MORTAL HOWL

Far, far back in the tome of local oddities, also known as the Llênleabar to Oulgans of old, is a story written in large black squiggles. In bold and underlined is the title, “Fox Hunta” with pointy ears accompanying the last letters, and written with a different hand is the word “sionnach brocair” with a series of linked ovals that display a smile. 

The tale goes “Deep one night, in the dark and the cold. Beyond the sleeping veil of the village lied none awake but one. A night owl cooking local steak. The remains of dead cow. 

He had one of his usual lazy days. No work begotten. Nought but for eating, and consuming. They did not speak with nature that day, nor any day recently. They never before had the ways of it. And so they sat in their dining room, drooling over steak by a candle and listening to the old winds of a dry storm. Diogen, was a person of null belief, someone who cared not for the land they were surrounded by, nor the whole world they inhabited. 

Once done with the flesh of the dead, Diogen took what remained outside, ready for the worms and flowers. This was a nice gesture to the land, but he acted not good enough, it seems. 

For a hedgehog approaches him from the bushes of darkness. They squeak with their thin pointed nose aimed high. Digoen looked down at their spiked body in amusement, “Avent seen you guys in a while. Thought the cats had ya.” The tiny hog squeaked. Diogen nodded. 

Until a rarer sight approached. A stripe of red leered out the bushery. Two glowing blue eyes came above shaggy teeth. “Oh! A fox!” Diogen said. “You are hungry? I know this plight. Take him.” The man knelt down as the Fox’s eyes narrowed on the hedgehog, awaiting the perfect time to strike and tear the little thing apart. Teeth grew out the side of their mouth as dribbled dripped from the corner. 

“Here ya go” Diogen tosses the little, startled creature to the more startled Fox. Their grin becomes glum. A smile no longer. The eyes now looked in disbelief at the man as the flustered hog waddles away. The winds stop. The dry air becomes thick and sickly. Leaves on the bush that the fox hid in now lay still, allowing the creature inside to showcase themself. Putting one paw forward they exit the bushery. “You’v no mind for it?” asked the human. No response came from the Fox, just another paw out from the bush. 

It was still dark and hard to see. The glow of the eyes dimmed as the head bowed. Another paw comes from the bush. “It will get away-” croakes the man pointing at the hedgehog, another paw. He steps back, keeping an eye on Fox, his heels look for the backdoor of the house. The low hanging Foxhead glided out the bush. The neck becomes a snake. 

“What?” asked Diogen. As he stumbled backwards into the door, opening it with a turned hand. He collapsed into the house and kicked the door shut with a slam. The air was still no more and the wind returned. 

When Diogens eyes look out the kitchen window, he sees only a quivering bush and a hedgehog leaving to the left in a tiny fencehole. After a moment of standing and assessing, the wind slipped quiet. And a Foxes’ scream occurs at the front of the house. Followed by another from afar. From the oakwoods out and over the fence. Has the Fox left him be? 

No, Diogen feels a curse bubblin inside, deep down in the gutty works. He hears another scream out in the far distance. Terrifying things; sounds like babies, scared people, unnatural sounds. He runs to bed, but finds no good sleep. In fact not a wink came to pass. Outside, scream after scream occurred but now they grew closer. From all angles. He got up. Paces the room. Looks outside, only to see nothing. Paces again. Gets into bed. He repeats this as the late hours pass. 

Until a crash came from inside. Downstairs. 

“Gasp” he gasps. Up and out he gets, standing in the cold-dark in his thin nightcloth he manages to beckon down the stairs “What dye warrant? What dye waaaaaant?”. A paw’s shadow moves across the floorboards from deep below. The shadow moved silently and flickered the dark blue hue that came from the sky outside. Diogen grabs himself a small table as a weapon. “Ill have ya, dirty bastard” the table wielding man screams as he moves slowly down each step. 

At the bottom, there’s no Fox to be seen. Only glass on the floor from a broken window. The sight puts him on high alert. As his eyes squint to scour the ground of his small cottage, he notices a face in the window. A furry face. A furious Foxes face. He jumps back. Looking at the dark shadowy head. He realises now, as a shudder runs down his spine, the glass on the floor is from a high-up window. Not one of Fox height. 

The face in the window stares back. A small white shimmer comes from the lower head, teeth, glinting in moonlight. Fear beyond anything he has experienced is now in Diogen, as he stares this creature in the eyes. “You will go!” shouts the terrified man. He turns to see another dark face in another window behind. And another two to his side. Diogen was hamgaeedig surrounded. He felt the wet warmth of piss leak into his nightcloth. A crack of falling glass comes from the side room. A Fox’s head pops around the doorway, only it is far higher and larger than any Fox Diogen had seen.

This is enough for Diogen, he screams a bloodcurdling scream that echoes around the home and out the broken glass. It is barbaric and gutwrenching. The type you would wake up from, and go outside in your night-hat and torch to see what is the matter. And the neigbhourhood would, had it not been for the second scream, a Foxhead from behind copies his shriek but covers it in animalism. Like a display of threat. The air is fear. Diogen is shakin’ in his boot. He crumbles inward. Another scream, followed by more copying and morphing. 

“HEEELPP!” he finally musters out. But it is immediately covered with a wild caw from the Fox. Until its unrecognisable. The Foxes head from the other room begins to grow closer. Diogen flops to the floor. Quaking in every limb. Mutterings for mercy. A falling droplet caught his eye. He looks down as it lands on the floor. And back up to the nearing smile. Diogen realises what the droplet was, and a last shudder falls down his spine.

“Dribble” he whispers, thinking of his steak.”