Mr. Fox brought his glass to his eyes as he read the daily Nature News.

His eyes bolted at the bold headline:

**FERAL DEER ON THE LOOSE! BE ON CAREFUL LOOKOUT! WATCH YOUR LITTLE ONES!**

Mr. Fox immediately started and gathered his young daughter, Foxy.

Foxy strode towards her father, her red fur was dark and beautiful.

“What is it, Papa?” She asked in her sweet voice.

“There has been…” Mr. Fox couldn’t think how to explain it, “…there was been a situation that is dangerous. I ask, my dear, that you stay inside when I am off and that you ask me when you wish to frolic in the back meadow.”

Foxy was curious, intrigued, but she saw in her father eyes how nervous and distressed he was.

She would do as her father said. She didn’t want to hurt her father even more. He was just starting to do better after her mother’s gruesome death.

In the comfy den, a small clock ticked noon. Mr. Fox got up with his briefcase and again went over his rules. Foxy nodded and pecked a little kiss on her father’s cheek.

“I love you, my dear.”

“Love you too, Papa.”

Outside, Mr. Fox saw Mrs. Crow watching from above.

“Good morning Mrs. Crow,” Mr. Fox said, lifting his hat.

“Good morning Mr. Fox!”

“Mrs. Crow may I ask you a favor?”

“Of course!”

“Could you please keep an eye on my dear Foxy.”

Mrs. Crow agreed with a sweet smile.

Foxy easily got bored. She finished reading her book and couldn’t help wanting to go explore outside. She remembered what her father said, but just one frolic outside couldn’t hurt.

With a prideful stride, Foxy went outside.

“Miss Foxy, I cannot let you go further than the fence,” Mrs. Crow said with a stern voice.

Foxy silently cursed.

Mrs. Crow was watching her.

She’d have to be sly; a sly fox was what she was best known for.

“Mrs. Crow,” she started, “I heard a small squeal a bit ago. I am worried it could be your little boy.”

Mrs. Crow immediately started flying, worried about her son.

Foxy smiled.

She went out to the meadow and followed the butterflies.

She laughed and smelt beautiful flowers.

Until a movement in the tall grass halted her play.

“Who’s there?” She said with a shake.

Suddenly she wished she’d follow her father’s orders.

“Please,” a deep, sickly voice begged. “Please help me.”

Slowly Foxy crept and found a deer, a young Buck, bloody and in anguish.

“They all thought I’ve gone mad, but I-I was hurt. Please help me,” the young Buck pleaded.

Foxy was amazed by the beauty of the beast.

He was not feral, but in pain.

“Sure, come with me,” she said sweetly.

The Buck got up and then darted towards her, with lethal rage and hunger.

Foxy ran and ran in fear.

He tricked her!

A tree branch caught Foxy’s leg and she could not run further.

“Please!” She begged.

The Buck stopped and smiled a playful smirk.

“Haha got you! It was a trick!” The Buck said laughing.