Run with the Wind Read Online Free

would suggest this all along.
    ‘But is he in this area?’ wondered Black Tip.
    ‘It was near here that I met him not too long ago,’ said Vickey. ‘Anyway, if you circle around you should be able to make contact with him.’
    ‘Right,’ said Black Tip. ‘I’ll do it at gloomglow.’
    The shooters were out again that day, although not in the same numbers as before. It was coming towards the end of the shooting season now, and the game had been severely thinned out. There were only a few old cock pheasants left, and they were too wily to be found. Snipe had moved elsewhere and woodcock were becoming rare. There was no let-up in the winter, and it was too cold to sit in an icy ditch and wait for ducks that might never come.
    So it was that when Black Tip set out at dusk he found the meadows empty and no shooters crouching along thethickets beside the streams. Old Sage Brush could wait. First he would eat. From his hiding place in the undergrowth below a holly tree, he scanned the darkening sky. All the clouds had gone and the blue seemed to have frozen into a darker purple. The rich green holly leaves would give him cover that the bare hawthorn hedges wouldn’t. He was in the rushiest part of the meadows, having reasoned that if ducks would come down anywhere, it wouldn’t be on a frozen stream, but here among the rushes where they could break the ice and poke around for slugs and worms.
    Before long a flock of teal flashed overhead with a grace and speed Black Tip admired. They circled high and wide, and landed in the rushes some distance away. He lay still. They were a small duck and had as much meat on their bones as a snipe. With luck a big mallard might see them and think the way was clear to come down. The thought was still going through his mind when two mallard appeared overhead and came in to land about mid-way between himself and the teal. He waited patiently to see what they would do.
    Fortunately, the mallard moved away from the teal and came towards the holly tree. They were searching for food beneath the rushes, and he could hear them slipping awkwardly on the ice as they moved closer to him. Now he could see the yellow beak and bottle-green head of the drake, and the brown head of the duck just beyond. A few steps more and the drake was within range. Black Tip sprangand snapped, catching the drake just above the white ring on its neck. The duck took off with a loud flapping and quacking that also sent the teal shooting away into the sky, but Black Tip was too busy to notice. He carried the limp body of the drake back to the holly tree, dropped it into the undergrowth where he had been lying, and nudged wisps of withered grass across it. He had a long way to go, and he would collect it on the way back.
    That night Black Tip moved in a wide circle. He covered many miles, and on stones and in certain secret places known only to foxes, he left a trail of scents for Old Sage Brush. At each stop he also raised his head and barked the names of Old Sage Brush and Vickey on the wind. He knew that if the old fox didn’t hear him, some other fox would pass the message on. One way or the other, he hoped Old Sage Brush would get to know that Vickey wanted to see him and that he would follow the scent to the quarry at Beech Paw.
    Having completed his circle, Black Tip collected the dead mallard and taking care to lift it in such a way that it didn’t hurt his sore lip, he carried it back to the quarry. By this time the frost had settled as white as mistletoe on the darkened countryside and he himself looked distinctly white when he arrived at the den. He was glad he had done his hunting first, as he was now tired and cold, and like Vickey and Fang, very hungry.
    When Old Sage Brush learned that Vickey wanted tosee him, it occurred to him that a younger dog might well have mistaken it for an invitation to a romantic meeting. He smiled at the thought. It flattered him. However, he knew he was too old for that and