How is there no one here??

I edge my head over the cliff, looking down at the clear water. The air is scented with about five different floral notes, and they seem to swirl around the place.

“Hello?” I call out, but there is no voice in return. There’s got to be someone tending to all these gorgeous flowers. Or at least appreciating them.

I take a tiny pebble and drop it into the water, watching the ripples and silently hoping the motion will summon someone here. Still, there is no one.

I guess I have some time to kill.

Well, I’ve smelled every kind of flower twice, climbed the highest cliff face three times, and even took a small dip, (okay, actually technically I fell) into the clear pool of water, and now I’m drying off in a patch of sun on the rocks. I think I’ve decided that my favorite flowers are the pinkish orange ones, but the yellow ones smell delicious, almost citrusy, and—

“They’re my flowers.”

I almost fall into the water all over again. For some reason, my first instinct is to roll, and then the rocks hurt my back, so instead I rocket upward.

The only thing I see is a fox. And all it really does is look at me.

I look beyond the fox, by the cliffs and the water. “Who said that? Who are you? You can come out now!”

“I told you, they’re mine.”

I sigh and look at the fox. “Am I going crazy? Are these flowers making me high?”

The fox’s head shakes from side to side. “My flowers wouldn’t do that.”

The voice is clearly coming from the fox, but its mouth doesn’t move at all.

I shake my head and turn my head up to the sky. “Okay. I’ll bite. How are you talking to me right now and how are these your flowers?”

The fox sits on the rocks by the water, and I slowly follow behind, and then somehow I am sitting beside a fox in a flowery quarry.

“The flowers weren’t always here,” the fox says. “They came when I came. I’m the one who watches them and trims them when there are too many.” It eats one of the pink blossoms as a demonstration.

“And how did you come?” I ask.

Its bright green eyes turn to me. “How did you?”

I shrug. “I was just hiking. Trying to get away from everything for a while.” I find myself lying down on the rocks. “I wish I could stay here instead of going back.” That seems like enough exposition for me. “Now you answer my question.”

The fox lies down too, and looks into the water. “I wanted to get away, too.” Its nose twitches. “There were people crying my name and hiding their faces and I didn’t like that. So I came here instead. The flowers started to grow almost as soon as I arrived.” It licks its paw. “And that’s when I started being a fox.”

I try to understand. “You weren’t always a fox…”

“And now I will be. Forever.” The fox stands back up. “I don’t dislike it. I get to watch over the flowers and the water. But usually people don’t come. I haven’t seen people in a long time.”

I look out at the flowers and the water and the cliffs and the sky. “Can I come? I mean…I could come back. If you want a visitor.”

The fox seems to look happier. “And if you ever want to get away…”

We look at the water together. It’s only been a few hours, but I feel lighter. The scent of the flowers drifts beside us.

“I have to go back,” I finally say as I stand. “But I’ll come back here, soon.”

The fox seems content with this arrangement. “Good.”

I hike away from the cliffs and flowers and water, already thinking of when I will return.