The Fox Prince

There was a fox prince in Bonesetti. He owned riches beyond compare: socks spun from gold, koi fish that sparkled with jeweled scales, lush maze gardens, and pinwheel trees whose fronds twirled in the breeze.

The fox prince studied ancient texts in his enchanted tower. He poured over a particular tome, holding his gem encrusted magnifying glass close to the yellowed page.

This weathered tome's secrets had eluded the fox prince for centuries. He knew over 12,000 languages, twenty-two of them extinct, and fifty of them pictograms. Vast libraries and learned scholars were at his fingertips, yet this one tome's scribbling could not be cracked. Not by the fox prince, and not by his men.

"Bah!", yelled the fox prince. He threw down the magnifying glass and strode to the window. He watched the swirling orange and peach colored clouds on the horizon and thought of the lives he'd led: the masked highway robber known as Le Vulp; the first great fox alchemist; and the painter/poet Red Ear. The fox prince had been to the Lands Of Marzipan and had sailed the Tranquil Seas.

Those lives seemed so faraway, like a dream. Now he was an old fox, measuring each sunset and moonrise. He had to unlock the riches of the Chimerean Texts. This book held the secret to extending his already lengthy life.

Its language was rich and unlike any other. Thus far it was the sole alphabet he had been incapable of decoding. Frustration met him at every turn. He was running out of time and options.

The fox prince sighed and left the window. He approached a gaudy jeweled full-length mirror. His deep red pelt was still glossy. Though he had a bit of a pot belly now, he was still trimmer than most foxes three times younger than he. The fox prince swished his tail dramatically, and noticed a fine sprig of silver hairs. An unwelcome reminder that he wasn't getting any younger.

A knocking issued from the door. The fox prince spun around and smoothed his fur with slender black finger claws. "Come in."

The door opened, revealing one of his many basset butlers. The butler bowed grandiosely, keeping his eyes averted as dictated by custom. "Your royal highness, a gentleman here to see you who claims to know the language of the tome."

The fox prince raise his brow. "Send him in, Bowser. Good boy."

Bowser the basset butler's tail wagged modestly as he stepped aside. A dashing young red fox trotted into the room. He wore a black sash pinned with a silver runic medallion. His green eyes glittered with the passion of a full life. Bowser shut the door behind the dashing young fox.

The fox prince stared, but the dashing young fox did not bow. In fact, the young fox boldly looked him in the eye and winked.

"And just who are you, my rude young fox?", asked the fox prince.

"My good sir, I mean no disrespect. I simply have a nervous tick and therefore cannot avert my eyes, nor can I bow because of a bad back."

The fox prince knew when he was being teased. He kept his demeanor unfazed.

The young fox continued, "My good sir, I am known by many names. My favorite is Flightless Rogue. It suits me well." The young fox grinned toothily and hopped onto the table, sitting cross-legged.

The fox prince raised a graying brow. He snorted, but said nothing. Who was this Flightless Rogue? How dare he waltz in so uncouthly? There was something familiar about the young fox, something the fox prince couldn't pinpoint. This familiarity did not excuse his lack of politeness.

"You know of that which I seek?", worded the fox prince carefully.

Flightless Rogue laughed aloud, his sharp teeth gleaming in the ruddy light of the fire spheres. The young fox fixed his gaze directly at the fox prince's face. "I know of that which you seek."

The fox prince prodded, "Which is?"

Flightless Rogue suddenly stood up on the table and kicked aside the fox prince's manuscripts. The ancient text fell to the floor. "That which you seek is not found in dusty old books, my good sir."

The fox prince growled and threw himself on his treasured tome. He glowered up at the young fox. How dare this insolent kit toy with him so?

Flightless Rogue cocked his head and smiled down on the fox prince, a smile of both pity and compassion.

The fox prince would have no more of this. He sprang up and swiped his finger claws at Flightless Rogue's ankles, knocking the young fox off balance. The young fox, rather than sprawling on the table, fell forward onto the fox prince!

Both lay on the ornately-tiled floor for three breaths. Flightless Rogue stared into the fox prince's eyes, and he brought his plumper black finger claws up to caress the side of the fox prince's muzzle.

Enraged and excited, the fox prince pushed the kit away and stood up. He placed a booted foot against Flightless Rogue's chest and glared down at his grinning, carefree face. There was something so familiar about this young fox. "Just who do you think you are, you rude kit?"

Flightless Rogue laughed aloud and winked. "Why I'm you, of course."

The fox prince frowned. "Bah! I'm tired of you toying with me."

"I speak the truth," Flightless Rogue stated, "I know that which you seek, and it's not about a mysterious codex. It's something you must live, not read."

The fox prince released his boothold on the young fox and watched as Flightless Rogue resumed his cross-legged position on the table.

"Continue," stated the fox prince. He sat opposite the young fox in an oversized oak chair piled high with cobalt and violet pillows.

Flightless Rogue cocked his head and smiled slyly, sharp canines peeking beyond his black lips. “Take a moment to consider your long life. The language of the tome is the in between spaces of that life. Of life itself. A kind of blue print.”

The young fox continued, “This blueprint is something we each carry, as unique as our nose print. It is that voice in the back of our head that tells us when something is wrong or right, or when to breathe and just believe.”

The fox prince rubbed his temple. Was Flightless Rogue deranged? Was the young fox a childish fool? A hopeless dreamer? Still, the fox prince listened.

“We don’t follow our blueprints often enough. Our minds constantly chatter like Antenian Chittering Weevils. Then, should we become aware of the blueprints‘ existence, we drive ourselves into a tizzy trying to dissect them, to learn their meaning, to know the how’s and the why’s, until we’ve worn the blueprints to nothing.”

“And you’re implying I’m doing this with the Chimerean Texts? But how can these texts be inside of me, a part of me, when they are lying on the floor just there?” The fox prince jerked a taloned thumb to the floor beside the table.

“But, my dear prince, are they?”

Hesitantly the fox prince looked over to the floor, and the papers were gone. He sprang to his feet and looked about, but the manuscripts were nowhere. Incredulous, he stalked toward Flightless Rogue. Though old, the fox prince looked fierce. “What have you done with them?”

“With what?”

“Don’t trifle with me, young fox. Thus far I’ve heard you out, but do not cross me!” The fox prince’s eyes glistened with anger.

“Whoa, whoa, no need to get testy,” started Flightless Rogue. The young fox motioned for the fox prince to sit back down.

The fox prince surprised himself by slumping back into his chair and staring quietly, albeit sharply, at the young fox.

Flightless Rogue slipped from the table to the fox prince’s feet. He pulled the prince’s supple leather boots off and massaged his feet. Once more the fox prince surprised himself by allowing the young fox to touch him in such a way.

The young Rogue smiled to himself. He felt the old fox relax under his deft fingers.

“You know,” began Flightless Rogue, “the harder we dissect the blueprints, the more complicated and elusive they become. Soon they become vast tomes of gobbledygook, indiscernible to even the most learned scholars.”

“So don’t try to learn?” Asked the fox prince, murring from the massage.

“Always seek knowledge, but know that faith can’t be learned in books.”

The fox prince arched an eyebrow. “And who are you to proclaim this with such certainty?”

Suddenly the Flightless Rogue sprang to the open window. He held out his paw, palm-upwards, to the fox prince. “Come, I’ll show you the truth of what I speak.”

Though doubtful, the fox prince couldn’t help but feel a small ripple of amusement. He rose and joined the Flightless Rogue, placing his paw in the other’s grasp.

“Now then, here we go!” Before the fox prince could react the Flightless Rogue leapt from the window, firmly pulling the fox prince after him.

The two foxes fell fast through the air. The fox prince’s heart thundered in his chest and he winced as the ground rushed to meet him. The fox prince’s life had been a ruse. He had wasted his time hunting for answers rather than living. He closed his eyes, expecting pain and release.

No impact came. The Flightless Rogue’s chuckling chimed through the air. The fox prince opened one eye, then the other. They both were falling still, though more slowly. Surrounding them were thin pink clouds of cotton candy. The Flightless Rogue reached out and deftly plucked some of the cotton candy cloud and nibbled at it. “You really should try some, it’s quite good.”

The fox prince was about to snap at the young fox out of pure frustration when they both landed with a thud on a wooden deck.

Stunned, the fox prince lay there gathering his orientation. Tan wood planks stretched in every direction. A ship’s wheel stood to the left. An octopoidal captain manned the wheel. Three long, suckered arms gripped the brass wheel handles while two other arms stuffed and lit his dignified bowl pipe. The octopoidal captain had a long white mustache curled meticulously at the ends. A monacle magnified one of his gray eyes, and a black eye patch covered the other.

The fox prince stood up and brushed himself off, the Flightless Rogue temporarily forgotten.

Everyone in this kingdom knew the fox prince, and this ship’s captain would be no exception. The fox prince would introduce himself and ask to be taken home. Once there he would pay the captain a fair reward and lock up that damned Flightless Rogue, who’d nearly killed him.

The fox prince approached the captain. He expected the captain to kneel, but instead the captain’s monacle popped out in surprise!

“It’s the One! Every man to the deck!” bellowed the captain, five suckered limbs waving frantically in the air. One tentacle still gripped the pipe, and three still held fast to the ship’s wheel.

Confused, the fox prince backed up quickly and promptly tripped over some ropes. He sprawled on the deck but recovered quickly. The rope that had tripped him was nowhere to be seen. The fox prince glanced behind him… and up, and up!

There coiled a tall, well-muscled electric eel. So it hadn’t been rope that tripped him. The glistening eel slitted it’s eyes and glared venomously at the fox prince.

A bipedal, dull-eyed hammerhead shark with the tattoo of a heart that read Mom in it’s center advanced on the fox prince. The eel loomed over the fox prince, keeping him from running away.

“I say, don’t any of you know who I am?” the fox prince yelled in desperation.

The Flightless Rogue must have jumped ship, the bastard.

“Aye, o’ course we know who yew are!” barked the octopoidal captain. A bright orange starfish had replaced his position at the wheel. The captain slithered nearer and peered at the fox prince with an eye the size of a porthole window.

"Yew, funny furry red thing, are part o' the end. The end!" The captain shook six tentacles above his bulbous head dramatically.

The end? What was this jelly head babbling on about? The fox prince had no choice but to listen.

"We were told o' yer coming by the Great Space Poodle. Her wise yapping foretold o' the funny furry red one fallin' from the sky.
"The funny furry red one, whose presence means the heaven an' the earth will reverse!
"This'll mean chaos! Everyone, everything'll die!"

Where am I? wondered the fox prince.

"So, we'll just have to take care o' yew before anyone else knows yer here." The octopoidal captain nodded to the eel and to the hammerhead. The hammerhead cracked his knuckles swung, bowlegged, toward the fox prince. The eel hissed a laugh and watched as the shark raised both meaty fists above the fox’s head.

"Fox Prince! Quickly!" The Flightless Rogue called from the ship's mast. The young fox had shimmied up the pole earlier and hidden amongst the netting.

Without a moment to spare, the fox prince dashed from under the shark's aim and raced for the mast. The hammerhead, slow to react, brought down his fists on the deck where the prince had been. The wood planks splintered, and the shark toppled forward into the hole of his own making with a dumbfounded expression.

The Flightless Rogue pulled the fox prince up by the arm. "We have to climb up as fast as we can!" said the Rogue. The eel stared up at them angrily, lamenting his lack of limbs for climbing.

"Boys, now we won't be mentionin' this to the Great Space Poodle, y’hear?" The octopoidal captain muttered as the hammerhead pulled himself from the hole and the eel joined them in a rousing game of oyster, mollusk, roe.

The foxes climbed the pole, which seemed to spire forever. Once the ship below had vanished from sight, the Flightless Rogue trotted out onto the wispy yet buoyant surface of saccharine mist. The fox prince looked skeptical, and stretched out a toe to test the cotton candy cloud. Remarkably it remained as solid as it had for the Flightless Rogue.

The Flightless Rogue took of running. In three breaths he had disappeared into a veil of pink fog. The fox prince cursed and let go of the solid mast, trusting the clouds to fully support him.

This wasn't so bad. The fox prince twirled, took a few steps, and even stooped to nibble a piece of the cotton candy cloud. He was still fully supported. Taking a deep breath, he took off running after the Flightless Rogue…

And fell through the clouds in mid-stride.

The fox prince plummeted through cotton-soft sugar-spun vapors. Then the directions shifted. He was falling up. And he was increasing in speed. The wind whipped through his ruddy fur and he had to squint.

Then he popped above the clouds into a vast emptiness of blackness and stars. The fox prince's velocity ended abruptly. The fox drifted weightlessly in the void. It was silent here. No, it was the very absence of noise. It was the absence of all but himself.

The fox prince curled into a fetal position while slowly spinning end-over-end. He knew not where he was, nor who this Flightless Rogue who had led him here was, but the prince was anything but a fool. He had been led to the greatest treasure of all: himself.