Chapter Text
It was the dead of Winter on Westside Island, where –about five miles outside of Emerald Hollow– smoke poured from the chimney of a quaint little farmhouse. Snow filled the air, slamming against the building with a frigid fury. It was only this morning when the snow began. Now, most of the island was covered in a thick blanket of white.
Inside, Vanilla the Rabbit stoked the fire, doing anything she could to avoid stepping outside for more fire wood.
The fire dwindled, slowly becoming nothing but a pile of red coals. The house wasn't built for this kind of extreme weather.
She shivered as the cold burrowed through the walls like termites.
Maybe it was a mistake, moving back home from the mainland so suddenly. She'd left in a hurry, and didn't get the time or money to find a more substantial residence. But with the baby on the way, she couldn't afford to stay in the city.
Vanilla shivered again.
The past didn't matter, she'd left that behind. Right now, she just needed to focus on staying warm.
The rabbit stood up, making her knees popped in complaint and made her way towards the door. There was no more putting it off, she was going to have to bite the bullet of getting more firewood from the porch.
She didn't remember the winters being this rough when she was a kid. Westside island usually had a pretty warm climate but this year's cold snap had been brutal so far. Maybe the El-Nino had something to do with it. She didn't know enough about that sort of thing to be sure.
Vanilla braced herself and opened the front door: the wind almost ripped it from her hands.
If she was going to make this whole farming thing work, she was certainly going to need to get more familiar with how the weather worked around here. She made a mental note to find a local library soon and do some research.
The rabbit hugged herself tightly as her breath turned to frost right in front of her, illuminated in the deceptively warm glow of the porchlight.
Vanilla put a bare paw on the deck and the cold her foot like an icy claw.
Shuffling toward the wood pile, she couldn't help but notice how the snow drifts were threatening to completely swallow the deck whole, like a rising tide of ice and snow.
Her eyebrows scrunched at the idea of having to shovel herself out come morning.
She hastily started to pick up as much wood as she could carry, so as to avoid any repeat trips. The less she could spend out there, the better.
As she pulled out one of the split logs, however, she spotted a hint of orange tucked in amongst the pile.
Strange... She moved another.
It was fur!
Quickly, she moved another log, followed by another. And there, motionless as the wood he was nestled in, a dirty orange fox cub was curled up inbetween the wooden stacks.
She gasped— the cold air stabbed at her lungs. She barely noticed.
“No, no no nononono,” she muttered under her breath.
Vanilla dropped the firewood in her arms. It all clattered loudly on the deck.
“Oh, please be ok, pleasebeok,pleasebeok,ple-" she desperately repeated to herself as she moved to lift the frozen kit.
Vanilla picked the little one up, but he was sickeningly stiff —her stomach twisted into knots.
She stuffed the fox under her sweater, picked up an armfull of firewood, and rushed back inside.
The icy touch of his body against hers was almost unbearable, but she held him tight in an effort to wark him.
Vanilla all but threw the wood at the fireplace, and rushed to her bedroom to grab as many blankets and pillows as she could carry, along with a small, ancient space heater.
She hadn't been using the heater because it was —frankly— as old as the hills and a substantial fire hazard. The entire front half of the metal casing was only held on by a single screw and the other three were missing. The half loosely hung with gravity if it wasn't sitting on a flat surface.
She grabbed it; now wasn't the time for an abundance of caution.
She ran back to the living room, grateful to see that the fire was already beginning to flicker back to life.
Dropping the bedding on the floor, Vanilla located an outlet on the wall and plugged in the heater.
She flicked a red switch on the chassis and watched.
The metal device made a few clicking noises as the heating element began to glow, and the fan lazily started to spin.
It put off a terrible burning smell —which was to be expected given the years of dust it had accumulated— but as long as there were no flames, it should be fine.
Satisfied by the lack of an immediate fire starting, she quickly —Ack! No! Big mistake… still very pregnant, still very much in pain— she slowly lowered herself to the floor, crisscross in front of the fire.
She took the chilled fox out of her sweater and looked him over, desperately looking for any sign of life. Her examination turned up positive as he let out a weak breath; The air in the house was still cold enough to make it visible.
Vanilla let out a breath of her own, relieved beyond measure to know he was, at least, alive.
It wasn't over yet, though. The kit was still unresponsive and worryingly stiff.
Vanilla grabbed a blanket and bunched it up under and around him. Positioning him on her lap, she grabbed another blanket and draped it over herself in a teepee shape, corralling the fox on the sides. She only left the side closest to the fireplace exposed to the air.
Taking both of his front paws in her own, she held on, letting the heat transfer. After a second, she let go. She quickly rubbed her paws together, and repeated the process with his feet.
After doing this a few times, she was satisfied that his paws —at least— were warm enough.
He was looking a little less stiff now, too.
Vanilla lifted him up and held the kit close to her body. His ears brushed her face; they were freezing.
The rabbit cringed, but she used one hand to hold his ears to her face, warming them, and the other to prop him up.
Thankfully, the wood she had thrown in the fire was really starting to catch now. The ambient temperature in the living room couldn't have been over sixty, but it was still leagues better than when there were only smoldering coals left.
The rusty old space heater was also managing to pull some weight, albeit not without being closely watched by the woman of the house.
Five minutes passed that felt like years. The pauses between each of the fox's breaths felt like an eternity. Slowly, though, they started coming at healthier pace.
The smell of soil and wilderness was becoming difficult to ignore the longer she held the boy. That scent, and the grimey texture of his fur made a strong case that the pup must have been living outside for a while.
It was a miracle he'd survived for as long as he had, seeing as it was already well into the colder months.
The kit still wasn't conscious yet, but Vanilla was satisfied that he was no longer on the verge of death. She moved to set the pup down on a blanket and—
—What the?
It must have escaped her notice when she rushed him inside, but she could swear that the kit had… two tails?
She rolled his limp body over a bit to confirm. And yes, he did indeed have a split at the base of his spine that branched off into two matted tails.
The room got a little colder with the realization that this could be the reason why the child was all alone. Vanilla's eyebrows knitted together with a frown.
Chaos, she hoped she was wrong.
She rolled him back over to face the old popcorn ceiling
Taking the blanket off of herself, she laid it gently over him, making sure he was close enough to the fireplace to stay warm without her help.
It was decided, he was definitely going to be staying for a while. But if the kit was staying, he was going to need a bath. It would probably do him some good too; it couldn't feel nice to be that filthy for so long.
After some struggling, she got up from the floor with a groan —the room seemed to spin slightly.
After the second it took to gain her footing, she managed to amble over to the spaceheater again and unplug it from the wall. It had served its purpose for now. The fireplace should be able to keep the room warm.
She shuffled toward the bathroom and prayed that the water heater was still functioning.
Two of the five lights came on over the vanity when she flicked the switch. —Not promising—
A frown once again stained on her tired face. She'd already changed those same bulbs yesterday!
guess I'll have to add ‘electrician’ to the 800 skills I'm going to have to learn, she thought to herself as she walked across the freezing tiles towards the tub.
Vanilla kept her fingers crossed as she pulled the hot water valve open. Keeping a hand in the icy stream, it seemed like the the water heater must be busted too —just like everything else in this good-for-nothing house.
Just as she was about to give up and shut the water off, it slowly started to warm up!
“Oh thank goodness,” the rabbit muttered to herself. At least she wouldn't have to add 'waterheater repair' to the list.
She ran a relatively shallow bath, keeping the water warm, but not hot. After shutting the water off, it was back to the living room to see if her guest was awake yet.
Disappointingly, the kit was still in the same place she left him with his eyes glued shut. Maybe it would be better this way, though. At least he wouldn't put up a fight.
She gingerly scooped him up and headed towards the bathroom again. Her heart stung as the boy started shivering when they moved away from the fire.
When they got to the tub, she carefully lowered him down into the warm water. The shivering stopped almost immediately and his body relaxed again.
She held his head up, out of the water so he wouldn't go under, and used another hand to reach for the bottle of detangling baby shampoo and a plastic cup on the rim of the tub.
Sitting the bottle beside her on the floor, the rabbit set to work scooping up water and pouring it over his filthy coat.
She started low, and slowly worked her way up so that the water wouldn't shock him.
Even without soap, dirt flowed from his unkempt fur like ink, revealing a brighter shade of orange underneath.
His soggy coat stuck closer to his skin each time water was poured, showing off his ribs and sunken figure. The room —once again— got colder than it already was.
Despite her best efforts, the fox stirred more and more with dousing. The waterfall that came over his head, though, was apparently the final straw.
The kit emitted a meek whimper before his eyes creaked open —only slits, but enough for two brilliant blue eyes to peak out. They locked on to the woman holding him almost immediately.
“Hey, sweetie. I'm just cleaning you up, ok?” She whispered softly, bracing herself in case he tried to run.
A dazed look remained on his face, but his eyes stayed fixed on her. “Mm,” was the only reply she received.
His muscles had tightened up a bit, but he must have still been pretty weak because he hardly moved a muscle while she scrubbed the mint scented shampoo into his fur. His eyes stayed warily fixed on her the whole time.
As she massaged the soap into his scalp and scratched behind his ears, his eyes shut, and a contented huff escaped his nose, much to Vanilla's satisfaction.
His face scrunched up, though, when she dumped more water over his head to rinse out the soap.
“Keep your eyes closed ok? I've just got to get that soap rinsed out,” the rabbit instructed.
He seemed to be a little more lucid when he reopened his eyes. But the look he was giving Vanilla made her wonder if that was a good thing.
The poor thing was clearly terrified. The unfamiliar environment seemed to finally be registering in the kit's brain. His eyes locked back onto Vanilla, fright replacing the unfocused confusion from moments prior. His eyes were wide open now, too, highlighting just how much his pupils had shrunk.
He was shaking –but not from the temperature.
“Hey bubba,” she kept her voice low and smooth, “I found you passed out in the snow outside. Figured you could use some warmth and a bath, huh?”
He stayed frozen.
“I promise I'm not going to hurt you, ok? You're totally safe, promise,” she said with a tired smile, doing her best to dissuade him from jumping up and running back out into the cold. Either it was working, or he was just still too weak to move.
“Can I just rinse this soap off of you real quick? I promise it won't hurt,” she added when he still didn't respond.
His eyes darted to the clear blue plastic cup she was holding, then back at her. The moment lasted for what felt like an eternity, until, finally, he gave a slow. Shaky nod.
Vanilla forced herself to move extra slowly, rinsing the soap off of his head, shoulders, chest, belly, back, and arms. She thought about asking to see his tails to give them a lathering, but decided against it when she saw the two –still terrified– eyes watching her anxiously.
Oh well, just sitting in the water had removed a lot of the dirt anyways. It could wait.
“See there? All done! Do you wanna get out of the water, now?”
The kit's gaze darted to the water he was sat in, like he just realized it was there. He nodded.
The rabbit started to reach out with both arms to pick up the boy but his eyes flashed with panic, and he scooted back against the far wall.
His movement was strained and weak, but determined.
“Hey– Hey,” she pleaded, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't hurt yourself, sweetie; you're still very weak.
I'm sorry, I should have asked if I could pick you up.
You could try to climb out yourself, but I'm worried you'd wind up hurting yourself. Also, I think the bathtub walls are liiittle too high for that, don't you?”
She held her arms out, but didn't reach any further.
“So come over here when you're ready and I can pick you up out of there, ok, baby?”
The pup's panic seemed to subside as his raised eyebrows lowered back down into a more subtle unease.
He took a moment, eyeing the white, porcelain walls like he was weighing his options. To Vanilla's confusion, he took a look down at his twin tails, and tried to lift them but he was unable to, as they were still weighed down with water.
Whatever he was planning, the idea seemed to vanish when his eyes caught the rabbit’s –like he forgot he was being watched.
Every uneasy, scared, move that the fox made felt like another vice clamp squeezing down on her chest, but she fought to keep a soft smile on her face.
The cub continued to scrutinize the rabbit's outstretched arms but eventually started to scoot forward. His eyes didn't dare move away for a second, like prey backed into a corner.
“Ok hun, can you lift up your arms and let me pull you out?”
He anxiously did as he was told and allowed her to scoop him up and place him on the bathmat. The kit couldn't hold himself up yet, and he sank all to the floor.
The boy shivered harder. The unheated room and tiles seemed to suck every ounce of newly found heat from his tiny body.
Shoot, Vanilla chastised herself. She should have thought to get that space heater before they came in here —or at least have a towel ready.
She had just gotten so preoccupied that she'd forgotten how cold it was. I still can't believe that lousy realtor glued a fake thermostat to the wall, Ugh.
“Oh, poor baby, I'm sorry it's so cold in here... Here,” —she grabbed a towel from the stack behind her— “do you want me to wrap this towel around you? She offered it, but didn't risk moving forward until she got the affirmative.
The boy didn't hesitate and nodded vigorously; his teeth were already starting to chatter.
She unfolded the towel and draped the blanket over the fox with a swift motion. The boy flinched, but didn't resist.
Vanilla stood up and approached the sink with a single wide step.
She reached up and grabbed an off-white hairdryer hanging on the wall, before crouching back down. She was and was about to explain what the device was and how she planned to use it to dry him off, but she didnt get the chance.
The pup already seemed to know what a hairdryer was, and he was not ok with it.
His towel was quickly discarded on the floor as he scrambled backwards to the nearest wall. He smashed his ears flat against his head, and whimpered profusely at the mere sight of the insideous appliance.
"OK, ok, its ok!
We don't have to use the hairdryer," she assured him.
A hint of genuine surprise emerged in the boy's eyes as he looked back up at her. He actually seemed shocked that she let him have a say in the matter.
All the same, the cold must have gotten to him again, seeing as he quickly crawled back to retrieve his towel —shielding himself from the freezing air.
Vanilla put the hair dryer back on the wall, accepting the fact that she would just have to work a little harder with the towel to get all the water off.
Or maybe she wouldn't, because when she looked back down, the little fox was already drying himself with it.
It was, admittedly, a bit of a surprise; the boy couldn't have been any older than two!
She didn't think that a kid that young would know how to use a towel. But maybe that was just because she hadn't had a kid herself yet.
—Yet another reason to make that trip to the library for parenting books.
She busied herself by letting the water out of the tub and washing any residual dirt down the drain while the kit finished ridding his coat of water.
"Alrighty," she annouced when the boy was finished, "let's wrap you up in a dry towel and we can go somewhere a little warmer. How does that sound?"
"...mm'k," the kit squeaked with the tiniest little voice she'd ever heard.
Vanilla's heart swelled at the adorable sound and her face softened impossibly further. Her pupils must've be dinner plates at this point.
She quickly grabbed the fluffiest dry towel and slowly bundled the little fox in it, doing her best not to startle him.
She hoisted him up but couldn't help but wince from the pain in her joints. Fox in her arms, she made her way back to the warm glow of the living room fireplace.
The whole time, the kit's eyes were still locked onto Vanilla'w face, carefully observing her every move.
She had a feeling that he wouldn't have agreed to being picked up if he felt able walk on his own.
Maybe it was selfish, but part of Vanilla was thankful that he still was too weak to stand up, because that gave her an excuse to carry him. This child was obviously in desperate need of some love and care, and Vanilla didn't at all mind being responsible for providing it.
Even though the air temerature was hardly over fifty-five in the living room, it was still a welcome contrast to the near-freezing air of the bathroom.
An orange glow from the fireplace flickered across the walls and furniture, giving the room a feeling of cozy warmth that made the cold less noticeable.
Vanilla stopped in front of the fireplace, stepping on the mess of blankets piled on the floor. She then lowered herself and the fox to the floor with a pained groan.
If the fire could put off a little more heat, sitting on the couch or even a rocking chair would have been a much more pleasent option. But as it was, the only way to not freeze was to sit on the floor.
As soon as she hit the carpet, the boy in her arms started squirming, intent on removing himself from her grasp.
“Ok, sweetie, hold on,” she sighed as she removed the white cloth. She was reluctant to let him go so soon, but was even more reluctant to make him more uncomfortable.
The kit skittered out of reach, but stayed within the fire’s warm embrace.
As the fire crackled, its dim light highlighted the child’s sunken figure.
He really was terribly skinny, like he hadn't eaten in days. He must have only been meeting the bare minimum to survive. His fur was patchy in places too, unkempt and frayed.
Vanilla couldn't help but notice the hairless scars around the very base of one of his tails. It looked like someone had tried to hack the off the appendage with scissors, but couldn't finish the job.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to know who the culprit was...
As if hearing her thoughts, the boy threw an orange tail around his body, hiding behind it entirely —save for his head.
The other tail, he kept neatly hidden in the shadows —purposefully, Vanilla thought.
She didn’t want to make the fox any more scared than he was, so after wordlessly handing him a blanket and wrapping one around herself, she refocused her gaze on the fire.
She didn't want him to feel scrutinized after all.
She still kept him in her peripherals, though, just in case.
Based on the pup's skittish behavior, she wouldn't put it past him to run back out into the night if she gave him an inch.
Five minutes or so passed before the mental image of fluffy, protruding ribs overrode any hopes of staying put.
"Hey, sugar. I'm getting kind of hungry, how about you?" Vanilla turned again to face the boy.
The pup's eyes looked back up at her —apparently, at some point, he'd finally given up staring at her to focus his attention on picking at his tail.
Now, though, upon hearing Vanilla's offer, he was staring again —dumbfounded. Like he was trying figure out if he'd heard correctly
She'd only offered him food! Was being shown kindness really that foreign for the little guy?
If her heart wasn't already shattered, Vanilla was sure it was now, seeing how the toddler's eyebrows tightened with cautious distrust.
Whatever he was thinking about her offer definitely wasn't good.
"n-no... thank you," he finally mumbled, sadly looking back down at the tail in his hands.
Listen here young man! You are clearly starving and need to eat SOMETHING! So quit acting like I'm going to poison you, because you're going to have some food whether you want it or not. —Is what she wanted to say.
But another look at the sadness on his face squashed that notion.
Maybe his fears weren't unfounded. If there was one thing she'd learned about people in her thirty-some-odd years on this planet, it was that an upsettingly large number of people were upsettingly cruel.
She eyed the pup, staring mournfully at the floor. She realized now, —he had definitely been burned before.
"O-ok, sweetie," she muttered back to him, finding it hard to keep her voice from wobbling.
Then, for what felt like the eighty-th time that night, Vanilla forced herself up off of the ground.
She handed the blanket that fell from her shoulders to the fox, who cautiously accepted. He gave it a sniff and deeming it safe, awkardly bunched it up around himself.
Vanilla hobbled to the kitchen; her knees ached from all the up and down.
Luckily the kitchen connected directly to the living room, so she had a direct line of sight to her fluffy guest.
Turning on the (thankfully working) lightswitch, she proceeded to the cabinets and reached up to grab something the kit might eat. Maybe she could get him to change his answer.
Vanilla cringed at the fact that there was no cabinet door between her and the canned goods.
The old door was badly damaged and needed to be replaced. She had went out and bought a new one (surprisingly difficult to find) which now sat leaning against the lower cabinetry, along with the accompanying hinges, screws, and screw driver on the countertop.
In her current state, actually replacing the door had proved to be far more difficult that she originally thought.
Three days ago, she had managed to take down the old door, but after climbing on top of the counter and wrestling to remove the broken slab of wood, she barely had the energy to get back down. And she certainly didnt have the energy to do the whole process in reverse.
—Now, the stinging her shoulder as she reached up was a reminder her of the mistake of not using a step-ladder.
She ignored the pain, though, and rifled through different cans of soups and vegetables until she found it.
Perfect. No one could resist a nice bowl of Spaghettarings. This variety even had meatballs!
Vanilla sat the cans down on the counter before giving a cursory glance back toward the living room. There, two –almost glowing— blue eyes stared back at her from the dimness. A little unnerving, sure, but as long as he wasn't trying to get out through a window or stick his hand in the fire, he could stare as much as he wanted.
She bent down and moved the new cabinet door out of the way with an annoyed frown, and opened the cabinet behind it. From there, she retrieved two ceramic bowls —one white and one orange.
Heh, I didn't even mean to do that, Vanilla thought as she turned the coincidencial colors over in her paws.
After grabbing two approprietly sized spoons from a drawer, she pealed open both cans and scooped out their contents.
Vanilla rested the spoons in the cans while she let the bowls microwave.
—It was important, though, to microwave one bowl at a time. Otherwise, the heat is divided between both dishes and it takes even longer than it does to just swap out the bowls. —a trick she picked up from simple experience.
As the microwave hummed, Vanilla moved to lean against the counter nearest the living room with a sigh. Even standing hurt at this point. But sitting and having to get back up again didn't seem worth it.
If she ever had another kid, she decided, she was definitely adopting.
Speaking of kid...
"Hey sweetheart, I just realized I never got your name," she mentioned with a tired smile,
"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, of course, but my name is Vanilla. Some people just call me Van, though."
The boy kind of twitched, like he just remembered he was a real physical being that could be addressed.
"oh... uh..." he stared at floor as if he was unsure about devulging such confidential information.
"my-uhls," he finally caved, "muh name's my-ls."
She, once again, had to try not to "awww" at his tiny voice, and only barely held herself back from scooping the little baby up into a big ol' bear hug.
—she stayed put.
"Well then, hello, Miles. It's very nice to meet you!" She cooed.
Before she could receive a response, the microwave dinged. She pushed herself away from the counter and shuffled back to microwave.
Using a rag that she got from a drawer, she reached up to grab the orange bowl.
"...i-it is?" A miniscule voice questioned from the living room.
"What's that, baby?" Vanilla called back, but received no answer.
Placing the orange bowl down, she quickly placed her own bowl in the microwave and set the timer for two minutes.
The rabbit strode back over to rest against the counter nearest the living room once more. "I'm sorry, what did you say, hun?"
The only answer she got was the awkward ambient hum of the microwave. She really wished he would respond, because she didn't like the implications of what she thought she heard.
The fox wasn't looking at her anymore, instead going back to picking at the uneven fur on his tail.
As much as she wanted to, Vanilla didn't push.
To her surprise, however, he eventually looked back up at her. "y-you said 'iss nice to meet me... ar you s-sure?" The boy asked, his deep blue eyes clouded with doubt.
"Oh, sugar. Of course I'm sure! Why would anyone not want to meet you?" Tell me where they live and I'll go bust their kneecaps in, her mind added silently.
The poor thing's face twisted with grief and —turning his face away— dramatically lifted both of his tails off the ground. Both bright orange appendages almost glowed with the reflected light of the fire.
Oh, yeah, she thought to herself.
Vanilla decided to play dumb.
"Hmm... is it because you're orange? I think orange is a nice color, personally," she said with a warm smile.
The pup looked back at her with the most dumbfounded look on his face. —Like she was the stupidest person on the face of the Earth.
She almost laughed at his expression, but kept her composure. "What, is that not it?" She asked sincerely.
"i-it... No!" It was the first time she heard his voice actually raise. "I haf two tails! I... i'm a...
a fweak..."
his voice petered out, as his eyes returned to the ground.
Vanilla tried to say something, but no words came out. It felt like anything that did come out would only turn her into a crying mess right there on the kitchen counter.
The microwave dinged.
Not knowing what else to do, she just went and retrieved the bowl of Spagetti-rings from the microwave.
She took both bowls of food to the living room. And sat them down on the bricks that extended in front of the fireplace.
"Hey... look up here."
‐The fox did as she asked.
Vanilla lowered herself down on her knees in front of Miles
"I don't believe that for a second. Extra tail or not, I think that you are a very sweet little boy who just needs some love and care.
And~ I think that boy could use some warm food, too." She moved his bowl in front of him —offering but not forcing.
"Be careful, it may still be a little hot."
He eyed the bowl of ring shaped noodles carefully, desperate for food but unwilling to risk betrayal.
Vanilla's smile dipped as the prospects of getting the pup to eat seemed to dwindle. Another invisible vice clamp squeezed down on her chest. She could almost feel their metal jaws stabbing into her fur.
She'd done all she could for now, though, so she just repositioned herself to sit cross-legged on the carpet and faced the fire again. Vanilla wrapped a discarded blanket around her waist and picked up her modest dinner.
Maybe she just needed to lead by example.
Or...
"You know what, I actually kinda like your bowl's color better... You wouldn't mind trading me, would you, hun?" The kit tilted his head curiously, but nodded to give her the go-ahead.
"Thank you sweetheart." She said, swapping their dishes.
Vanilla didn't waste time digging into her food. It wasn't entirely for show either, —she had skipped lunch.
Out of the corner of her eye, the fox studied the new white bowl, originally intended for Vanilla, now in front of him.
The gears turning in the little boy's head were almost audible, as he eyed the food with an intense concentration.
A full minute passed —or it felt like one, anyhow— before he carefully picked the bowl up. He cradled it like a bomb, ready to blow up in his face at any moment.
He sniffed it slowly and cautiously.
His stomach growled traitorously.
He put his snout to the bowl, and gingerly stuck out his toungue until it tapped the surface of the reddish-orange sauce.
He quickly retracted his toungue and stilled.
His big eyes shifted to the left and right, as if checking his internal systems.
Vanilla was sure that, if he weren't so hungry, he would have waited for an hour before deciding the food wasn't poisoned.
Clearly though, the desperation was breaking him, and he had decided it was good enough.
He dove in like a wild animal, demolishing the entire bowl of Spaghetti-rings in seconds. He totally ignored the spoon —Vanilla wasn't even sure he knew how to use it— and opted to coat his entire muzzle in tomato sauce as he licked the bowl clean.
The woman across from him couldn't contain herself, giggling hysterically at the absolute mess the kid made on his face.
She had to admit, she was pretty pleased with herself for getting the kit to eat —even if he'd totally stained her blankets and maybe carpet with tomato sauce.
"Honey-bun," she laughed, "you got a little something..." She gestured to her own muzzle with her spoon, "all over here."
Miles clearly didn't understand why she was so amused, but he crossed his eyes to get a better look at his nose.
"Oh," was all he said.
Vanilla was about to start the arduous task of getting up and fetching a wet rag to assist the toddler. Before she could, though, she snorted another laugh as the fox's tounge shot out and greedily lapped the residual sauce off of his muzzle.
Well, that's one way to do it! —was all she could think to herself while the kit wrapped his tounge around his snout for any remaining residue he could get ahold of.
It was, admittedly, a little gross, but also equally endearing.
But his incessant licking wasn't going to actually clean his face, so Vanilla went ahead with her plan to get up and get the pitiful thing a wet rag.
She groaned as she slowly stood. I may just have to sit on the recliner until the little guy falls asleep, she thought as another wave of dizziness set in. If I have to get off the floor one more time I'm going to fall and put a rabbit shaped hole my drywall. I am NOT adding drywall repair to the list.
After a second of steadying herself on the arm of the recliner, she retrieved a damp rag.
The rabbit knelt down in front of the fox, ignoring her body's weary protests. "Here baby, let me wipe that off ok?"
The kit fussed and moaned a bit, but didn't panic or try to flee this time. His complaints just sounded like annoyance more than anything.
She smiled, "There, that's a little better. *chuckle* It's still so stained, though, honey."
Vanilla lowered herself fully to the carpet to sit again —the effort of getting up to sit on the recliner no longer seemed worth it.
The pup's eyes went back to boring holes in her.
"What is it?" She asked sweetly.
"thas noh- my name..."
"What's not your name, honey?"
"Tha-! "huh-nee." thas wuh bees make. I seen em'! budd it's noh my name."
"Oh!" She realized.
She hadn't even noticed herself calling him that. It just came natural around him. Did it not to everyone else?
No— no, It must not have.
Vanilla ignored the sad anger clawing at her heart.
"Well that's what you call people that are important to you. People that are special: people you love, you know?" She smiled.
"luhv," he quietly tested the word out under his breath. It sounded foreign on his tounge.
The sound of it hit the rabbit's already destroyed heart like a 2‐ton truck.
The poor boy really hadn't had anyone, had he?
The kit spoke up again, in his normal, but still quiet voice. "whu does tha- meen?"
"Well," she cleared her throat to stop her voice from shaking, "love it the feeling you have for someone you care about. When you don't want anything bad to happen to that person. Like how I would never want anything bad to happen to you!" Her smile was weak, but sincere.
"oh..." was all he said in response —his eyes were wide with surprise. He turned to stare into the fireplace's flames, as if —behind his eyes— he was holding up the woman's words to the light to find any shred of dishonesty.
But he couldn't find any. "I... I like tha- word," he finally muttered.
The fox's eyelids were beginning to droop.
Vanilla looked into the flames with him. She was feeling quite worn out herself. Though she wasn't sure if it was the physical activity, the mixing pot of emotions she was feeling, or just the late hour that was the cause.
"Well, I'm getting pretty sleepy, and I'll bet you are too. I figure we ought to sleep here by the fire place tonight with how cold it is. What do you—"
Her eyes landed on the pup, already curled up in his nest of blanket. Soft snores eminated from the pile of orange fluff.
"Heh, yeah. That's what I thought," the rabbit whispered as she leaned over to lay another blanket over him. "Goodnight, sweet boy," she murmured, laying as gentle kiss on the top of his head.
And with that, she scooted back to her own nest of blankets, rolled over, and drifted off to sleep.
———
Vanilla woke up to the sensation of her own body shivering. The lack of any light in the room meant that the fire had went out overnight.
A press of the backlight button on her watch revealed the time —6:12 AM.
So much for sleeping in...
The faintest hint of early morning moonlight only revealed the silhouette of Miles's blanket cacoon. No movement, and no signs of shivering could be detected.
The kid's got a fuller coat than me, she considered, it has to be nearly freezing in here.
She wasn't going to let the temperature dip any further, though.
Vanilla's joints creaked and crackled as she rose to her feet. Sleeping on the floor definitely hadn't done her poor back any favors.
She felt her way to the door and grabbed a puffy, black, nylon coat off of the rack. Slipping it on, she carefully —and quietly— opened the door to go get more firewood.
It wasn't long before she was back inside, stacking the frozen logs on top of the hot coals.
Sluggishly, flames began licking up the sides of the wood, bringing back some much needed warmth and light.
It was still mind-numbingly cold and Vanilla could hardly feel her hands.
Maybe she ought to use the little space heater again, at least until the house stopped feeling like a meat locker.
Shuffling over to the device revealed something odd, barely visible in the dim light. —the front panel was no longer loose. Where there were once 3 missing screws that caused the entire panel to hinge, there were 3 mismatched screws filling the holes.
"what the—" she mouthed to herself.
The answer was obvious, but it still didn't make any sense. It had to have been Miles —he was the only other intelligent creature in the house— but the kid was two, tops. There was no way he could have done this!
She looked behind her, to check on Miles and ask him if he was responsible for fixing her heater.
A glance at the boy's blanket pile only left her more confused.
She'd expected to see at least some of his bright orange fur poking out as he slept, but there was none to speak of.
He must have burrowed deeper into his blankets because of the chill.
She went ahead and turned on the heater, and ambled over to the kit while fan blades lazily kicked into gear.
She just wanted to check and make sure he was alright.
Vanilla pulled back the blanket a little. Still nothing.
Her brow furrowed.
She pulled the blanket back further.
Miles wasn't there. He was gone.
A chill ran down Vanilla's spine.
—Panic—
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He left!
He's out in the snow.
He's dead!
He's frozen solid, dead, all alone, in the middle of the woods!
He's...
—No. Calm down, Van. He's got to be in the house still. He's probably just exploring. Little boys are curious, yeah that's it. Plus, you locked the doors, and he can't reach the locks. He's only a baby, so there's no way he could have opened a window, either.
Despite managing to calm herself a little bit, Vanilla searched the small house with the composure of a caffinated ricky squirrel.
Panic rose with every room she checked, and every unanswered, "Miles!"
She opened her closet —nothing. She checked the bathtub —nothing. She checked under the sofa —nothing
She was about to check the kitchen, but paused in front of the stove. There, to the right of the vent-hood, the missing cabinet door had been replaced!
Vanilla looked down where she'd leaned the replacement door against the lower cabinets —and sure enough— it was no longer there.
"how..." she whispered under her breath.
She shook her head. No, there's no time to wonder. She had to find him.
She checked the fridge —nothing. She checked the freezer, the oven, every single cabinet and even the drawers: nothing, nothing, NOTHING!
Vanilla wanted to scream.
She'd looked the entire house over thoroughly, but the kit just wasn't in there. She eased down on to the couch and drug her hands over her face. Think!
Ok, if he's smart enough to fix a heater, and install a whole dad-gum cabinet door overnight, than he can probably figure out how to unlock a door.
She rewound her memory back to when she went for firewood that morning. She retraced the steps in her mind— Putting on her coat, slipping on her boots.
She watched her past self grab the door handle and twist... It opened without her unlocking it.
Vanilla shouted a dismayed groan into her cupped hands.
Of course he wasn't going to stay! How could I be so stupid! No matter how much I wanted him to feel safe, he was still obviously terrified! The rabbit rushed to lace up her boots, oh, I'm such an IDIOT! Why didn't I watch him better, lock the doors better, anything! Now he's probably frozen solid in out there. Alone...
She grabbed a flashlight hanging by the door and stormed out into the early morning darkness. She didn't even bother to turn off the fire hazard whirring in the corner.
The beam of her light sparkled across the snow, but didn't reveal any paw-prints.
Light snowfall continued to flutter through the air, catching the light like glitter. It's eerie beauty was devastating. —Every flake that landed smashed another bit of hope for finding a set of tracks to help her locate the young fox.
It didn't matter.
Vanilla stormed through the snow like a locomotive. Every step was exhausting. The snow was over a foot thick, and every step had to reach at least that height.
"MILES!?"
"MILES!!!?"
In her mind's eye, she could see a familiar treeline a couple hundred yards away.
Out of all the directions the pup could have went, it made the most sense that he would head for the woods —they would provide the most shelter.
"MILES!" She continued to scream as she plowed through hundereds of feet of thick snow to the forest.
Vanilla didn't stop there —the idea that one more step might reveal a fox shaped shadow wouldn't let her.
She ferociously pushed on through the woods, making wide sweeps with her flashlight. Her light occasionally bounced off the retinas of wild deer, teasing her, before it revealed that the eyes didn't belong to the fox she was searching for.
"MILES!!!"
"PLEASE COME BACK!!!"
Vanilla shouted at the top of her lungs for hours, never once slowing. The holes her boots made in the snow left behind winding, snaking paths through the trees.
Tears streamed down her face and quickly turned into salty ice-cicles
The sun peered over the horizon and the trees started to cast long shadows, like icy fingers of death scratching their way across the snow.
Tears kept flowing down her muzzle. She could hardly move now, and her calves burned like hot irons. Her extremities felt like ice.
She looked around blearily, but couldn't tell where else she could search. Her tracks had already crossed over each other at every turn.
Vanilla had been walking in foot deep snow for far longer than any able-bodied people could bring themselves to —much less a pregnant woman.
"~miles..." she strained, her voice weak shaky.
That's it. He was gone.
The woman couldn't take another step. She tried to lift her aching leg, but the weight was too great
She collapsed to her knees.
"m- miles, she sobbed, collapsed in the snow on the forest floor, in the deafening winter quiet—
—alone.