This story was written as a birthday present for my mother, who was the main inspiration for Tziki's charachter. Thanks for reading from Alex.
1
On the day Tziki was born, the Valley and the Forest were sparkling in the sunlight; the cool water in the river was dazzling, the fresh drops of the previous night’s rain were kissing the green leaves of the trees, clinging to the tall grass and the smooth stones. It was indeed a beautiful day.
The news of the new birth spread through the forest as fast as the wind would carry it, or at least as fast as the old groundhog could do it. “Haven’t you heard?” he confided in Grandma Owl’s ears, all the while sniffing the air around him for more exciting news, “A new baby fox was born!”
Everyone was excited. Rupert the brown bear, believed to have a few screws loose in his head, was stumping cheerfully around his cave, and that was known to be a good sign.
The reason for all this excitement was due to the fact that Tziki’s parents, Martha and Stewart, were becoming too old to hunt for chickens in the nearby village. The risks of hunting, which included the long walk through the forest and the dusty village roads, had made it nearly impossible for the old couple to feed themselves. Martha was becoming increasingly ill, her limping paw causing her more pain every day. Since he had no opportunity to raid the chicken coops, old Stewart resorted to a more convenient dining destination: the forest itself.
Since that time, everyone had become a target, especially the groundhog. Once good friends and neighbors were now daily victims of the chase and were forced into hiding. Even though everybody knew that Martha and Stewart were facing rough times and their choices were limited, getting eaten wasn’t a bright prospect for the forest folk.
And so it happened to be that Tziki had become the animals’ best hope for survival even before she was born. All hoped that when Tziki would grow a bit older, she would be able to provide for her parents, and peace would once again be restored.
As for little Tziki herself, she suspected nothing of these great expectations; she only knew that she had chosen the most beautiful day to open her eyes, and that this world was endlessly vast. She could be anything she wanted to be. The wind whistled in her little honey colored ears, the grass whispered songs to her about faraway lands, and the river stream was rushing on about a brand new life.
2
“Now remember dear, chickens can be vicious. They don’t seem like it, but they are very fast runners. Even though they can’t really fly, the silly birds have a nasty habit of flapping their wings about and raise clouds of dust”, Martha instructed. “Don’t let it get into your eyes, Honey Paws.”
“Yes Mum, I know that. We’ve been going over this for months. I’m not afraid of the chickens! “. Tziki rolled her green eyes. She was getting quite annoyed at her mother’s cooing. She was a year old now and she felt as ready for her first coop raid as she would ever be. “Dad told me all about that stuff- the flapping, and the screeching noises that they make, and the mean rooster with the crooked beak. I’m all set.”
“But Fluffy Tail, I’m worried. Has Dad warned you about the old farmer? About his pitchfork..?”
Martha shot a worried look at her daughter. She was so small and fragile, that Martha was starting to have second thoughts about letting her go all the way to the village. What if she gets hungry? What if she gets tangled in the poison Ivy growing down by the Creek? What if the chickens outsmart her? She had no doubt about Tziki being the brightest, the fastest and the most talented little fox she’d ever seen, but it didn’t ease her heart. She would give anything to join her little Tziki, but her bad paw was giving her so much pain that a mere stroll through the forest has become a trial, while Stewart was too busy providing for the three of them within the forest boundaries. His hearing has gotten worse to the point where he would confuse Grandma Owl’s cry for Rupert the bear’s groan. Tziki really had no other choice but to go alone, but Martha wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of her little Honey Paws going on this mission alone.
“Yes Mother. I know all about the farmer. Can I go now?”
“Be safe dear. Remember, if anything goes wrong, just run. It’s okay if you don’t bring home a chicken on your first time. The important thing is to be safe”
“I will.”
“I love you, Honey Paws”
“I love you too, Mum.”
3
“I’m a true huntress…I’m going to bring home a chicken if that’s the last thing I do!”
With these thoughts in her mind, Tziki stationed herself in the bushes near the old farmer’s chicken coop. Her paws were sore and dirty from the long journey, she got tangled in the Ivy by the creek and she was starting to feel quite hungry. That was not to mention that a flock of crows, which flew above her in wide circles the entire way to the village, kept croaking on about how silly she was, and that she would fail even at catching her own tail, let alone a fully grown chicken.
A gentle smell of raspberries and fresh butter wafted through the air. All was peacefully quiet. The farmer’s house was standing in a pool of light cast by the setting sun, surrounded by an old white fence. Tziki was about to pounce out of the bushes and approach the coop’s little wooden door that stood ajar, when suddenly she heard the most beautiful sound she has ever imagined. The world stopped moving for a while.
“Boc boc bocuuuuucccckk! Boc bocboc!”
Tziki felt enchanted. How is this even possible to evoke such sounds? What magical creature or being is capable of making this wonderful symphony? She raised her little head above the bushes to get a better look. What she saw took her by surprise.
Two chickens; one was of a muddy brown color with elegant little legs, the other snow-white with a beautiful gold-colored beak. They seemed to be strolling around the yard in front of the coop, deep in a conversation. Tziki was confused. All she was ever taught about the chickens was that they were foul birds, incapable of bringing any benefit to the world’s existence. Now that Tziki was only a few steps away from them, she couldn’t figure out how this could be true, for the language they spoke was like nothing she had ever heard. Not the river stream on a sunny morning, not the wind blowing angrily through the trees on winter, not even the beautiful duet of nightingales and crickets in the forest was equal to this beautiful, breathtaking heap of sounds.
All of a sudden, little Tziki realized she couldn’t do it; she couldn’t hunt chickens. She would never be able to put an end to something so beautiful, so full of life. Their speech was full and sound, with sharp staccatos, growing emotion and strength flowing in every syllable.
She was frightened of her new revelations. What about her old parents? Who will provide for them? What about the forest folk that get chased and hunted on a daily basis, for no good reason other than utter despair? So many great expectations lay on her scrawny shoulders. Tziki felt stunned for the first time in her life.
Little Tziki was afraid of disappointing everyone.
(To be continued...)
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