Fox's Feud (12 page)

On the night of Ranger’s altercation with Charmer’s family, the cub returned to find Scarface’s tribe gathered
to listen to their scion’s intentions. He slunk to the back of the group when his father was looking aside.

‘I can wait no longer,’ Scarface was saying. ‘These creatures are a threat to us all as long as they live. I intend to dispose of every one of them. We will attack them in the daylight hours when they are unguarded. It will be a swift attack, in full force, and those that are hidden will be searched out. I want complete destruction of every one of them, their homes and even their memory. I hope I am understood?’

No voice disputed.

‘It is arranged, then,’ pronounced Scarface with satisfaction. ‘In two days we will assemble here as the light breaks. Now go and strengthen yourselves for the struggle.’

As the group broke up, Ranger wandered off alone to think. His heart told him he should warn Charmer so that, if she felt as he did, at least the two of them could escape the battle, even if it should mean leaving the Reserve. Why
should
they suffer for their parents’ enmity? Only
their
lives mattered now. Ranger cared not a jot for Charmer’s brothers, nor for her father and mother, and he had no conception of their bonds with the other animals who had come with them to the Park. That was his first reaction. Yet he knew Charmer would never agree to desert her family. She would be less selfish for the future of the pair of them, even if she wished to be his mate. Then, what of his own family? He owed them some loyalty. Could he really be coward enough to run away as they fought for their existence? The more he thought, the more he returned to the same conclusion. Somehow he must prevent this battle.

It would be useless to try and change his father’s mind, even for the sake of unity in the Reserve. Scarface was
blinded by his hatred for Fox and his desire to be the undisputed authority over the Park’s inhabitants with the sole exception of the Great Stag. But what if he gave warning to Charmer to move her family to a place of safety? Yet, after recent events, would she still come to their meeting place or would she be forbidden? If she were not there the next night it would be too late to avoid the collision.

Daylight came and Ranger was still undecided. He felt that many lives might depend on his action, and the full weight of the realization bore down on him. At length he resolved to go that night to the meeting-place and, should Charmer not appear, he must once again go in search of her. Then, worn out with anxiety, he lay down and fell into an uneasy sleep.

It was dark when he awoke and Ranger at once set off in the hope of seeing Charmer. He was quite astonishingly hungry and any likely morsel that crossed his path was immediately snapped up. He was unaware that he had slept a very long time. When he reached the meeting-place and found Charmer was not there, he had no way of knowing that she had got tired of waiting for him and left.

Now Ranger waited, more and mote anxiously as time passed. Bitterly disappointed, he knew he would have to pluck up his courage and go deep into Charmer’s home area again. But he did not get so far on this occasion. A fox came out of the hawthorn thicket right in front of him, barring his way. It was his father.

‘Aha!’ said Scarface with a look of cunning. ‘Another one testing the lie of the land!’

Ranger was too taken aback to reply.

‘Good lad, good lad,’ his father went on, not unkindly. ‘I never knew you had it in you, Ranger. Up to your father’s old tricks, eh? Well, you shall be in the forefront with me tomorrow. We’ll teach them all a lesson, you and I. Come on, my boy. Kill me something – I’m starving. I’ve seen all I want to see for tonight.’

So Ranger was trapped into accompanying his parent back through the area he had just crossed. Even when he was lucky to flush out a partridge Scarface insisted he stay and share it with him. There was no escape. As a final resort, he tried to persuade his father to abandon the attack.

‘Must we continue to look upon ourselves as their enemies?’ he asked. ‘There will be pain and death on both sides.’

‘We can’t expect to emerge unscathed from a battle,’ came the reply. ‘My old face bears witness to that. But they
are
our enemies. Yes, a few will fall. But we shall prevail in the end.’

‘Why can’t we all live in harmony?’ Ranger tried again. ‘There is plenty of room in the Park for all. We need never come into contact with them.’

‘There
was
harmony until the Farthing Wood fox arrived with his conceited cronies,’ Scarface snapped. ‘But we were here first. The right is on our side.’

‘Surely we shall appear to be the aggressors if we attack them? Please, Father, is there no other way?’ Ranger begged.

‘No other way? Oh yes, we could surrender, I suppose,’ sneered Scarface. ‘I was wrong about you after all, I see. You’re the same cowardly milksop I took you for. Would that you were
his
offspring and his mine!’

Ranger’s spirits sank completely. It was hopeless. In despair, he thought of the morrow. Nothing could save those creatures now. But while there was blood still in his
body, he vowed that Charmer should come to no harm – even if it should mean fighting Scarface himself.

There was one factor in favour of the newcomers to White Deer Park, quite overlooked by Scarface, and that was Kestrel. Ever since the slaughter of Hare’s mate he had maintained his observation of the Park by day. High in the summer sky his piercing gaze detected movement around Scarface’s territory. He dropped height and found the foxes massing behind their leader. He waited no longer.

Swift as an arrow he sped to warn his friends. The first he saw was Rabbit who was nibbling clover with some of his kin. ‘Get down to your warren!’ screeched Kestrel. ‘There’s trouble coming!’

‘Is it Scarface?’ Rabbit called as his relatives bolted for their burrows.

‘Yes – no time to lose. Is Hare about?’

‘Haven’t seen him,’ Rabbit shouted over his shoulder as he scuttled for cover.

Kestrel flew on to Fox’s earth. Luckily he was lying in the sun near its entrance. ‘This is it!’ Kestrel warned him. ‘He’s coming in force.’

Fox leapt up. ‘Right, warn all you see to hide themselves. Come back to me later.’ Kestrel sped on, scanning the ground. Fox called to his family: ‘Quickly, all of you, off to Badger’s set. Tell him the reason and go deep down. I’ll follow.’

With Vixen leading the cubs to Badger’s safer home, Fox loped off to Weasel’s nest. In no time Weasel was following Fox’s family to the set. Leaving Kestrel to search for Hare and Leveret, Fox now thought of the voles and fieldmice. The little creatures might be safe enough in their holes but some could be wandering
abroad and, in any case, Fox did not want to risk their being dug out of their tunnels by the vindictive Scarface. He found Vole and broke the news.

‘Where are we to go?’ Vole shrieked in alarm.

‘Badger’s set,’ said Fox. ‘Waste no time. The enemy is on the move.’

‘But it’s a long way for tiny legs like ours,’ Vole squeaked.

‘Then start at once!’ Fox snapped impatiently. ‘You’ll be safer there, believe you me.’ He ran on to warn the fieldmice, who, fortunately, were a little closer to Badger’s home. On the way he shouted to a squirrel: ‘Get aloft, all of you, and don’t come down till I tell you!’

In the next few minutes, a small stream of mice were scurrying as fast as they could go in the wake of their larger friends. Fox paused, panting for breath. As he did so, he saw Whistler approaching. The heron had seen Scarface’s troop crossing the brook and had come at once.

‘Thanks, my friend,’ said Fox. ‘Find Tawny Owl and wake him up. We may need him. But stay well out of harm’s reach.’ Then he ran off to alert the hedgehogs.

Kestrel found him almost driving his spiny little friends before him in his anxiety to get them underground. Fox and the hawk compared notes. Hare and Leveret had been located and Kestrel had sent them to join their cousins in the rabbit warren.

‘I should have preferred us all to be under one roof,’ said Fox, ‘but there’s no time for that now. Have you seen anything of Toad or Adder?’

Kestrel shook his head.

‘Well, they’ll have to fend for themselves,’ Fox said hurriedly. ‘I dare say they’ll be safe enough.’ He stopped and cast about, as if mentally ticking off the animals one
by one. ‘H’m. All accounted for that can be, I think,’ he murmured. ‘Kestrel, you’ve probably saved the day. Owl and Whistler will be waiting for you. Now I must run.’

The last of the mice were entering Badger’s set as Fox came racing up. The hedgehogs had overtaken them and, in Badger’s deepest chamber, plunged in total darkness, Fox was greeted by his worried friends and family.

‘There’s one missing,’ Badger told him.

‘Who’s that?’

‘Mole.’

‘Oh well, he’s one we needn’t concern ourselves about,’ Fox replied. ‘He’s not likely to surface when he hears all those footsteps up above.’

The animals fell silent as they strained to catch a sound of the approaching marauders. Outside the set, Whistler and Tawny Owl were perched well out of sight in a lofty oak tree. But Kestrel had returned to his natural element – the sky – to watch the enemy.

Scarface, with Ranger and his other cubs alongside him, came cautiously into sight with the other foxes close behind. Everything was perfectly still and silent around them. The fox leader looked puzzled. He had intended to catch his rivals unawares; yet there was no sign of any movement of any sort. Surely some creatures would be about? Then he happened to look up and see Kestrel wheeling free across the blue expanse above them, and he understood.

A crafty grin stole over his fearsome features. He turned round to his followers. ‘My friends,’ he said softly, ‘it looks as though we have some digging to do.’

Ranger looked at his sire in alarm as he saw him directing his band to Fox’s earth. Now he must defend Charmer against whatever threat might face her. He ran ahead of the other foxes and reached the entrance first.
He heard Scarface’s dry chuckle behind him: ‘Oh, are you going to make up for your previous timidity by your eagerness now?’

He entered Fox’s den and at once picked out Charmer’s scent amongst the others that pervaded the place. He quickly emerged again. ‘It’s quite empty,’ he announced.

Scarface frowned. ‘Is it indeed?’ he hissed. ‘Now where can our Farthing Wood friends be lurking?’ He started to look around him and then sniffed the ground thereabouts. ‘Oh yes, there’s a trail here to be followed,’ he muttered. ‘Ranger, come here. Your nose is sharper. Lead me to them!’

The reluctant cub bent his muzzle to the ground as directed. A confusing variety of scents assailed his nostrils. Amongst them was one he knew he would recognize anywhere. He thought quickly. Here was a chance for him to lead the wretched band astray.

‘Well?’ boomed his father. ‘Don’t just stand there. Track them!’

Ranger followed Charmer’s scent for a while to give himself some idea of which direction she had travelled. Then he veered off after a hundred yards or so, losing her completely. For a time Scarface and the others followed in silence. But eventually the old fox became impatient.

‘Where are you taking us? We’re no nearer discovering them!’ he cried testily.

Ranger stopped. ‘It – it seems to peter out here,’ he said hesitantly.

‘Can’t you even follow a trail?’ snapped his father, bending his scarred head to the path. ‘Oh, I can’t smell anything! You, come here!’

Another cub’s nose was put to the test to no avail.

‘Ha! So you’ve lost it?’ Scarface snarled at Ranger
angrily. ‘Get to the back of the pack. You’re worse than useless.’

Ranger slunk away, wondering what the outcome of his misdemeanour would be. Scarface was furious. ‘I’ll not be frustrated again!’ he swore. ‘I’ll take some spoils!’

Even as he was cursing, a sort of miniature earthquake seemed to take place right in front of his eyes. A blunt snout and then a furry head, besprinkled with mould, peered out of a hole. Poor Mole, who had heard the running feet above one of his tunnels, had come to see what he had thought was his friends gathering.

‘Hal – lo,’ said Scarface menacingly. ‘You look as if you might be of help.’

Mole jumped. ‘Oh! Help? Help to whom?’ he cried nervously.

‘You’re one of the Farthing Wood fox’s friends, aren’t you?’ wheedled Scarface.

‘What if I am?’ said Mole stoutly. ‘Why do
you
ask?’

‘Well, you could leave this message for me,’ answered Scarface, accompanying his words with a vicious snap at the little creature. His jaws raked the delicate fur of Mole’s body and tore through the skin. But Mole turned tail and frantically began to dig himself back into his tunnel.

‘Dig him out! Dig him out!’ Scarface commanded. ‘We’ll have one victim!’

But Mole had no rivals as a tunneller and he was soon yards away on the route to Badger’s home before his attackers had barely disturbed the soil.

Scarface now rounded on his companions. ‘So even a mole is too much for you, it seems? You can’t track, you can’t dig! Perhaps it’s just as well we’ve done no fighting. You might have had to tackle a hedgehog or a squirrel and then how would you have managed?’

His tribe skulked away from him, looking cowed and resentful. Scarface sneered at them. ‘I think you all need a bit of training,’ he said. ‘Our fierce friends can’t stay hidden all day. You’ll have to face them eventually. And if any of you have other ideas I’ll have you fighting each other!’

Leaving them behind, he went and lay down by himself to wait. ‘I’ve got all the time in the world,’ he said to himself. ‘I’ll make them come out or they’ll starve to death.’