shaking it away, telling himself that it would never come to be. Not when he was still alive and kicking. So, what did he do?

He plotted, he strategized, he planned. It was time for payback.

Once he thought of planning for revenge, his mind went blank on what he would do. All he wanted simply was for the farmer to die. Actually, he wanted to burn the farmer and chew on his bones. However, reality always made him sink to the ground since he realized that was impossible. As fast as he was, the farmer would find ways to bait him, trap him and kill him. Either a trap or a rifle, that farmer was tricky. But foxes are even trickier. So, the fox did the next best thing: reconnaissance.

He gave himself three days. Only three. He wanted to do this as fast and as silent as possible. In each day passing, he watched the farmer's movements and activities. It was usually the same thing every day: cutting the wheat, harvesting the corn, tending the cows. Sometimes, he traveled and only came back at night. No. He wanted to do this while the farmer was here. It made no sense to plot a revenge plan without the main villain.

Staying at the forest edge where no one would see him, he gazed upon the farm itself searching for anything that was equal to killing the farmer. It was when he locked his eyes on a rather large circular fence close to the edge of the farm that his muzzle formed an evil smile. For within that fence held a bird. Not just any bird. No, sir. It held chickens. Lots and lots of chickens. It couldn't be more perfect. If you can't get to the farmer, then get to his food. He took note of when the farmers and his workers ended the day (just when the sun was setting) and watched as the lights were turned off at the farmer's home. It was there that the fox escaped from his hiding place and headed straight for his trunk deep in the forest. The gears in his head worked madly, his muzzle smiling evilly.

Tomorrow, his revenge would be sweet.

* * *

It was time. The day was coming to a close as the workers cleaned up and left. The wife began to call her husband and son in. He watched as the farmer's idiot of a son began to, unsuccessfully, get the chickens into their coop. When he was finally done, the sun was almost away as the farmer yelled for his son to get back in the house. As the moon came out to play, the lights in the farmer's home went out. It was then that the fox made his move.

He went straight for the chicken coop. Already diving into the plan, he started to dig a hole into the dirt when he noticed something odd about the wire fence. It was already cut through or mangled at least. The hole in the fence was small but it was enough for an adult fox to get through. He smiled warmly when he remembered his father and his late-night excursions hunting for food.

When he was young, his father had always left him and his mother late at night for an extra-special treat. Sometimes, he left too long and the young fox would cry for his father to come back. But when he did, his muzzle was full of fresh meat that they wouldn't go hungry for days. But it wasn't the food that excited his son, only the thought that his father would come back each night.

Now, the young fox had grown up and hunting his own meat. It was somewhat ironic that he was stealing from the same farmer that killed his parents. Like father, like son.

He fitted through the hole nicely. After getting his body through, the fox nimbly went into the chicken coop and was amazed. So many chickens. The beds went up as high as the ceiling. He soon realized that if he made one sound, his life as a rug would happen quickly. So, he padded softly through the row of chicken beds.

So many chickens, there were. His muzzle was drooling at the sight. Plump ones, thin ones, some as big as his tail. He soon found himself staring at a nice, well-rounded chicken sleeping soundly. Slowly, he went up to the chicken's neck and opened his jaw. He watched as the chicken slowly bobbed her head up and down as she snored. Just as her head went up one more time...CHOMP!!!!

The chicken's neck fit nicely in the fox's muzzle. His teeth then grabbed onto its jugular and tore the head off in a fury of blood and feathers. The head was tossed across the coop as the other chickens began to scream and wail. Quickly, the fox bit into the limp body of the chicken and bolted for the hole that his father made in the fence.

His ears twitched at the sound of the farmer opening his front door. The fox went for the hole but the chicken's body was too big. In haste, the fox pushed the body with all his might through the hole. It gave way as feathers and skin were torn off from the cut wires. The fox then ran for his trunk, extremely pleased with himself.

* * *

The farmer was tired and cold. He held his rifle steadily as he scanned the forest. There was no sign of that ghost of a fox. He figured he killed them all with that blasted fire. His idiot of a son behind him yawned loudly. "What are we looking for again, Pa?"

"Will you shut up!" The farmer screamed at him, "Keep talking and that damn fox won't be the only one hiding."

His son simply shrugged at that comment and walked a little aways. Unbeknownst to the farmer, the son had found a small trail of feathers leading somewhere. He smiled softly and messed up the trail with his foot. "Well, if you can't find him," his son said. "Can we go back inside? It's really cold out here." The farmer simply grunted at that remark but agreed and went back to his farmhouse. "You have to admit," the son added. "That is one fantastic fox."

"Shut up," the farmer said as they walked back.

Meanwhile, a young fox ate his spoils greedily in a hollow trunk not far from the farm, eager to do it again another time.

CHICKEN COOP SIDE B

Once upon a time, there were two families who lived across from each other. One family, two adult foxes and their cub, lived happily in the forest with all of the other animals, badgers, beavers, deer, birds and so on. The other family, two adult humans and their son, lived in an open field where they built a farm close to the forest. Both families did not bother each other for there was no need to. Until the foxes started to grow hungry.

Call it divine intervention or the natural order of things, but when the foxes were hungry something had to be done. So, one night, Kei, the adult male fox of the family, took off to the farmer's home and did what any starving father would to keep his family healthy: he stole food. It was only one chicken though, so there shouldn't have been a big issue. What mattered was that he kept his family healthy and safe. Wasn't that enough?

Well, the first chicken wasn't enough. Since Kei and his mate, Kaia, had a cub to support, they needed more food than they thought and the forest wasn't providing enough. So, Kei continued his thieving game with the farmers. He only stole once a week and at night so as to not rouse the farmers. Things were working well enough and their cub was happy and calm. What could go wrong?

However as the weeks rolled by, things started to change. The wooden fence that made it easy to get into the chicken coop was replaced with wire. The ground near the fox's home was littered with traps. Kei realized what this meant. The farmer knew. Things were not looking so good. However, Kei, instead of backing down, grew more cunning. He continued to steal chickens from the farmer, weaving through the traps and even cutting a hole through the wire fence that was small enough for him to get through but not noticeable enough for anyone to take interest. No matter what happened, he would still be there for his family even if it meant risking his life.

The weeks were going by again, same as normal. The foxes were comfortable and happy with themselves. Until that day happened. They were napping as the morning sun rose up to greet them. Kei heard it first. Then Kaia. Footsteps. A metal clanking of some sort. The farmer found them, or was at least trying to find them. Kei told his mate to hide their cub while he would chase the farmer. Kaia rushed to put their cub in a hollow tree trunk far enough from their hole. Then gunshots. Kaia rushed back to their home to find her mate stuck in the back, bleeding. She whimpered softly and licked his wound but to no avail. The farmer had found them. Everything that happened afterwards was just a blur.

When I woke up in the tree that afternoon, I knew something was wrong. It didn't take me long to catch my parent's scent and find that our home was nothing but ash. I sat there, a pool of tears growing at my feet, calling for them. There was no answer. My body shook and shivered with pain. My parents were gone. It took me a while to digest that. I was alone and they weren't coming back.

So, I did what I could. I survived by my father's lessons and I took my revenge against the farmer. But then something happened. Something that neither myself nor the farmers would've ever expected to happen.

My name is Kit and this is my story.

* * *

I was in perpetual bliss chewing away at that chicken. Swatting birds or hunting for fish was never enough to satisfy me. Each bite I took made my belly feel outrageously full but I continued to eat. I may have been eating too fast but I wanted to savor the moment.

My ears perked up when I heard the farmer and his son walking through the forest, their silence destroyed by the leaves crushed under their feet. I didn't care. I chewed away but kept my ears perked up to hear whatever they were trying to say. Although that was nearly impossible since the sound of bones crunching between my teeth was enough to mute out anything. The only word I caught stopped me for a moment. “Fantastic", one of them said. I grinned toothily and continued to eat. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

The next morning, I was feeling crazy. My plan was already in motion and it started when the farmer left for his daily routine. I decided something while chewing through that chicken. If I really wanted to make a difference and avenge my family, I need to do more than steal chickens. I need to make him believe that my parents are back from the dead. That they are here to take back their lives. Frankly, I'm going to scare the wits out of him.

So, After the farmer leaves, I take my chance. I run back to the farm and get to the house. I look around the back for an opening under the house and sure enough, there is one. The space is small and a little bit cramped but I settle myself and begin to a dig out a space for myself. When I get more comfortable in my little dirt hole, I begin to plan out my moves.

I start out small. Everyday, I steal things no one would notice: a pail here, a garden shovel there. Things that anyone can easily lose. I watch the farmer's reactions and snicker when he starts to notice things are gone. I go a bit bigger. A shoe outside of the house that someone left, a misplaced key. Everything I steal, I gather underneath the house. I am as stealthy as possible, making sure that I don't leave any tracks behind.

One night, I listen to the farmer as he is having dinner with his family. “Have you seen my milk pail?", he says.

I hear a female voice answer him, probably his wife. “No. It's usually in the barn. Did you lose it?" she asks nonchalantly.

The farmer huffs in frustration. “I checked the barn! Pails don't suddenly grow legs. Someone's stealing from me." My muzzle holds back a snicker. My plan is coming along.

Suddenly, I hear another voice, young but just as male as the farmer. It was his son. “There's no one around for miles. How can anyone steal from us?" he speaks. He says somewhat defiantly but keeps his voice down.

I hear the farmer huff again and that only makes me laugh. He's angry now? Just wait.

The next few weeks, I start to get risky. I know my father would not like me doing something like this but it's for him. It's for my mom. My family. Isn't it? I let that thought ponder as I continue to steal from the farmer.

This time, I try my paw at getting inside the house when no one is looking. It's tough since the farmer's son and wife are inside nearly all the time but I managed to get in just once without anyone noticing. I pad briskly through the house, catching the farmer's scent and finding his room. I find a shirt, freshly pressed and smelling nicely, hanging on the open windowsill. My muzzle grins a toothy grin as I jump at the shirt and grab it with my teeth. I jump out of the window and head back to my hiding spot, the shirt dragging in the dirt behind me. That night, the farmer is angrier than usual when he finds the shirt gone. I laugh again, rolling in the fresh scent of the shirt, making it my bed. My fears of being caught subside as I continue to steal throughout the house. A spatula, knitting needles, a book. I even get a chance to steal a freshly-made pie that the wife made for dessert (tasty blueberry).

Every steal I make, I think of my father. I wonder if he would be proud of me and my thieving skills. I have actually grown much from doing this. I enjoy the idea that I might be as good a thief as my father, possibly even better. Would it matter if I'm risking my life because of it? Don't the best thieves take great risks? That's all part of the game, isn't it? I look at my trove and feel somewhat guilty. What was I really doing this for? Revenge or for fun? Am I actually avenging my parent's death or insulting them by risking my life?

The farmer and his family sit down again for dinner and I can tell the farmer is a bit more crazed then usual. “We're not alone on this farm," he growls.

The wife just dismisses it but the son starts to talk. “What do you think is stealing from us?"

The farmer huffs. “It's those foxes."

“Foxes?" The son is quizzical but there's something else in his voice I can't place. “You mean the ones you killed? Now, you're superstitious."

The farmer pounds the table. “It has to be them! What else could it be?" That makes me want to do something I didn't think I would do. If this is really about revenge, then it's time to meet my enemy head on. I get out of my hiding spot and find an open space inside the house. I pad quietly through the small house, still listening to the conversation. “It's like-it's ghosts or something! They've come back to life and are out to get me." I snicker at that.

“Or maybe it's something else," the son says. “I don't think foxes would have a vendetta against you." The son spots me as I get myself read to pounce the farmer. A faint grin appears on his lips. “Maybe, you missed one?"

The farmer laughs. “Missed one? That was all of them! Those stupid animals deserved to die!" My fur stands on end at that.

I then do the impossible. I pounce on the farmer's head. Everyone jumps up, the wife screaming while the son backs away. I got a good grip on the farmer, clawing off whatever hair is on his head. He yells in pain, feeling my claws dig through his skin. He's able to push me off onto the floor but I recover quickly and run out. I hear a familiar metal clanking sound as I run toward the chicken coop. An explosion of dirt stops me completely. I turn around to face my enemy and sit still.

His rifle is aimed squarely at me. His head is bloody and his eyes are crazed. I know what's going to happen next. “I shoulda figured they had a kid," the farmer spits. “Another apple about to ripped off the damn tree!" I close my eyes waiting for the inevitable blow.

A shot is fired but I don't feel anything. I open my eyes to find his son pushing the gun away. The farmer is confused as well as I am. The farmer then speaks. “Why?"

“Because you deserved it!" The son yells. “It's because of you that this fox doesn't have a home anymore. It's because of you that his parents are dead. What did you think was going to happen?!" The farmer drops the rifle to his side, listening to his son. “You don't care about this fox, I know. But you have to understand the repercussions of taking away someone's family."

“B-but this is…" The farmer tries to speak but the son retaliates.

“Yes, they are just animals but so are we. We are no different than them," he points to me. “This fox was just trying to survive. As we all are. So just leave him alone and he will leave us alone."

The farmer simply stares at me, then at his son. He sighs. “You're right. I'm sorry. The chickens…I didn't realize…" He looks at me. “I'm sorry."

I don't know what to do except to run. I go as fast as I can, back to my trunk. I actually survived the farmer and his family, besides all of the things I've done. My father would've been proud, I think. I did something I don't think anyone could have done. Being the animal that I am, I stood up against my enemy.

A few days after the great even, the traps were gone and the wire fence around the chicken coop disappeared. The farmer never came back to the forest and I never went back to his farm. Both of us were content in ourselves. We were even.