F0X09T Book 1 Chapter 7

Fox O'Nine Tales
Larissa of Foxwood

Chapter Seven


     Lord Chamberlain Reynard suddenly tilted his head back and raised one of his finely-cuffed and manicured (pedicured?) furry hands heavenward, apropos of nothing in particular, as far as Larissa could tell, and addressed the newly arrived trio of guests.  
     "Larissa! Reggie! Bea! Come right this way! Quickly! Quickly! The Royal Princesses are assembled in expectation of receiving you!"  Reynard had already turned and launched himself back up the red carpet into the Castle foyer as if he were late for an appointment.  Larissa, Reggie and Bea had to dash after him to catch up.  They followed at the heels of the tall, dapper fox as he continued to accent his own words with dramatic sweeping flourishes of his arms as he walked and talked.
    "I'm afraid that the usual tranquility of our peaceful Kingdom has been disrupted by some sort of preposterous folderol which has in turn precipitated a fair amount of public relations rigmarole which the Council of Princesses are presently dealing with even as we speak.  Alas!  This means I must deposit you for what will hopefully be just a short while in the Royal Waiting Room as if you were gem miners from the North seeking to peddle pendants to the Princesses! Never fear! I will send refreshments right away if the wait is more than a few minutes!"
    Reynard ushered the three visitors about three-quarters way down the broad main hall and then through a door hidden in the hallway wall that was the entrance into a swanky anteroom.  The hidden chamber had several comfy-looking sofas and divans luxuriously appointed with tons of throw pillows.  The moment Larissa, Reggie and Bea were inside, the (doorknobless!) door was quickly closed behind them and they could hear the heels of Reynard's shoes clicking away down the hallway.  Larissa was grateful to have a sit-down on one of the divans to collect her thoughts.  Reggie and Bea, though, had had their "fox inquisitiveness" sparked by Reynard's hurried hallway remarks and, the moment the door was closed and Reynard was gone, they clutched each other's paws and actually bumped their noses together in their excitement to recap and analyze the developing situation.     
     "Oh my goodness!" whisper-shouted Bea.  "Just what do you think is going on in Foxwood?!  Why are the Princesses in dire convention at this very moment?!"
     "It has to be the intruder! The alien!" whisper-shouted Reggie. "First the word was that the Council was denying an intrusion!  Then that Wolfen Guard Commander had actually stated officially that Knight Nathaniel had captured an intruder and turned him over to the Council!  And there's been no official word from the Princesses yet as to sorting out these discrepancies, so far as I've heard!"
     "Oh!" exclaimed Bea, "it's all too exciting!  And we're right here in the capital as it's happening! Isn't it exciting, Larissa?!"
     Larissa shook her head as she tried to process all the incoming information.
     "What's the problem, though? I thought you guys were happy to have visitors?"
     "Invited visitors, yes!" said Reggie. "But not uninvited intruders!"
     "Well, since visitors like me 'invite' ourselves, anyway," said Larissa, "what's the difference in someone just walking in?  Isn't that just cutting out the paperwork?"
     "Oh, heavens, no, child!" said Bea.  "Invited visitors express their sincerest desire to be here with us in Foxwood!  Through their drawings and paintings and poems and stories and songs!  An uninvited intruder sneaks in for, well, who knows what reason?!  That's the very, very big difference!"
     Larissa pondered the subtle distinction.
     "OK, but do these intruders come from the waking world?  You know, my world?"
     Reggie and Bea silently contemplated he question, as if stumped.
     "You know," Reggie finally replied, "I think every purported intruder in Bea's and my lifetime has turned out to be just a rumor, just a hoax.  If this intruder turns out to be real, I do believe he-"
     "Or itl"  excitedly interjected Bea.
     "He, or it," continued Reggie, "will be the first living, breathing specimen that I, at least, will have ever witnessed.  As to the legal ramifications and what to actually do with such an intruder – I haven't the foggiest! No wonder the Council of Princesses is in an uproar!"
     Bea suddenly stepped over and near-collapsed on the divan next to Larissa, taking one of the girl's hands in her two paws and pressing her furry face to Larissa's cheek.
     "Oh, Larissa, this is all taking a turn for the frightful!" said the fox wife.  "Let's talk about anything else until Reynard comes back for us!"
     Larissa gently patted and softly stroked the red fur between the pointed fox ears atop Bea's head in a comforting manner, and then realized she was petting her hostess as if she were trying to calm a frightened pet puppy dog.  But it felt like it was an OK thing to do, considering the circumstances.
     "Good idea, Bea!" said Reggie.  "So, Larissa, you've seen a bit more of the Kingdom.  I'm sure new questions keep popping into your head with each new peculiar sight and sound you encounter."
     "Oh, absolutely," said Larissa. "Let me think of a really good one…"  She closed her eyes to think, her head still resting against sweet Bea's.
     Then her eyes flew open and she jerked her head up, startling Bea.
    "Foxtails!" she exclaimed.
    "Foxtails?" repeated Reggie.
    "Yes, yes," said Larissa.  "I want to know about your foxtails.  They look different from the normal foxes' tails in my world."
    "Larissa," said Reggie, smiling. "Bea and I and the other fox folk are "normal" foxes!  You mean what we call "forest foxes" – the animals who run on four legs and yip and yap instead of talk.  Just like the ones in your world.  We have them here, too.  You'll probably see some when we visit the Northern Provinces."
    "OK, OK," said Larissa apologetically, "I mean, the foxtails of you fox folk guys look different than the foxtails of the regular forest foxes.  Why are there the different colored rings and markings on different fox folks' tails? Do they mean anything, or is it just like having blue eyes or brown eyes doesn't actually 'mean' anything?"
    Reggie and Bea simultaneously whipped their fluffy foxtails round in front of themselves as far as possible as if to better illustrate their explanation of fox folk foxtail decipherment. They looked like two kids in school about to do "show & tell" in front of the class.
    "Excellent question, Larissa," said Reggie, returning to his very serious professorial tone.  "The colored rings and markings in the fur of our foxtails do indeed indicate certain things about our individual origins and identities. Let's start with at the top – with the tip."
     Reggie and Bea held up their white-tipped red tails side by side.
     "Bea and I are rather average foxes in most ways-"
     "Typical, Reggie! said Bea. "Typical, not 'average'!  Average means like everybody else.  We are typical foxes, but special foxes.  Not average!"
     Reggie sighed as Bea giggled to Larissa, playfully mocking Reggie's seriousness.
     "So," Reggie began again, "like typical red foxes, we have white-tipped tails. This is typical, a white tip, and doesn't mean anything more."
     "But watch this," said Bea.  And she wiggled the white tip of her tail vigorously.
     Reggie looked annoyed.
     "Wiggling the tip of your tail doesn't mean a darn thing, either," said Reggie.
     "Oh yes it does," said Bea.
     "What, then, could it possibly mean?" asked her husband.
     "It means I can do something you can't do!" exclaimed Bea.  And then she leaned in close to Larissa to stage-whisper loudly to her.  "I can wiggle my tip, but Reggie can't wiggle his!"
     "Cool!" said Larissa. "I can roll my tongue, and some people can't!"
     "Show me!" squealed Bea.  And Larissa did, sticking her rolled tongue out at Bea, and they both giggled like naughty children.
     "OK, that's it. I quit," declared Reggie.
     "No, no, no, no, no!" implored Larissa. "We'll be good!  What do the colors of the rings around the tail mean, the two rings just before the white tip starts? Please tell me!"
     Reggie made a stern face.  Larissa noticed that when he was annoyed, his facial fox whiskers stiffened and straightened straight out at length like fine super-sensitive antennae. Like a startled blowfish. But she suppressed the tickle of the giggle prompted by the thought.
     Reggie harrumphed a great throat-clearing "Harrr-ummph," and continued his foxtail lecture.
     "Ah, yes, the rings near the tip of the tail…" he said, reorienting himself. "Well, this first ring, just touching the white tip of my tail, is a golden ring, as is the ring on Bea's tail.  This color of the ring indicates the province of Foxwood you were born in, Bea and myself both hailing from Bliss Province."
     "Bliss is golden," said Bea. "Our motto."
     "Provinces, of course, don't have mottos," said Reggie.
     "Ours does. Unofficially, of course," said Bea, winking at Larissa.
     "But," continued Reggie, the next ring on our tails, touching, or abutting if you will, the first ring – these rings are different."
     "No," said Larissa. "you both have a single gold ring, but Bea's ring looks a bit tarnished, no wait, I mean, darker to one side."
     Bea flipped her tail up to her face as if to examine it closely.
     "Tarnished! Oh, my!" she said.
     Reggie thrust his tail forward for Larissa to get a better look.
     "Actually, if you look closely, you will see that there are in fact two golden rings round my tail, and Bea has a golden ring abutted by a yellow-green ring."
     "Chartreuse!" interjected Bea. "It's chartreuse, dear. 'Yellow-green' sounds like … like tarnished gold!"
     Larissa carefully inspected both tails and duly noted the separation between the thin rings of tail colorings and the slight difference in the color of one of Bea's two rings.
     "So why do you dye them like this?" asked Larissa, which provoked more giggles from Bea.
     Reggie smiled, and continued the lesson.
     "We don't dye them – well, some of the kits… OK, let's just say that normally we don't dye our fur. We're born with certain markings and some other ones appear as we make our way through life, depending on…"
     "Depending on what?" asked Larissa.
     Reggie hesitated in his response.
     "Stuff that, you know … happens," offered Bea, sharing a look with Reggie.
     "Right," said Reggie. "Stuff that happens. Anyway, my second ring is also golden because that ring indicates which seasonal sign it is that Foxwood is passing through at the time of your birth, which for me was the month of Leo.  Gold is the color for both the Province of Bliss, where I was born, and the month of Leo, when I was born."
     "His future is 'double-golden'!" whispered Bea to Larissa, making Reggie scowl.
     "Unofficially," whispered Bea to Larissa, smiling proudly.
     "What's "double-golden'?!" asked Larissa.
     "Nonsense from a crazy old oracle fox," sputtered Reggie, still scowling.
     "Tell me about oracle foxes!" said Larissa excitedly.
     Reggie would not be sidetracked again.
     "In due time, Larissa, I will fill you in on all the preposterous stuff and nonsense this kingdom has to offer, but please, let's get back to tail identifications. It might very well be important that you know this in the coming days!"
     Larissa calmed immediately at Reggie's suggestion of his lessons being not just fun facts, but possibly being need-to-know information for some still unannounced "test" she might be expected to pass.  This dream was just too good to be true, whether it was real or not. There had to be a catch. And boy oh boy how Larissa hated being "tested"!  She assumed a proper posture of proper attentiveness so Reggie would continue.
      "The second ring on Bea's tail is not gold, but actually yellow-green, I mean, chartreuse, because she was born in the month of Virgo, and chartreuse is the color for that birth-month."
      "Not a 'double-ringer', but close!" said Bea, flicking her tail tip wildly again for just a moment. "I like it."  
      Larissa raised her hand to ask a question.  Wow, she thought. My first time!    I never raise my hand, ever, at school. But this stuff is a lot more interesting than the hypotenuse of a triangle!
      "And what is your question, my dear?" intoned Reggie, smiling happily at her show of interest in his lecture.
      "Some foxes have a, I don't know what to call it, a line running the whole length of their tail.  Some have it along the top, some underneath. I saw one that went round and round in a spiral, like an olden-time barber pole!"
      Bea's eyes lit up.  "Read your intended's lifeline clear," she sang, "or in coins of your happiness you will pay dear!"
      Reggie rolled his eyes sarcastically. "The line you see running the lengths of our tails is called a lifeline, and foxian science has established no clear links between these birthmarks and a fox's personality or anything "fated" to happen to that fox later in life."  He enunciated "fated" as if the word tasted sour is his mouth.
      " 'Birthmarks'!" was the word that upset Bea. " 'Birthmarks' only! Oh, my! Reading foxtails is the very sort of thing we're supposed to be instructing Larissa in, so her time here will be full of joy and danger free – and you're telling her to never mind what a fox's lifeline looks like! Oh, please, Reggie!"  
      Reggie fought to maintain his composure. He said, quietly, "I don't see how it is appropriate to fill Larissa's head with old fox-wives' tales and superstitions about what are probably no more than arbitrary birthmarkings of no real significance…"
      "Bu, buh, buh, buh-" burbled Bea.
      Reggie sighed yet another exasperated sigh.
      "But I guess she should be made aware of certain "urban legends" and beliefs widely held by the more culturally and scientifically backward of the common fox folk. So, alright, very well…"
      "Yeah!" yelped Larissa, delighted to about to be "made aware" of all the really "inside" juicy stuff.
      Bea leaned her head to whisper in Larissa's ear.  "Did he just call me 'backward' ?"
      "OK," said Reggie. "The Birth Month and Provincial Origin rings near the tip of the tail are scientifically actual factual things common to all foxes.  They are basic. As to so-called lifelines…"
      Larissa leaned forward most attentively.  Bea twittered happily at shaming Reggie into indulging all her "unscientific" but really, really fun "backwardness".
      "Down through the ages, there are many different meanings that have been attributed to the many different sorts of 'lifelines' on foxes' tails. Supposedly, the darker – that is, the more instantly and always visible to the eye – that the lifeline is, the more profoundly influencing the supposed 'meaning' of that type of lifeline will be in the fox's life.  For example, a black lifeline supposedly means a fox's life will be filled with troubles and dangers, the darker and wider the black lifeline, the more severe and life-threatening these troubles will supposedly be."
      "And!" interjected Bea excitedly, "if there are breaks in the black lifeline, each break will be a time the fox's life that the fox will face possible death or worse!"
      "So," said Larissa, "if a lady fox falls in love with another fox – so he's her "intended" – and he's got a big ol' black lifeline on his tail, and there's even a bunch of broken spots in the line, then she should think twice about marrying him. She'll 'pay' all her 'coins of happiness' and be unhappy because his tail will bring trouble and danger into their lives. Whoa!"  
       "This is what I was afraid of!" moaned Reggie. "Larissa, a fox's tail can't bring trouble or danger into his life."
       "Oh, you know what she means! The lifeline on his tail. A fox's tail tells his tale! We fox folk all have telltale tails!"
       "Excellent!" said Larissa. "You're a poet, Bea!"
       Bea blushed a blush so purpley-red that Larissa could see it right through the soft fur covering her face.
       "Whatever…" muttered the defeated Reggie.
       "Right!" yelped the triumphant Bea. "And another thing! I'm going to give you a good nipping if you don't stop saying 'supposedly' every two seconds about all these truly true fox facts we're teaching Larissa!"
       "Right!" chimed Larissa.
       Reggie shook his head as if he wearied of their childish disregard of the authority of scholarship (so well represented in himself, he thought, proudly).  
       "Well then," he continued, in a somewhat annoyed tone, "dipping deeper into the endless barrel of unverifiable foxlore … let's discuss 'fates and badges'."
       "Oh, good!" said Bea. "You'll want to watch out for these when you start mixing and mingling with the other foxes – the ones less boring than me and Reggie.  Neither of us has a single fate nor a badge between us.  Can you believe how boring that makes us?!"
        Larissa, befuddled by Bea's seemingly sincere melancholy over being doomed to a "fate"-less and "badge"-less marriage, looked to Reggie for clarification in the matter.
        "Fates and badges," explained Reggie, "are distinct markings in different colors and shapes that are sometimes visible on foxes' tails.  Some are seen better in bright sunlight, some in the dark, some only by moonlight.  There might be just one such marking, or a few similar, or a few but all different – or even a whole mosaic of interwoven markings looking like interlocking tattoos covering every inch of the fox's tail.  But that's rare.  Some of these markings become visible shortly after birth. They are called 'fates."  Because according to foxlore, they indicate things to come in the future of the 'fated fox' that he or she will have no power to avoid.  There's no end to the catalog of these fates: the broken-hearted, the outcast, the wanderer, the friendless…"
     "But!" interrupted Bea, "also good ones! Like the lucky-charmed, the gem-finder, the trailblazer, the riddle-solver!"
     "OK, OK," said Reggie. "They're not all doom and gloom, but you get the picture. Poor foxes labeled this, that or the other because of a silly birthmark in their fur that supposed to mean some silly thing."
     "There's that word again, Reggie, warned Bea.
     "Right, right," said Reggie.
     "Those are the fates," said Larissa, totally entranced with this mysterious lore. "What are the badges?"
     "Badges," explained Reggie, are markings that can appear anytime later in life.  For those who believe these markings have some definite meaning – foxes like Bea – the markings are suppo-, well, they are caused by events in a fox's life, by a fox's decisions and actions, rather than being simply a fox's fate predetermined at birth. These 'badges' mark a fox as being a thief, or a 'betrayer', or a coward, or even a murderer – though I've never seen the 'mark of the murderer' on any foxtail ever… and don't let Bea tell you she has-"
       "But I have!" yelped Bea.
       "Because she has a very vivid imagination, and I think sometimes she mixes up things she's seen in dreams with things she's seen when she's awake.
       "Tell her about some of the good badges – that is, when you're done slandering your dear wife," pouted Bea.
       "There are," Reggie continued, "the badges of valor, bravery and courage, as well as badges for having succeeded when faced with some grand challenge or test in one's life-"
       "The best one, Reg!" cried Bea. "Tell Larissa the best badge!"
       "I don't know which one you mean, Bea."
       "Oh yes you do!  The one I keep watching for – in vain! – to appear on your handsome tail!"
       Reggie winced. Bea giggled. Larissa tried not to be too obviously enjoying Reggie's comical discomfort.
     "Oh, that one," said the uncomfortable fox. "It's called the 'heart's-heart' and it is said to appear as looking like one heart inside of another. It appears only on a fox-fellow's tail when he is truly in love with the lady fox to whom he has sworn his undying love. This bit of foxlore is a bit murky in that sometimes it is said that the 'heart's-heart' badge appears when a fox falls in love, sometimes it is said to appear when he declares his love to his lady, or it could be only when he proposes a marriage union with her. In any case, by this mark, the lady fox is sure of his sincerity. Sometimes, it is said, it appears later in a marriage – or even after the lady in question has exited a fox-fellow's life – because it only appears when he realizes she is the one he was always fated to be with."
      "So," said Larissa. "It can kinda be like a fate as well as a badge."
      "Yes," Reggie agreed. "The only one I now that's like that."
      "Now!" yelped Bea. "Ask Reggie to show you that badge on his tail!"
      Larissa looked to Reggie expectantly.
      It was poor badge-less Reggie's turn to blush.
      "Which only proves," he finally blurted out, "that all this fates and badges nonsense is just that – nonsense! Utter nonsense!"
      Bea winked at Larissa. "Sure sounds defensive, don'cha think?"
      Bea's laughter was infectious, making Larissa laugh along with her, even though she worried Bea was needling her husband just a little too much. She worried Reggie might decide to end his lecture on foxtails, which was, of course, exactly what happened.
      "That's enough for today on foxtail silliness," Reggie said. "New topic."
      "No, no, no!" protested Bea. "At least tell Larissa some of the rhymes.  
      "There are rhymes to know about foxtails?!" asked Larissa, excitedly grabbing Reggie's furry paws with both her hands.
      "Oh, yes," said Bea, "and they are important for your safety!  You're not going to withhold important information Larissa needs to protect herself, now are you, dear husband?"
      Reggie scowled at Bea for just an instant.  But then he coughed to clear his throat, Larissa released his paws, and he once again restarted his lesson in foxtails.
      "When there are certain fur colorings present on a fox's tail, it's important to notice if any of them are touching.  The general consensus is that they have special meanings.  For example, black touches white…"
      "This fox is all right!" yelped Bea.
      "Black touches white, this fox is all right. Got it!" said Larissa.
      Reggie continued.  "Black touches red…"
      "Beware what is said!" yelped Bea. "Ooh, Larissa, that means the fox is a gossip! He'll betray all your secrets that you tell him in confidence!"
      "As if that weren't true of ninety-five percent of all fox folk!" snorted Reggie.
      "Black touches red, beware what is said. Got it!" repeated Larissa.
      "OK, this one is kind of important," said Reggie. "Red touches white…"
      "Get ready for a fight!" yelped Bea. "Never argue with a fox with those colors touching on his tail, Larissa! You might get a nip!"
      "Red touches white, get ready for a fight. Got it!" said Larissa.
      "And that's all for today, Larissa," said Reggie. "We've not even met the Princesses and you two have already got me feeling just about exhausted."
      "Such a baby!" Bea whispered to Larissa.
      "And, anyway," said Reggie. "Most foxes have tails like Bea's and mine.  Just a couple of rings to tell a little about where we come from and what season we were born in.  And our lifelines aren't even visible unless you look really, really closely in the brightest sunlight."
      "But I have been seeing all sorts of tails today, in all sorts of colors and having all sorts of badges and fates!" said Larissa.
      Bea's laughter was like a burst of cannon fire. "Of course you have! Because you're in the city!  Where all the really interesting foxes with adventuresome lives end up eventually!  The real characters!  Reggie and I and the fox folk back in Radiance are just your average country fox folk."
      "Uh-uh, Bea," said Reggie. "Typical country fox folk, not average…"
      Bea nudged Larissa. "See, dear. You can teach an old fox new things!"
      "But Bea's right," said Reggie. "You might start noticing and, uh, as we call it, reading the foxtails of some of the colorful characters you meet here in Athena, the Capitol City."
      "I'll be looking!" said Larissa – just as the hidden "wall-door" swung open and Lord Chamberlain swept back into the room like a one-fox whirlwind.
      "And now, Ladies and gentleman – the Council Princesses are ready to receive you!  Follow me – guickly!"
      And he pirouetted round grandly and strode forth back into the great hallway, with Reggie, Bea and Larissa stepping quickly to keep up with him.  Reynard's massive fluffy tail bounced side to side, rhythmically, just in front of their faces. Larissa marveled at the rows and rows of intricately woven braids running the length of the Lord Chamberlain's tail, with each braid sporting a colorful ribbon. She wondered if they were merely decorative –just for show – or if they were some sort of awards – like a general might wear on his uniform.  And then she noticed the one other thing.  In the mosaic of subtle colors that played over every inch of Reynard's tail fur, she saw that, in several places, black fur definitely met red fur…
      My first "read," she thought, proudly.