You're just a little fox, lost and abandoned by your family. Maybe they were eaten by hawks, maybe they were run over by one of those great big thundering machines that sometimes drive past, you don't know. Maybe they just decided they were sick of you and left you out here to starve. You can't hunt for yourself, surely - you're barely big enough to leave the den on your own, never mind chase down prey.

Suddenly, you hear an odd sniffle, and an unfamiliar scent fills the air. Another fox, is it? But you've never seen any foxes around here, other than your parents. The other fox approaches. He is an older fellow, with a great long white beard. Do foxes have beards? You can't remember. Perhaps the heat is finally starting to get to you.

The old fox grabs you by the scruff and lugs you away, quite clumsily, you think, but maybe that's just how old foxes are. The movement makes your head feel foggy, and your eyes seem to close of their own volition.

When you next wake, you are in a little den, not much different from the one that housed you and your parents. There are six foxes there, three little ones and three adults, and they are all staring at you. It's kind of unnerving.