Foxheart

Chapter Two

When Esme was roaming Lakeside in the hot afternoon, Reynard Todd, a.k.a The Fox, was having an afternoon nap. He lay naked beneath a white sheet on his lumpy bed, sticky and much too warm as he listened vaguely to the sounds of life that was dragged in by the gentle wind through the open window. Cars roared by, horses snorted, children screamed, women gossiped, shoes clicked, dogs barked. The city was very much alive on this hot day. While the city-life was soothing, Fox wasn't appreciating the argument above his basement room though. He could hear his neighbours screeching at each other, swearing and the woman was declaring her mother was right about the good for nothing husband. He didn't know what it was over, last week it had been about his drinking, before that money, so it could be anything but he wished they'd stop already. He wanted to sleep deeply on this hot day before he'd go out drinking when it was cooler.

The neighbours weren't the only ones against him sleeping though. At the open window, hidden below the edge, came a young voice.

'Fo-o-ox! Fox, got a letter!'

Fox instantly recognised the voice and his eyes shot open, revealing a deep green gaze. He shot up, dragging the sheet around his waist and plodded over the cluttered, tiny room. He leaned over the edge to see Ronald there, an urichin boy of eight. He grinned his gapped-tooth smile.

'What does she want now?'

'I dunno. Jus' told me to bring you this.' He held up the letter. 'Elenore also told me to tell you you're a moron. She wants to see you today.'

Fox raised his eyebrows. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Wants to know why you haven't visited her this week.'

'Been busy.' He responded vaguely.

Fox took the letter offered to him, ripped it open and read the contents. It wasn't much, just the haggard Doe demanding his presence. He sighed and scrunched up the letter before handing Ronald a few copper pieces.

'Thanks. I'll be over soon.'

Ronald bobbed his head before he tore away, clambering up the old cracked steps and vanishing down the road. Fox slammed the windows shut, turning the key to keep them locked, then began to find clothes amongst the mess in his room. It wasn't going to be easy. The sink was full of washing-up, the books piled up on the small table instead of tidied away on the shelves, his cupboard was wide open with clothes spilling out and the dirty pile he kept telling himself to clean was beside a now cobwebbed ironing board and his un-cleaned bathtub.

He managed to find a clean pair of underwear on his bed, a shirt on his old battered armchair surrounded by bottles of empty beers and some faded green trousers with braces beneath some of the books. He managed to get himself dressed and shove his bare feet into massive black boots before he made his way over to the stove. Stuffing the letter inside, he dumped a few pages of the local newspaper inside with it and lit a match, setting it alight. All letters had to be burned. No evidence of contact left. That was the rule.

Ignoring the brown patched jacket the dangled sadly from its hook, knowing full well it was too hot for it to be worn, Fox grabbed the flat cap and pulled it over his vibrant red hair. He hadn't bothered to brush it or the bushy side-burns. It was just the Doe.

Happy his cramped room was secure, Fox exited the room, slamming the door behind him and locking it firmly. He glanced down the corridor, wondering if the young blond he'd had his eye on was about but she wasn't. Her room was closed firmly. Elenore was going to laugh then sock him when she found out wooing the neighbour was the reason he hadn't visited her in South Side. She detested being second in line. If she found out that was. He wasn't going to blab about it anyway. Shrugging, Fox left the apartment block, hopping up the steps and strode down the street.