Scout Emerson's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Scout Emerson pressed her forehead to the kitchen window and watched the brook run past the yard she was not allowed to leave. She was ten, and her mother had drawn the fence line at the willow stump for as long as Scout could remember. Past the stump, the woods darkened fast. That was where her friends said the blue fox lived. They had seen it at the shallow bend last week, a small thing with fur the color of deep water, and they swore it changed shape when you weren't looking straight at it. Scout had asked her mother three times if she could go. Her mother had said no three times. Scout kept a jar of dried berries in her coat pocket anyway. This morning her mother drove into town for feed and left Scout with a list of chores and a warning about the stove. Scout finished the chores in an hour. Then she stood at the back door with the jar in her fist and counted to ten. She walked past the willow stump. The brook was louder here, and the moss gave under her boots. At the shallow bend she crouched behind a fallen log and waited. Nothing came for a long time. She was about to turn back when something drank from the water on the far bank. It had blue fur and a white chest and eyes too large for its face. It looked up and met her stare without flinching. Scout held out a berry on her flat palm. The fox watched her for a full minute. Then it stepped into the brook, crossed to her side, and took the berry from her hand. Its nose was cold. Its fur, when it brushed her wrist, felt like nothing she had ever touched. She reached for it slowly. The fox slipped back a step, turned, and vanished into the ferns. Scout stayed crouched by the log until her knees ached. She was late getting home, and her boots were soaked past the ankle, and she knew already that she would come back tomorrow.