Welcome to the Wild Foxes drop. Here’s what you need to know.
Enter Wild Foxes. A new species has arrived. These Wild Foxes, and the Wild Thoughts accompanying them, introduce new characters and narrative possibilities to our world. It also reveals that foxes are stranger and more varied than we initially thought.
We are not alone. We had believed that all other skulks had died out. The presence of Wild Foxes illustrates that life exists beyond Shadowoods. Perhaps there are others? What else may our wider world – and its different realms – hold for us?
We are being hunted. Or at least, that is what one of our new arrivals believes. A Wild Fox brings a tale of woe – and a warning.
Solo thoughts remain a mystery. Even our new companions trail solo thoughts. What are these entities? To whom do they relate? The mystery remains unresolved.
At the edge of Shadowoods, a few members of our skulk meet the 10 voyagers. They look different than our kind, with shimmering coats of fur and unusually shaped heads. Around them, new thoughts swarm, not unlike those that hover around our foxes.
PICNIC, LIGHTNING
First, I must say this: welcome. Welcome, friends.
It is true, you do not look nor sound like us. Indeed, even your stench – or pardon me, scent – is distinct, powerful to our nostrils. We are used to our own kind, you see, so forgive those of us who briefly gagged. It was but a momentary reflex.
While we may have our differences, we see that you are, after all, kin. No less a part of Terra Volpa than us; no less a thinking fox, a cogitator on four legs. May I express my admiration for the manner in which your fur glimmers?
It is a ripple of color the likes of which I have not seen. We remember so little – and yet I sense that my mother (or perhaps her mother, let us regress ad infinitum) was one of you. I recall a shadowy maternal figure informing me that they were raised in a land of foxes whose coats flickered like gems. They must have been speaking of you.
Tell us. Who are you? How did you get here? Where have you traveled from?
AS LONG AS THERE’S LIGHT
We thank you for our welcome and
Do not be alarmed by our size or
Smell.
We have come from a far-land to be here
And worried our presence would not be
Well-received.
Have you heard of Stogai?
HANNIBAL
It is a name familiar to us – but beyond definition. A remnant of a past life. The remembrance of a dream.
AS LONG AS THERE’S LIGHT
It is more than a dream, kin.
It is, or was, our home.
A land beyond the Feral Range, beyond
Even the Great Schism that bisects our world.
We do not know how long we have been awake.
Do you?
Perhaps a year, a little more, though
Time feels like water, not stone. We cannot
Touch it.
We awoke in ruins.
Great constructions, reduced to rubble.
A library full of books, rotting, stinking,
Filled with maggots which
We ate.
Do not judge us,
There was no other food we could find.
Where have all the birds gone? And the
Voles and mice and even frogs who sing
So beautifully and taste as sour as unripe cherries.
We could find none in our land, which is
Why we look as thin as we do now.
Though we cannot be sure, we have divined that
Our ancestors were perhaps twice our size.
LAGUNA, LACUNA
That is a frightening prospect, given how you tower over us already. We bear bad news, I’m afraid. If it was your stomachs that led you here, they are confused. We have found little to eat. A clutch of berries from time to time and one afternoon an egg of uncertain providence which we shared between a thousand.
AS LONG AS THERE’S LIGHT
That is, indeed, bad news,
Though it was not the purpose of
Our visit.
In fact, perhaps you do not
Know, but upon our journey, we found a
River, not too far from here, in which
Fish have begun to swim again. We have
Been careful in our hunting – not too greedy –
So they may continue to flourish.
We journeyed here for a different reason:
We believe we are being hunted.
By what, I am not sure.
But I have felt it –
Sensed its presence around us.
In the entrails of our broken civilization
Something seemed to linger in the shadows,
Waiting for us to draw close.
I can not prove this, but I believe there were
More of our tribe once.
Indeed, I believe there
Were perhaps many more that set out upon
Our journey from Stogai.
I could not give
You names, nor could I describe their
Faces,
But I feel them somewhere. I feel
Them in their absence.
Something is eating at us, and perhaps has
Been for some time. When we walk into the
Shadows, when we stroll alone in the forest
When night falls like a cloak and separates
One of us from another, The Ellipsis hunts.
It is a beast with poison as well as fangs
We think.
Because at the moment it
Steals our kin it places a toxin in
The brains of those left behind,
A toxin that feasts on memory so
When morning comes
We have forgotten that there was
Once another that we called friend.
PICNIC LIGHTING
This is quite a claim, I must tell you.
HANNIBAL
Quite a claim.
AS LONG AS THERE’S LIGHT
I understand your skepticism.
Many of my skulk treated my
Theory with similar unease at
First.
And so I set to test it. For seven
Days, I did not sleep. As my skulk
Slumbered, I pinned my eyes open
With thorns and daubs
Of spitting-mud.
For six nights, I watched from
My patch of photic-moss and
Saw nothing. Some nights
I could scarcely breathe from
Exhaustion and great worms
Of color crawled
Across the surface of my vision.
But on the seventh night
At the hour at which the moon
Took on a color of
Blood,
I saw a flicker in the bushes.
And then –
A sudden movement across
The heads of the sleeping
Skulk as if someone had shone
A beam of light over them;
A light of no brightness and no
Color, a beam of blinding
Darkness.
Then, nothing.
For a long time
Nothing.
I had begun to believe my eyes
Had conjured it when the beam
Shone again and this time it
Landed on the body of one of our
Kin,
A young kit the name of which has
Been taken from me and,
Who began to melt into the
Earth as if he were a piece of
Rotting fruit sitting beneath
a baking sun.
I sprang from my bed and
Bolted as quickly as I could to
His sleeping, dissolving form.
As I drew closer I saw
That it was not a beam that hovered
Over him but a figure whose shape
Seemed to change and that I would
Describe to you as:
A circle of Terrifying Hunger,
A square of Vital Lifelessness,
A star of Absence.
It was a great UnFox,
Both kindred and alien
And as I approached the kit’s body,
Which was all but gone, it turned
Its no-head and stared its no-eyes
At me and without touching
Crushed a blow that knocked me
To the ground and sent me
At last, to sleep.
When I woke in the morning,
The kit was gone.
If you ask any others
Of my skulk, they will tell you
They remember nothing of the
them, a child of our very own.
And so I come to you,
My friends, my kin,
Who we have crossed
A world to find and ask:
What will we do?