Run for the Hills E-Book

Tom McCaughren

• Herausgeber: The O'Brien Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

All the foxes who lived in Glensinna knew about Sionnach, the Great White Fox. But they had never seen him.  Some thought that on one occasion they might have, but it was only a fleeting thought and one that had passed like the melting snow. When they were cubs their mother had told them the story as she whiled away the time in the darkness of their earth... After almost a decade and a half, award-winning author Tom McCaughren returns with a new installment in his bestselling series!

Leseprobe

‘It doesn’t matter if the paws are black or white, so long as they can catch a mouse.’

Old Sage Brush

For my grandchildren, Caoimhe, Tom, Annabelle and Senan

Contents

Title PageEpigraphDedicationOne:The Great White FoxTwo:Coats of Many ColoursThree:A Strange New WorldFour:Back to Beech PawFive:The Field of ThistlesSix:The Shee FoxSeven:Catching SnowflakesEight:The TrophyNine:Hop-Along’s NightmareTen:The Forest of FearEleven:The Honey TrapTwelve:A Narrow SqueakThirteen:A Shot in the DarkFourteen:The Fox and the DecoyFifteen:The Cloud LiftsSixteen:A Sting in the TailAuthor’s NoteAbout the AuthorCopyright

One

The Great White Fox

All the foxes who lived in Glensinna knew about Sionnach, the Great White Fox. But they had never seen him. Some thought that on one occasion they might have, but it was only a fleeting thought and one that had passed like the melting snow. When they were cubs their mothers had told them the story as they whiled away the time in the darkness of their earth. Even before the cubs could understand what was being said, their mothers told it. Secure in the warmth of their mothers’ embrace, the story was whispered in their tiny ears.

Once upon a time, she had told them, the fox god Vulpes had reshaped the hills and formed a valley especially for them. It was a valley where they could survive when others who lived elsewhere might not, a place where the Great White Fox would look after them in times of great danger.

Perhaps man had once seen a white fox there. Why else should he have called it in Gaelic, Gleann an tSionnaigh Bháin, which means the Valley of the White Fox? If he had, he had long forgotten it, as he now called it Glensinna.

The foxes that lived in the valley called it the Land of Sinna. But they had not forgotten why. They knew the story only too well. And those who thought they might even have seen the Great White Fox were not young foxes given to telling tall tales. They were grown-ups.

It was winter time when it happened. The snow was falling and for a moment they thought they had discovered who the white fox was. But then, as they reflected on what they had seen, they had to admit that it could have been their imagination. For the fox who seemed to be white was, after all, one of their own, his frail back covered by a mantle of snow. Because of their uncertainty, it was a story they kept to themselves. Then there was a most unexpected occurrence.

One day, as one of these foxes hunted for food, she came face to face with what seemed to be the creature of her mother’s stories. Like most foxes, she herself had a white tip on her tail. But this one was completely white, from its face to the tip of its tail – and it wasn’t snowing!

Two

Coats of Many Colours

The beech leaves had turned brown, the birch leaves yellow and the sycamores a mixture of both. On other trees, nature had added a splash of gold and crimson to the leaves and in doing so turned the countryside into a rich kaleidoscope of colour. At the end of a long row of beeches, the wind plucked a leaf from a branch and played with it as it made its downwards spiral. It landed on the nose of an old fox who was dozing in the leaf litter beneath. He shook his head to dislodge it and raised his whiskered head. The edge in the wind and the looseness of the leaf told him much. Autumn was well on its way and winter would soon come riding on that wind – winter and the many dangers it would bring.

Easing himself to his feet, the old fox turned and made his way through the hedge into the next field. He could feel the remains of plastic that had shielded the seeds of maize in spring and was aware of the rooks and pigeons that were now feeding among the rows of stubble. The birds took no notice of him, nor did he take any notice of them. His earth lay in the next corner where four hedges met. The entrance was concealed by huge mounds of hedging that was intertwined with all sorts of weeds and creepers. The crows and the pigeons that perched on the ash tree above knew the earth was there but they paid no heed to it. An old fox posed no danger to them. He, on the other hand, would pay much heed to them when they returned to the tree with their craws full. For their eyes were his. They could see from their vantage point what he could not see. They would be long gone before danger arrived and so would he.