The vixen stood alone under the large tree, eating a dead thrush she had found.
She had survived in this harsh forest for a full season-cycle now, it was all a blur to her. She finished her meal and squirmed down to her burrow which she called home. The vixen let her first meal in days settle in her stomach while she thought about her life so far. Her parents were two average-looking red foxes, and their kits had inherited their pelts. The vixen had been named Dew by her parents, and she and her 3 siblings got along, for the most part. For the first season of Dew's life, her family lived in a nice burrow snugly underground. The forest was bursting with animals in the summer sunshine, life really couldn't get much better. The family was safe and happy.
Until fall came around.
The hunters and their dogs came barging through the forest. Gunshots were fired, animals were chased and caught, dogs bared their huge shiny white teeth as if they were signalling the end. The family was forced to flee their home and spend their days hiding and running. The kits and their parents were exhausted, and food was running very low. On one faithful morning, the foxes could run no more. The kits were hidden in an abandoned burrow. The weary parents were dead by nightfall. The kits were never found, and Dew's three weaker siblings all died from starvation. Dew was near death, until she decided one day to venture out of her hiding spot and came across some dead mice. She trained herself to hunt and managed to not be killed by the hunters. Through a harsh and lonely winter and a peaceful spring, Dew was just glad to be alive.
The vixen longed for some company though and other foxes were hard to find this season, as the key mating season, spring, had passed. Dew feel asleep in her cold burrow, dreaming of better times.