literature

Fox 031: Walking With Fox

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Published: Jul 6, 2012

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_{[AN: This is the thirty-first in the Fox Tale series. Please read them in order.]} _{[Creative property of Lady Quindecim]} Page Thirty One: Walking With Fox I put away my drums and gathered by books, all the while thinking about my all-to-easy promise to have two costumes ready in a few days on top of everything else. Oh, I wanted to. I wanted to show off my wit and creativity and costume making skills... if only I had wit and creativity and costume making skills. I shouldered my backpack and headed towards the exit thinking about what I could possibly wear. Once outside, though I came up short behind the school, finding Fox leaned against the wall. She said "Hi," while I was still digesting that she was even there. "Oh, Hi there." She stood and added, "You walk this way, right?" So, she did know I was behind her last Thursday. "Yep," and we fell into step, walking side by side. We walked on, talking about everything, and nothing. We talked about our friends; how James is in choir with a stutter, about Ginger and Mary Ann's backwards names, and about Cody and Keith, and Brad and Brian. I asked why in the world she was not in band when so many of her friends were and she said she gave it up for theater. "For acting?" "Mmm... no," she smiled, "Not exactly. You brought your lunch, though." "Yeah, that is more what I am used to, I just... Oh! and you probably saved me a-" She laughed and blushed. "This morning, I saw that you brought your lunch. No raspberry muffins were wasted." We reached that part of the park where we take the narrow path that connects the two sides and as our steps slowed, we stepped closer together. I thought about how, had this been Mags beside me, she probably would have taken my hand, or put her arm through mine. But I also thought about how while she would do that, I would be wishing that is was Fox's hand I was holding. I couldn't, though, just reach out and take hers. It would not mean the same thing to me that it means to Mags. It is not my thing, just casually holding hands, kissing, even just hugging the way she does. We had said nothing since on this path and then we reached the trail that leads off through the cemetery. I stopped, not really wanting to say goodbye. We had been talking so casually after last week, not being able to get out more than a word or two. She stopped too and we turned to face each other. I knew I could follow her. Cutting through that direction would not add more than maybe ten minutes or so to my walk, but through there was intimacy. Through there was where I had found her, saw her naked, but even more intimate still, I read her skin. I couldn't follow, not yet. I wanted to hold on to her, to make the moment last and last. She was precious to me. I wanted just to give her a hug, wishing she would hug me, let me know that it would be okay; just that little affection. I may have moved a little in my uncertainty fighting with my- I don't know what. She looked like she was going to take a step towards me, but no, maybe she was just going to turn to go down the trail. maybe I was holding her up, making her think I was about to say something and she was being polite. Maybe I would annoy her. But our eyes met and I had to look down. I was looking somewhere between our feet; mine of which seemed to scoot ever so slightly towards hers of their own, brave vallition. Then hers came closer to mine, in mirror of the foolish-brave step mine had taken. Then her hands - maybe they started to reach. I started to reach but she stopped, so I stopped too. My hands had some other ideas and they just kinda turned towards her. Maybe she just thought I wanted a hug and she thought she would be rude to ignore the gesture. Maybe she wanted to hug me, but feared I would not want her to. Oh, how I wanted her to. Awkwardly, jerkily, as two people who had only vaguely encountered hugs in some old manual somewhere with no illustrations or diagrams, we fumbled into an embrace. Once I had my arms around her, I did not want to ever let her go. I wanted the world to stop, frozen for all eternity with Fox in my arms. Leaves rustled and the breeze brought that fragrance of autumn woods. The scent of the trees blended with the smell of Fox's hair and clothes and I never would let myself forget the aroma for as long as I lived. But time passed and I knew my welcome would be wearing thin. This was lasting too long to be so casual. After one final, deep inhale of her scent and I loosened my hold. She tightened her arms around me and I heard her too take a breath against my jacket before letting go. I had not pushed her too far and was happy for that. If my face was half as radiant as hers as she told me goodnight, and turned to go home, it would have been more so than I have ever felt in my entire life. How hard can it be to not tell someone you like them? Very. ^{[You have been reading the thirty-first installment of the Fox Tale Series by Lady Quindecim.] [If you received this text from a source other than DeviantArt, please let the author know via e-mail to lady.quindecim@gmail.com] [I hope you have enjoyed this installment]}

This weeks is sort of short and sweet and kind of fun to write and re-visit. It is fun and relaxed -more or less- for DG as well with her mind not really playing tricks with people's words.

Sometimes, we, as people in general, need to calm our minds and listen to our own perceptions for guidance.

If this is the first one you are reading, by all means please stop and read the first one [link] first, then proceed in order, if you would be so kind.

And if you like it/them, let me know. If you do not, I would still like to know. If you are completely indifferent and do not feel it is worth your time to comment, that's okay, you can let me know that as well.

Part One: Fox at First Sight → [link] ←
Part Two: Foxy Lady → [link] ←
Part Three: Still a Fox → [link] ←
Part Four: Fellowship of the Fox → [link] ←
Part Five: Fox Free Period → [link] ←
Part Six: Fox, but not Forgotten → [link] ←
Part Seven: Fox Report → [link] ←
Part Eight: Fox in socks → [link] ←
Part Nine: Lingering Fox → [link] ←
Part Ten: Bargain with a Fox → [link] ←
Part Eleven: Speechless Fox → [link] ←
Part Twelve: Fox Filled Dreams → [link] ←
Part Thirteen: In a Box, With a Fox → [link] ←
Part Fourteen: Fox and Stone → [link] ←
Part Fifteen: Chef Fox & On the Spot → [link] ←
Part Sixteen: Fox Proud → [link] ←
Part Seventeen: Fox is Watching → [link] ←
Part Eighteen: Foxless Day? → [link] ←
Part Nineteen: Cornered Without a Fox → [link] ←
Part Twenty: A Fighting Fox → [link] ←
Part Twenty One: What Fox Can Never Know → [link] ←
Part Twenty Two: The Wounded Fox → [link] ←
Part Twenty Three: The True Fox → [link] ←
Part Twenty Four: Holding On To Fox → [link] ←
Part Twenty Five: A Box for Fox → [link] ←
Part Twenty Six: A Locked Box for Fox → [link] ←
Part Twenty Seven: Putting Fox Aside → [link] ←
Page Twenty Eight: The Fox Path → [link] ←
Page Twenty Nine: Fox Has Secrets → [link] ←
Page Thirty: Happy Fox → [link] ←
Page Thirty One: Walking With Fox → You are Here ←
Page Thirty Two: Fox’s Gift → [link] ←

If, for whatever reason, you want to use any of this/these, please check with me first.

As always, comments and feedback are welcome.

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