Week later only one of the cubs was still alive. Only one of the three brave enough to try and eat the meat he offered. They had been too young to start eating solid food, and he really didn’t have any knowledge how to teach them to eat. He had buried the dead cubs under the same fir as their mother.
Last of the cubs was a lively critter, getting on his nerves constantly. When it wasn’t trying to sneak out from the cave, it was chewing on his clothes or his toes. And his whole cave reeked of fox droppings. He tried to keep places clean, but it was impossible. As soon as he managed to throw out wet batch of sand, or small turds the cub kept producing, new ones would appear.
*Keep that up and you end up six feet under…* He growled. Cub looked up from where it sat hunched slightly forward. He could have sworn it was smirking. Unmistakable scent of urine wafted to his nose and cub yipped, sounding quite relieved, before it bounced off, probably to chew on the leather straps of his knapsack. He sighed tiredly, scooped up the soiled patch of sand and threw it out. It would probably be the best for both of them if he moved the cub back to fox cave before it wore down his nerves completely.
*Time to go, kid…* He murmured and scooped up the cub. It settled to the crook of his elbow, nuzzling against the thick fur and closed its eyes, falling to deep sleep before he had the time to step out from the cave.
At first each and every one of the cubs had been afraid, squealing and whining whenever he got close enough to touch them. Eventually the one on his lap had developed courage enough to actually explore his cave and finally even defend the other two cubs. Only female from the litter. It would probably make a good mother for her own cubs some day.
*Does it look familiar?* He asked when he laid the cub in front of the fox cave. It yipped and started bouncing around, taking in scents and sights. Suddenly it froze and high-pitched murmur bubbled from its chest. It was staring in to the night. Logan inhaled deeply. He couldn’t find anything out of place.
*What is it?* He asked, crouching next to the cub. Its whole body was stiff, every small muscle coiled and rigid, ready to bounce. He tried again. Nothing. Leaves, moss, pine… Small critters, insects, a deer little further from where they were. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Yet the cub kept spitting cusses and scraping the ground with its hind paws, ratty tail raised high up in the air. Suddenly it fell silent and crouched, back raised high up in the air, bottom jaw nearly scraping the ground. It took a giant leap in to the darkness. He bolted after it, dead on sure it had seen something threatening.
*Oh… Good cub. Good cub,* he grunted, feeling strangely proud. Cub was again growling, gigantic beetle trapped between its front paws.
*Need a hand?* He asked and reached for the beetle. It was just a beetle, but it was huge, and it had dangerous looking appendages jutting out from its jaws. Cub growled at him and crouched over its prey, eyes narrowing. He backed away. Watched when cub rolled the beetle upside down and crushed it by stepping on it before eating it. Cub would survive. Most likely it would survive.
For a moment he allowed himself to wallow in melancholy. Cub had been with him a week, out of necessity. He wouldn’t abandon it. It wasn’t skilled enough hunter yet; he would have to bring some food to it every day. Out of necessity. It had given him an escape from his own thoughts and doubts. Somebody to take care of. To keep him busy. He let out a low whine before he even realized it. Cub tilted its head and answered with a whine of its own.
*Yeah. This is your place now. I’ll come and see you tomorrow. Take care…* He murmured, resisting the urge to pet the cub.
Back at his own cave he cleaned up the cave and the entrance of it from the last traces of soiled sand and droppings before going down to creek. During the time he had spent with the cub he had kept his clothes stashed away to his knapsack after noticing how sharp teeth cubs had. His skin would heal, but he had no way to repair any damage they did to his only pair of trousers and shirt.
He could still smell the scent of fox on him. He walked to the shallow creek and lay down in the middle of it. Water was cold, but it felt good to scrub off muck and filth. Water got in to his ears and nose, and he bolted up, growling and sneezing, shaking off wetness that clung to his fur.
It didn’t take long to shake off last droplets of water. His fur was waterproof. He returned to the cave and took the shirt and trousers from the knapsack. Time to return to humanity again.
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