Run with the Wind Read Online Free Page A

anyway he realised she already had company. He remembered Vickey well, as he had formed a father-like affection for her. ‘If ever I can help you,’ he had told her, ‘just let me know.’ Now she had and now he would.
    It was about two nights later that a strange face peeped over the edge of the quarry, and when the way was clear, came down to the den beneath the overhanging rock. None of the three foxes curled up under the rocks knew a thing until the same face peered in at them. Black Tip whipped around with a snarl, but Vickey was at his side in an instant. ‘Wait,’ she cried, ‘it’s Old Sage Brush. Sage Brush, is that really you?’
    ‘Who else?’ said the stranger. ‘Am I not welcome here? I thought I had an invitation.’
    ‘Of course you have,’ said Vickey. ‘This is Black Tip and Fang. Fang and I are injured. Black Tip is looking after us.’
    ‘You gave us a fright creeping up on us like that,’ said Black Tip.
    ‘How else should I tread, but carefully,’ smiled Old Sage Brush. ‘If the great oak bends before the wind, who am I to raise my head?’
    Resent as they might the way the old fox had been able to creep up on them, Black Tip and Fang knew full wellthat in his own strange way he was telling them it was only because he took extreme care that he had lived so long. And it was only now as he stood at the entrance to their den that they noticed how old he was. His cheek ruffs and whiskers were grey and beard-like, and the scars on his face seemed to underline his years of experience. Snowflakes clinging to his coat cloaked him in a mantle of white in a way that somehow seemed appropriate to his age. It was as they thought of this and looked past him, that the others noticed skiffs of snow swirling around the quarry in the early dawn.
    Old Sage Brush sniffed at the remains of the duck, and eased his weary old body down on to the warm earth of the den. Vickey got up and approached him. Her hind leg gave way under her, and she dropped to the ground with a yelp of pain.
    ‘Now, Vickey,’ he said, ‘how did you get yourself into this mess? And Fang, what happened your throat? You sound hoarse.’
    Bit by bit they told the old fox how they had come to be injured, and when they had finished, he said to Vickey: ‘You want to be more careful. You had no business being in the meadows at that time. And as for you two, you should be ashamed of yourselves, trying to kill each other.’ He stopped and smiled to himself. ‘Hmmm, I suppose I did the same myself when I was young, and she is worth fighting over. But she’s right, you know. Times have changed. We’ve got to sticktogether now. It’s them or us.’
    ‘That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,’ said Vickey. ‘That and the legend of Sinna.’
    ‘All in good time,’ replied Old Sage Brush. ‘First we must eat. Black Tip, it’s up to you again I’m afraid. My old bones are too tired, but if you forage around for something, I’ll try and get these other two back on their feet. I tell you what, the farm dogs haven’t the guts to go out far in the snow. Take yourself off down to the meadow at the end of the farm. The farm ducks only lay in the morning and you can bring back a few eggs. Don’t touch the ducks themselves. They’ll kick up too much of a fuss and bring the farmer on to us. Hurry now and make the best of the snow. As long as it’s falling it’ll cover your tracks.’
    It was news to Black Tip that farmyard ducks only laid in the morning. Yet the old fox seemed to know what he was talking about. So off he went, keeping to whatever cover he could find to avoid being seen against the snow.
    When Black Tip had gone, Old Sage Brush turned to the others. ‘Vickey,’ he said, ‘you must exercise that leg. Otherwise it’ll stiffen up completely and you’ll never get it back to normal, and a stiff leg is no use to you if you’re running for your life. Now’s an ideal time to get out and stretch it. And Fang, the