Richard’s wife had just left him. He had leant helplessly against the doorframe as she had slipped past him like water, got into her car, and left. He did not understand why, but that had been part of the reason she had left. He kicked up a dormant pile of leaves and watched them rest suspended for a moment in the cold air, before yielding to gravity and sighing reluctantly as they cascaded back down to earth. She had not been seeing someone else. She couldn’t have been. She had said that he didn’t care enough, or didn’t show he cared enough, or some words to that effect- he couldn’t really remember. He had watched the car retreating into the distance until it was just a fuzzy blot on his vision, and then he had shut the door behind him and started walking.
The air around him was clear and heavy. The only sound as he walked was the crush of the bed of leaves beneath his shoes, and the silvery, intermittent song of the wind coursing through the tree trunks. He knew he would not run into any other humans, partly because of the cold and partly because the wood was privately owned. This thought gave him some consolation. He had come to a natural clearing in the woods, where he stopped to gather his thoughts. It was dominated by a large, wrinkled tree stump which sat proudly yet redundantly like a usurped king, drinking in the reverence of the straggling shrubs which fawned decaying at its feet.
Just at that moment a slight rasping of the leaf-bed somewhere behind him caught his attention. He did not turn around, because recent events had dulled most of his sensations, and the enticing pangs of curiosity which should be coursing through his blood at this moment were completely absent. He stood with his arms hanging heavily by his sides, his body inert like an abandoned puppet. He allowed the scene in front of him to slip out of focus, watching it dissolve away until the tree stump was just an anonymous mass amongst the barely visible leaves.
Just then, a small, quick shape rushed into his peripheral vision and snapped his eyes dizzingly back into focus. It was a rabbit, its body convulsed with wild twitches and its eyes popping frighteningly out of its skull. No sooner had it passed in front of Richard did he notice a bigger shape streaking lithely behind it, a shape which flamed orange and gold and white, its large tail sweeping the yielding leaves aside, its light paws streaming over the earth without contact, as though it were a spirit. The fox caught up with the rabbit even as Richard watched. The predator’s back legs folded downwards, loaded with fierce energy, and as they stretched back up again to propel the animal into flight, the world seemed to slow down. Richard watched with horrified fascination as the beast leapt off the ground and cut through the air with terrifying splendour, the hairs on its face bristling with eager concentration, its inscrutable eyes reflecting the quivering body of its prey.
The rabbit bounded forwards as the seconds stretched out, its eyes expressing a fear Richard hoped he would never have to feel, its long ears etched rigid into the air above its head. The fox stretched open its thirsting jaws; Richard thought he could smell the blood-lust on its breath, and see the gleaming saliva form in bulbous diamonds at the back of its throat. It landed with an awful elegance astride the smaller creature, and closed its jaws around the animal’s neck, its long teeth severing the jugular in an instant. The world returned to normal speed as the life fled the carcass, which had so lately been alive and dancing with some incomprehensible bestial spirit.
A soft sheet of rain had begun to disentangle itself from the clouds, and descended now on the clearing in which he stood. It lovingly coated the dead leaves on the ground with a phosphorescent sheen, and decorated the fox’s fur with a regal glimmer as the animal slunk away into the undergrowth with its prize. Droplets of water settled on Richard’s face and hair, and still he stood motionless in the empty clearing. The rain intensified suddenly, roaring down with all the wrath of a vengeful god, and pelting his body with angry bullets. He stood. The rain shrieked and moaned, the wind joining in its cause to sweep harsh points of water into his face. It hurled down vertically, horizontally, from every possible angle; enraged, it drowned the dead leaves in muddy puddles and stripped the yielding bark from the old tree stump. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it stopped, as if a trap door had been suddenly shut in the heavens.
The water dripped off Richard’s clothes as he listened to the forest recommencing its natural medley; the birds, which had been silenced by the rain, sang exuberantly, and the wind restarted its own benevolent song, which the rain had distorted. Richard breathed in deeply, relishing the woody taste of the post-rain air on his tongue. The spindly branches of the small trees were hung with tiny, elegant crystals of water which shimmered and quivered as the wind gently coaxed the forest into a shivering motion. Drops of water were falling from the branches around him, and the clearing resonated with a series of hollow, echoing pulses as they greeted the leaf-bed below. The wet leaves shone under the bright touch of the sun, their various colours blaring forth with renewed vibrancy. Richard smiled to himself, turned, and made his way out of the forest.