The fox squirmed under the bunny's gaze. Felix knew he couldn't hold it back anymore, even though it meant the true end. Those big ears twitched, waiting for his words. Oh, they’d been talking nonstop for countless seasons—whether winter struck or the scorching sun threatened them both. Sometimes, they didn’t say anything at all, letting actions scream louder than words as they strolled through the forest, hidden beneath leaves and circumstances, far from prying eyes.

Felix had first seen Bun as his lunch. That’s all she was at the start, he reminded himself. He had always been a solitary fox, avoiding the herd or any kind of reunion. His luxurious reddish-orange coat blended perfectly with the skirts of tall acacias, allowing him to move unseen—until he stumbled upon Bun.

Bun, with her endless chatter and glib speech. He didn’t know how she had convinced him to stay. Maybe he’d just been lonely. That feeling blossomed within him faster than he ever expected. Before Felix realized it, he needed the bunny. Not as a simple appetizer, but as a companion.

The fox prepared his internal confession, taking in the world around him. Everything felt sharper, more vivid—the way the light filtered through the trees, the damp earth beneath his paws, the sound of the wind carrying distant whispers. He searched for words beyond the typical three. Words had never been his strength. How could he explain the turmoil? The story? The dichotomy that gnawed at his mind? The need for closeness, the quiet delight he felt whenever she leaped and twirled through the forest, never still.

Before he could utter a single syllable, Bun spoke first.

“Don’t.”

Felix froze. The word echoed in his ears, and he didn’t move, though every fiber of his being screamed for him to take a step closer.

“Don’t do this,” she said, her voice steady.

Instead, he took a step back. His stomach dropped, making the truth crystal clear. She didn’t need to explain—she already had. It was wrong. And she would never, ever feel the same.

He felt like a fool. Roots might as well have sprung from his paws into the soft, humid ground beneath him, because as he watched her hop away, he knew. He knew he’d never see her again.