I spotted her sitting on the side of the road just after sunrise, tucked into the damp grass like she was taking a quick break. I wasn’t following her, I just happened to catch her at the right moment. Her coat looked darker in places, a little clumped from pushing through wet fields while hunting for her young. Nothing dramatic, just the honest, early‑morning damp of a fox who’d already been busy for hours.
She glanced my way when I slowed down, calm and steady, not startled. It felt like she was deciding whether I was worth paying attention to or just another part of the morning. The light didn’t make her look magical; it just showed a mother who’d been working since before I even got there.
She didn’t stay long. One small shift, a quiet push to her feet, and she slipped back into the brush to keep hunting.
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