The Day of Thunder

[Yuzuru Hoto-Hori]

Twenty years ago

The Fox stalks through the long grass, eyes intent on the prize. He is silent. A hunter in it's element.

The Crow pecks at the ground, unconcerned.

The Fox inches forward without a sound.

The Crow tilts it's head to one side, eyes to the right.

There is a moment of stillness and then the wind blows through the grass. Time appears to slow down. The brushy tail wiggles, The Fox pounces, gliding through the air. A beat of wings as the Fox lands. A chorus of growls and then a surprised yip.

A single feather floats down accompanied by a raucous cawing as the Crow alights on a nearby trellis and pears down at the Fox. To onlookers it would appear the Crow is laughing at the Fox's wounded pride and slightly bruised snout.



Ten years ago

The Fox sits watching the pond intently, as if trying to will the fish within to jump out and plate themselves before him.

High above the Crow circles, each revolution slightly lower than the one before.

The Fox shifts it's paws, tail swishing from the left to rest at his right.

With a final lazy dip of the wing the Crow accelerates, diving right at the unsuspecting Fox.

Once again time seems to slow, elongating the moment. The Crow swoops down on the Fox. There is a flurry of feathers and a series of growls and barks. The Fox sits back down, a black feather across the top of it's snout as it barks a laughing call. The Crow retreats, pride as damaged as it's tail feathers.



Three years ago

The Fox reclines on it's personal cushion beside the throne, yawning occasionally and nuzzling the Consort's leg for a pat.

Of the Crow there was no sign. Not even a single drifting feather.



A week ago

The Fox looks thoughtful and trots towards the door.