Golden Bird, Red Fox: Chapter three

Braxton spent his next morning doing office work, but he did receive word from the newspaper on Ms. Trador’s disappearance. According to the delivered message, she had “talked of wizards being handsome young fools when an old man suddenly grew to a frightful height and conjured her to disappear along with him.” Coincidentally, the affair had taken place on the very street Braxton had visited the day before. But, payment was in order for the witnesses, and Braxton not only spent his morning writing checks in the dim light of his office, but the afternoon as well. It was all he could do to stay awake while his younger brother explained his fantasies about catching the bird.

Maybe if he exhausted himself, he could sleep through the night and not bother with any bird-catching business. But sleep came early for Braxton, and he awoke just in time for a light snack before sunset. Then, admonishing him, his mother shoved him out the door into the orchards.

In the orange light of evening, the palace looked grander than it deserved. White marble glowed against a fiery sky, and the windows reflected the sunset’s majesty on their faces. Thankfully, the reflection also blocked the sight of the palace’s not-so-befitting interior.

From a distance, the royal orchard looked normal. Its trees’ leaves were green and smooth, and their bark was hard and brown. It was only in certain lightings, or close-up that one could understand its value. Hanging from the branches of every tree were golden apples, not made of actual metal of course, but just as beautiful. They tasted awful unless cooked, but made for spectacular centerpieces when the family had company.

Braxton strolled into the trees, not plotting anything at all. It wasn't as if he cared enough to really try.

One leisurely stroll around the perimeter was enough time for the sun to set completely, allowing Braxton to look around freely without laying his eyes on the eyesore of a palace. He settled himself at the base of a tree that may or may not have been near the center and tried to fall asleep.

He tried.

He did not succeed. Five minutes into what should have been fitful sleep in the first place, a scratchy voice interrupted him.

“Ooh! You’re that princey fellow I met the other day, huh? I met your brother yesterday. Told him that the only way to catch a golden bird is to lure it with one of the golden apples, and that it has to be kept in a wooden cage.”

Braxton opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the lightless circumstances. Soft fur brushed against his right hand a few times before a weight settled beside him. Turning, Braxton vaguely caught the outline of a fox, its white-tipped tail swishing gracefully. “Oh, you’re the lunatic fox. I remember you.”

“A lunatic?” it snapped, “I assure you, My Liege, that I am not a lunatic”

“You’re an enchanted fox who needs a princess to rescue him. Great. Now leave.” Braxton shifted his position to better avoid an aching bum. Crossing his legs, he turned away to ignore the fox.

“You can’t ignore me, Prince,” it said, walking back into Braxton’s view, “Because I can help you. I can help you with probably anything regarding magic. Just say the word.”

Flipping his head back to its original direction, Braxton sighed and retorted, “What’s the catch?”

“Well, I’d like you to find a red-head who disappeared. It’s someone from that rosey estate who always helped me out.”

Narrowing his eyes, he turned back to the fox. “One of the missing Tradors? I wouldn’t mind helping you with that. But I’m still not going to accept your help in case you’re only lying to me.”

“Fine,” the fox pouted, “I’ll help you even though you don’t want me to. You can say that you didn’t actually ask for the favor, and so you don’t owe me anything. Be that way. I still want to help you. Just make a wooden cage, put a golden apple in it, and you’ll catch the bird easy-peasy.” Its tail swished angrily along the ground, ruffling the grass.

“Why not use a metal cage?” Braxton asked, “Certainly it would be stronger.”

Tsking, the fox faked a swipe at his sleeve. “You’re forgetting that it’s a golden bird. Gold is the ruler of all metals, so you obviously can’t keep it in a metal cage. Even a gold one wouldn’t be strong enough because the bird is alive.”

Even though he didn’t want to admit it, the fox’s reasoning was sound. Griping, Braxton stood up and reached into the tree branches for a good number of weak twigs before estimating the bird’s size and grabbing more. Ferrell’s feather hadn’t exactly been small.

“You’re a smart cookie,” the fox complimented, watching Braxton weave the branches into a makeshift cage. “Using branches from the golden apple trees is beyond brilliant.”

Braxton muttered a thank you, trying to concentrate on tying branches together without any light to clearly see it. His skilled hands fluttered through complex knots and splices, twisting into what felt like a cage shape. He spent a few minutes on a door and lock before holding it up for the fox. “Can you see it?” he asked, staring into the shadowy darkness.

“Ooh, very nice. Now you just need to put an apple inside of it and leave it in a tree. Do you trust my nose?” Oh good, the fox was still there.

“I trust your nose,” Braxton said, “whether or not I trust you is a different story.” He squinted in the dark, trying vainly to find the silhouette of a low-hanging apple. Once he thought he spotted one, he thrust his free hand up to feel for it.

“You’re getting warmer,” the fox chirped from Braxton’s right. “Warmer, warmer, oh, colder now. Go back and then forward.”

“I am walking forward,” Braxton muttered.

“Sorry, sidestep left. Oh, stop, stop!”

A smooth, waxy surface bumped against the prince’s hand, and he immediately groped for it again. Finally gaining a hold, Braxton jerked the apple down and knelt to place the cage on the ground. With two fingers, he felt for the makeshift latch holding the cage door in place and placed the apple on its floor, hoping the gaps were small enough to hold it.

“I applaud you, Prince,” the fox said, “your brother ignored me and scoffed, but you’re quite nice. Not to mention your handiwork. It’s exquisite! Like a sculpture but functional!”

Braxton, completely sure that the fox could see his face redden at the compliment, sniffed haughtily and hid his embarrassment with a turn of his cheek. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” he asked, voice dripping with sass, “And before I stub my toe on something, where’s a good place to put this?”

“It was a compliment. Just wait until morning; you’ll love what you see.” The fox stirred, making a soft rustling as it stood up and walked towards Braxton. “And this tree has a good branch for your cage. Lift it up above your head and then move forward.”

He did as he was told, feeling the telltale vibration of his cage catching on a sturdy branch. “Can I let go of it now?”

“Yes.”

Gently, Braxton lowered the cage until he was sure it was steady, then he let go and stepped back. “Okay, the trap is set. What do I do now?”

“Uh, leave for a few minutes,” the fox said, sounding as though Braxton had asked something stupid, “It’s not like the bird will come if we’re around.”

And so, Braxton left the trap for a short walk with the fox.

“You know,” the fox said after several minutes, “I think you’re a lot better-looking than your brothers. I mean, you’re not super buff like the prince who was here yesterday, and you’re not a skinny little brat like the prince who knocked a feather off the bird. You’re like goldilocks. I know her, by the way.”

Braxton grimaced at the comparison before shushing the fox. Their walk was drawing near a close, and Braxton felt sure that they were near the trap. “Are we close to the cage?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” the fox said, its voice sounding more hoarse at a soft volume, “Oh, and the bird is in there!”

“Then quick! Let’s catch it!”

“Straight ahead, Prince,” the fox said, before nudging his legs. Braxton squinted to see into the darkness before running in his hunter’s gait, silent yet fast. He grabbed at the cage, his hand accidentally pushing just hard enough to frighten the bird. Squawking, it scrambled for the cage opening. Braxton moved his face into its path. He fingered at the hinges, trying to find the rest of the door.

Suddenly something sharp raked across his face, tearing at the bridge of his nose. Braxton gasped and stepped back before feeling a rush of feathers whoosh past him, cooling the scratch. The bird’s feathers fluttered noisily through the trees, making the only sound in the orchard.

“No,” he heard the fox mutter, “Impossible. I-it should have worked.” A wet nose touched Braxton’s hand. “I-I’m so sorry, Prince. I failed you.”

Braxton kneeled to face the fox and tentatively reached out a hand to stroke its fur. “Shh, it’s okay. My younger brother will be here tomorrow to catch it. You just have to help him, alright? And tell him he can use that cage.”

A streak of orange light graced the orchard, letting Braxton see the fox nod its head. “I’ll do that, Prince. And thank you for believing me.”

“I’m happy to.” He stood up and scratched the fox behind the ears before using the morning light to walk out of the orchard.