She stood and walked slowly, almost crept, to the window. She peeked out and saw what had made Samson so alert: A fox. Viola laughed. She noticed it was only a baby, it must have gotten lost. That must have been what she saw moving at the tree line earlier. The pup was trembling and looking up at her with big, intelligent green eyes. Slowly, Viola opened the door, stepping out onto the porch. The baby whined at her, looking sad. She thought for a moment. Maybe it's hungry. Viola tried to remember what a fox ate. Berries, she had that. She ran back inside to get some blueberries then returned to the porch. She placed some of the blueberries on the wood not two feet from her. The fox cocked its head and crept slowly toward the fruit, keeping a curious eye on her. As Viola watched, the little fox sniffed the berries warily then began to eat. She squatted and watched for a moment, noticing how it held its right paw close to its body. It must be hurt, she realized. Slowly, Viola reached out a hand to stroke the fox's pelt. The fox yipped softly but did not snap at or try to attack her. That fact gave her and idea. If it didn't react much to her touch, maybe it would let her . . . Drawing back slightly, she shook her head.. Only one way to find out. Slowly, Viola reached forward with the other hand, then gently, every so gently, she placed her hands under the small fox's torso and with extreme care, lifted it off the porch and cradled it to her chest. The only reaction the tiny animal gave was a short whimper at being away from the fruit. Shortly, it stopped and looked directly into her eyes. Its fur was a startlingly gorgeous fiery orange; Viola felt her ginger hair was a mere parody of the bright color. The fluffy tail was nearly larger than the fox itself. Viola stroked the velvety-soft fur and the fox flicked its tail happily. Holding the fox in one arm in a way so as not to harm the injured foreleg, she opened the front door and went into her house. Samson padded up to her and cocked his head. Viola patted his soft head and headed to the bathroom. She dug in the cabinets and pulled out some compression bandages. Sitting on the toilet with the fox in her lap, she gently straightened out the right leg and began to wrap the white strips around the injured area in order to keep the foreleg straight so it would heal faster. Trough the process, the small fox did not struggle against her, it sparsely even breathed. When she was done with the mending of the injured leg, she carried the fox back to the living room and set it gently on the couch.330Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgvLUME1DxA
Penana
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