Chapter 6 – Milestones

Judy awoke, for the third consecutive day, being held possessively by her natural predator. But unlike the previous two days...

Nick, she thought as she opened her eyes.

His arms were not grasping her tightly, nor were his legs. In fact, his hold didn't bother her at all: he literally encircled her, the tip of his tail almost meeting the tip of his nose, with only a single arm draped over her shoulder.

Slowly, the memories of the previous day returned to her, and then of the previous night, and then she noticed that she was no longer outside. Nick must have moved them to her first burrow again.

So much for putting that second one to use, she thought, only slightly annoyed at the wasted effort.

She pressed further into the fur of the fox, her habits of social sleeping with siblings overcome her instincts in this instance. Thankfully, from this angle, she could not see his claws or teeth, making it that much easier to ignore the nagging sense that she should be scrambling away screaming.

I don't need to listen to you, she insisted at her instincts, resolutely repeating last night's realization. I'm a strong, independent rabbit!

(This ironic statement did not seem to stay in her mind for long, however, as the fox whom she had just finished cuddling began to shift in response to her half hug.)

She started slightly at the shifting of the slumbering fox before once again consciously quashing the compulsion to climb to her feet and flee.

A green eye opened, staring blankly and blinking a few times before finally focusing on the form of the bunny before it.

Suppressing another shudder, she looked right back at him and smiled.

His one visible eye widened briefly, then his head lifted off the ground and turned to her. Nick returned a hesitant smile, his lips drawing back-

TEETH!

-to reveal teeth that only slightly caused her to flinch. She was getting much better about that, honest!

But Nick seemed to notice anyway, his smile shifting into a something slightly sadder.

Judy, with a firm thought directed at her instincts to Quit it!, placed a palm on his pelt and pet placidly, hoping to convey that it was okay, and that he shouldn't worry about it.

Nick did not seem to understand entirely, but he did cheer up some. Then, he unwrapped himself from around her, stood as far away from her as the small space could sustain, and started stretching.

She watched the fox flush out the flaws from his fibrous frame, wincing weakly as his claws extended and retracted. The mighty, close-eyed yawn that followed was difficult to endure, but endure it she did.

She stretched a tad as well, noting that her ivy-encircled ankle no longer felt nearly as injured as before.

Almost healed, Judy judged, tapping the trappings.

This caught the attention of Nick, who moved his face forward toward her foot, sniffing subtly.

She smiled, then stood up on twos, not needing the spear/staff for support.

Nick watched her in some surprise, glancing from her foot to her face. Then, he tried standing up as well, but his head had hit the ceiling, and he began rubbing it.

Judy might have been more interested in the fact that a wild fox had only taken three days to attempt what most wild rabbits took weeks to try if she hadn't been snickering too hard to notice it.

The fox glared at her, sending a shiver down her spine, which he saw, causing him to drop the glare.

"Here," she said when she was in control of herself again. "Come outside." She made a sort of follow me motion with her arm as she exited the burrow.

The fox followed her out after only a slight hesitation.

Judy walked to one of the willows surrounding the clearing – an excellent tool for beginners – and waited for Nick to catch up. When he did, she demonstrated going from four legs to two, trailing her hands up the tree trunk until she was fully upright. Then she moved away and pointed at Nick. "You." She pointed at the trunk. "Try."

Nick studied her suspiciously, then shifted his eyes to the shaft of the willow. He approached it slowly, then started to climb upwards. He fell over twice, but Judy encouraged him to keep trying. Finally, after several false starts, he stood on shaky legs, and Judy was clapping.

"Good job," she said. Only then did she notice the fast progression of the fox from wild to walking.

And she suddenly knew what she would be doing that day.

She quickly said, "You stay there," pointing at the fox, then at the tree, before dashing over to the firepit and finding her spear. She rushed back to the fox, whose eyes widened in apparent alarm.

Oh right, she thought. Weapon.

She slowed down, spun the spear so the sharp end was pointing away from him, and said "Here."

The fox looked from her to the spear, then slowly reached out to take it. When he had the spear in his grasp, he lost his balance and fell forward onto all fours.

Judy nodded in satisfaction, then approached the tree and performed her lesson plan: first, her hands walked up the wood once again; next, she released her hold on the bark, and she progressed on two paws to the closest tree; finally, she leaned on her destination, looking at Nick to see if he understood.

Nick's eyebrows were furrowed, but he nodded once when he noticed her questioning gaze.

Although instead of attempting the amble himself, he pointed at her, said the sound for "You," then made a new sound accompanied by a come over here gesture.

She approached curiously, not sure what to expect.

Nick pointed at her. "You." Then he pointed at the ground, making a second noise she hadn't heard before. He rolled his eyes when she tilted her head, then made an exaggerated show of being on all four paws.

She lowered herself to the ground, not sure what he was getting at.

Nick eyed her with a critical expression, then shook his head.

She had to suppress another impulse as he padded right up to her and touched her. He prodded her thigh with his paw, then poked her back. When she still didn't understand, he put pressure on her lower back until her butt was almost touching the ground. Then he adjusted the angle of her arms and the stance of her thighs.

Finally, he took a step back and nodded.

It didn't take long to realize what this was about. She felt... natural, for lack of a better word. Even her instincts were no longer shouting at her, having finally found something to be happy about for a change. If she had to guess, her crouching position probably paralleled that of a wild rabbit.

She looked at Nick, who was smiling at her magnanimously. Then he demonstrated what he wanted her to do next: he briefly crouched himself, then leapt forward in a mighty lunge.

She mirrored the motion, a rush of adrenaline shooting through her veins as she moved faster than she ever had under her own power – maybe faster than she had ever moved, period. She landed clumsily, but she was soon back on her feet – on all four feet – and trying again. She laughed with pure joy as she caught herself correctly, then laughed more as she accelerated again. Soon she was dashing around the clearing, the pain in her foot completely forgotten.

This is amazing! she wanted to shout to the air, only she was panting too powerfully to pause. Then, suddenly, something screamed FOX! in her head, and she pushed off in a completely random direction that her instincts insisted she should go because it was away from it. And that was how she ran face-first into a fern.

She sat there for a moment, dazed, until a snickering snapped her out of it. Her senses were still scrambled, but she recognized that sound as foxy laughter, and she automatically glared in the direction it was coming from.

The laughter continued, but it slowly died down. Curiously, it stayed the same volume, somehow managing to grow louder as it grew softer. She only realized what it meant when her eyes finally managed to focus on something: Nick had been getting closer. He was standing not far away, a paw extended in her direction.

Taking only a moment longer than usual to stomp down the strangely stronger-than-it-should-be instinctual instruction to shove herself away, she placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

Nick was still smiling at her, almost looking proud.

"Alright," she said, "I've had my fun. Now it's your turn."

She pointed back to the two trees, causing Nick's expression to wilt.

"Come on, hop to it," she said, clapping her hands. Nick wouldn't understand the words, but he'd understand the attitude. "If I can run on four feet, you can walk on two."

The thought did not occur to her until much later that her own success was not a reflection of talent, but of something else entirely. Only after repeated exposure to the same idea would she realize the true reason: it was far easier to fall back on your instincts than it was to overcome them.

Nick paced the space betwixt the trees. He did not waste effort on haste, but on the deliberate and conscious effort of putting one foot in front of the other.

He did not even peripherally pay attention to Judy, who (last time he checked) was doing something with fire and another tree she had decided to be no longer deserving of the right to remain upright.

No, his focus was firmly fixed on his own actions, and on the tree in front of him. He was almost there... almost there... almost...

"There!" he shouted, finally leaning on the other tree. It had taken him all morning to do that. He almost couldn't believe that Judy did this all the time.

He glanced at the rabbit, who seemed to be leaning forward and blowing on something. She wasn't blowing on the fire, like she had to get it started, but on the end of her freshly cut stick, which seemed to be smoking.

He wondered if he should go over and see, but she was sitting right next to the fire...

And besides, he thought. I should get better at this first. That way I can show her I actually know how to walk the way she does, when she inevitably asks me to demonstrate.

And so he devoted more of his day to this arduous effort, only occasionally observing Judy to track her progress. His own was very slow going, but he did feel like he had improved by the end. Now he could make it across the gap without fail every other attempt. If he used Judy's stick for support, he could easily do it every time, but that had gotten old some time ago, before he adopted the challenge to go the distance unaided.

He only stopped practicing when he noticed Judy headed to the river, a new stick held in her paw.

Nick, curious, followed after, using her old stick to walk on two paws.

She noticed him halfway through, stopping to stare with wide eyes and an open mouth as he drew closer.

He smiled smugly in return, only dropping to all fours when his feet were about to meet the rocky sheet of the creek's shore. He handed the stick to her, saying "Fish," as he did. He knew, from yesterday, that the fire would eventually die down, and he wanted to enjoy some flame-licked-fish before it did. He pointed to the fire, for emphasis.

Not long later, he was stuffing himself on a spit-roast with satisfaction.

While he ate, he watched Judy grind one rock against another – a small stone vs. the big flat rock next to the water – not knowing in the slightest why she was doing it. She would occasionally dip the smaller rock into the creek, or splash some water onto the larger one, but then it would be right back to grinding.

When the fish were gone, he continued to watch for a time, then came to a decision. She had just helped him with the fish, so he could help her with...

She jumped when he placed his paw around hers, turning quickly to face him.

"I got this," he said, pointing to himself. Even though he didn't quite know what 'this' was.

She brought a paw to her chest, as if to calm down her sudden panting.

Oh right, he thought. I shouldn't surprise her like that.

Eventually, she managed to notice that he was now scraping the smaller rock against the larger one. She immediately said something and grasped his arms, halting his movements.

He looked at her, confused.

She shook her head, taking his paws in hers, and adjusting them until he was holding the smaller rock almost parallel to the larger rock. Then she nodded, moving his paws back and forth while keeping them at that angle.

Don't scrape the sharp-ish edge. Got it.

He began adding more pressure to his scraping, Judy watching him all the while. Occasionally she would splash some water over his paws – which had surprised him the first time – making the scraping somewhat easier. She eventually had him flip over the rock to begin scraping the other side, which was the moment he noticed that the side he'd been working was now significantly flatter and smoother than it had been when he'd started. It wasn't until he was finished with the other side as well that he realized the point of the whole thing.

We just gave that rock a long, sharp edge.

And it was then that he also noticed a hole in the stick she was holding, seemingly burned straight through. The hole was about the same size as the rock, and after a bit of effort, the rabbit was soon holding a stick with sharp rock through one end.

Axe acquired, Judy thought finally. It only took, what, the whole day? She looked up at the sun. Most of the day, she mentally corrected.

A yip from Nick drew her gaze back down to earth, and she saw him looking at her questioningly. He repeated the yip, pointing at the axe, and tilting his head.

If I had to guess, he just asked me what it was, or what it's for.

"It's an axe," she said. She stood from her perch on the flat rock and walked to the nearest small tree. "Watch."

She began banging against the bark, chipping away at the wood one chop at a time. The axe head was shaped like a triangle, meaning it would wedge itself further into the hole with each strike. Soon, taking much less time than her previous two trees, the towering lumber tumbled, and she moved on to another.

She made something that helps her chop down trees, Nick thought. And now she's making the clearing wider.

The rabbit had, in the time between finishing her new tool and sunset, managed to chop down no fewer than five trees, and she was well on her way to her sixth. What's more, these trees were all longer and slightly thicker than the first two, though not by much.

When her most recent foe had fallen, Judy seemed satisfied with herself. She dragged the trees away to her new burrow, shoving them well inside and leaving them there. She then turned on her heel and walked back to her first burrow.

She didn't come out again, making Nick wonder if she had turned in for the night.

Judy yawned, lying down on the dirt floor and munching on her last carrot. She had made good progress today, and she already had an idea for her next project.

A noise coming from immediately outside made her jump. Then she realized that she had completely forgotten about Nick sometime around the second tree.

A fox's head poked through the hole, focusing quickly on her. "Judy?" he asked, using his version of her name instead of hers.

"Nick?" she asked back, using her version of his name instead of his.

He paused, looking like he wanted to ask her something, but probably not knowing how. Then, in his own language, he said "you", followed by a new word she hadn't heard before, followed by an act she easily interpreted as sleeping.

"Are you going to sleep?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He paused, thinking again. "I" he said, followed by "you", followed by another word she hadn't heard before, while he pointed back and forth between them.

"We," she thought. Just like I taught him last night, only now he's teaching me HIS way of saying it.

She nodded, conveying she had understood.

Then he acted out a full sentence. She didn't understand the last word, but it was easy enough to guess through context.

"We sleep together?"

The question gave her some pause. Did she want to sleep with the fox again? Her instincts both did and did not like the idea. On the one hand, she probably wouldn't be able to fall asleep all that well without another mammal to cuddle. In fact, she couldn't remember a singe night in her entire life where she went to sleep alone; even on the very worst night, Nick had been there to fill the void. But on the other hand, her instincts insisted, once again, that this was a fox.

After taking that into account (and immediately discarding it, because screw you, instincts!), the choice was clear.

She nodded, backing up to allow Nick space to enter.

He smiled, pulling himself the rest of the way inside and pressing up against her.

She thought, as she slowly drifted to sleep, that this might be some sort of milestone: the first night she consciously chose not only to let a fox into her home, but to sleep soundly next to her. A milestone to what end, she didn't know, but a milestone nonetheless.