Chase Maverick's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Chase set off into the woods with his dog at his heels. The fire at home burned down by the minute. He had no batter and no idea where the winged fox had flown. But he knew one thing. If he found its nest, he might find his bowl. He scanned the trees for any sign of the thief. He pushed through brush until the ground opened onto a pond. The water sat dark and smooth. A few ducks glided across it. Fish leaped above the ripples and splashed back down. Chase crouched at the edge and watched for a red streak in the sky. Nothing. His dog lapped at the water, then lifted his head and stared past the far bank. A cluster of bluebirds burst from a low branch. They wheeled up all at once, panicked, and scattered over the pond. Something had spooked them. Chase followed their line of flight and saw it. The crimson fox cut above the treetops, batter bowl clamped in its jaws. The birds had flushed at its shadow. "There," Chase said. He ran. The fox dropped toward a giant tree on the slope above the pond. Its trunk twisted like a rope toward the sky. At its base, a stone arch framed a dark cave mouth. The fox folded its wings and slipped inside with the bowl. Chase stopped at the arch, breathing hard. He had found the nest. He grinned and stepped in. The cave smelled of smoke and rot. His eyes adjusted. On a ledge of roots and bone, the fox hunched over his bowl. It had already tipped the batter onto the stone and lapped most of it up. The bowl lay empty on its side. "No," Chase said. "Come on." The fox snarled and spread its wings wide. It lunged. Chase threw up his arm. Claws raked his sleeve and tore the cloth. He stumbled back toward the arch. The dog shot past him, barking, and snapped at the creature's tail. The fox shrieked and beat its wings. It swept over their heads and out the cave mouth, gone into the trees. Chase picked up the empty bowl. He turned it over. A thin smear of batter clung to the rim, dried and useless. He had chased the thief to its home and lost the batter for good. But he stood in the cave now, and he looked around it. Dried berries lay heaped in a corner. Cracked nuts. A clutch of pale eggs tucked into the roots. The fox had been stealing from the whole valley, not just from him. Chase crouched by the eggs and lifted one. It was warm and whole. "You took mine," he said. "I'll take yours." He loaded eggs and berries into his torn shirt. His batter was gone, but he walked out with ingredients. The fire might still be hot. He ran back down the slope toward home, his dog ahead of him, and the race against the dying flame began again.