Fox had a bad leg at least he thought he did but then it might have been his paw, he just wasn't sure, but either way something he just couldn't ignore so he scratched his head and cupped his jaw with the paw that wasn't sore, of that he was most definitely sure,
Fox looked into the distance at hills beyond his stare, so far away he thought but could he get there, something so far away beyond his stare must be so far far away could he get there in a day, and how far is “far away” he pondered, was it just far away, more than a day or was it even far, far away, the thought made him feel quite weak and it occurred to him it could even take a week; to solve the problem he needed to seek,
A remedy he required cos this poorly leg would make him tired, tired from running around on soft leafy ground or even hard pathways on solid soil was a bit of a toil, no matter where he would tread, from morning till bed and he was sure it wasn't all in his head,
A journey he must make and make no mistake no matter how far or far, far away, tomorrow would be the day at home he simply couldn't stay, yes he would be on his way so he packed a fox satchel with things he had a found, an old plastic bottle just slung on the ground and a little square box he kept on a hunch that one day it might come in handy for a packed lunch just snacks and morsels some soft and some with a crunch into his satchel he might eat for late breakfast which was called brunch but he preferred his own word and changed it to blunch but either way it would last him to get to that hill that was beyond his stare and with that fox rolled up and fell asleep in his lair,
When fox awoke he looked round his den he was looking for a shiney silver and gold feather-pen, a pen to take notes with when he went on his way so he could make his way back without going astray, then he would need some scroll-leafy paper and and blueberry ink but thought wisely against taking the kitchen sink which he didn't really need cos he had his old plastic bottle from which to drink, so he filled up his satchel with all he could think and hung it off his old gnarley walking stick which he could also use later if it got a bit hard to walk, and it was his companion to which he would talk when feeling lonely or in pain, it had a spike y, knobbly head and carved into the grain were words he could easily make out which said, Carved in Tipperary by Old Mother Gout, a shillelagh for protection to give a good clout to girl or a boy or slithery thing or anything with a wet, nosey snout Fox's Shillelagh was certainly stout,
All packed up and ready for off Fox closed the door and latched the latch on his well hidden den with gold autumn twiggery thatch, if he left now good time he would catch and maybe make that far rock where he would stop to eat blunch, first he'd eat soft morsels then finish with crunch then beyond he would stop at a tree just in time for his evening Tea,
Fox made good time with his four little legs eating up miles and he felt quite happy and showed it with smiles, and on he went for many more miles, he made so much time he went right past the rock and there just ahead he could see the big tree and knew that's where he would stop and have his fine Tea
Eventually Fox got to the tree and sat on a branch next to a stone, a stone so round and flat on the top he took out his scroll-leafy paper and started to jot, He jotted all the things he had passed on his way, things of importance so he wouldn't go astray and on one corner he even wrote down the day so when this journey was over he could accurately say he now knew how far was far away, and if it took more than a day he would know as well even how far was far, far away
Fox ate his Tea and then burped then from a large acorn cup fresh water he slurped, but he found the acorn cup was not really big enough and was only big enough for one slurp, so he filled it again from a hole in the bark, a hole made by woodpeckers that Fox thought were so smart, from up in the tree came a noise that made Fox start, startled so much he felt for his heart, slowly he looked up in the tree and there was an old woman where an old woman should not be,
The old woman called down “What are you doing here Fox?” “And I see you have an empty square box”
Fox looked down and indeed his box was empty but he was sure he had packed plenty, Oh dear he thought, now what shall I do, I ate my fine Tea but the lot I have scoffed. Fox was perplexed and really quite vexed wherever would his meal come from he planned to eat next?
The old woman jumped down from the tree and sat on a stump, “So young Fox what brings you here and your smiling face has now a look of fear”
“It's not here that I come I need to be much further on, I have a bad leg you see or it might be my paw, I'm not really sure, but if I can make those hills over there I've heard of a doctor a Mr Brown Bear, those hills over there just beyond my stare” “And tell me old woman why should it be an old woman like you should be sat up a tree?
The old woman patted the stump and said “come young fox sit next to me and I'll tell you why I sit up that tree, I search for stout branches Shillelaghs to make, like the one you have there if I make no mistake”
“oh” said fox “now I see why you would sit up a tree.”
“Come come young fox now sit on my knee and at your poor leg allow me to see, for I might save you a journey that's so far way that even by chance you might go astray, and it is dangerous to boot when you hear the owl hoot a warning so bleak of one who lives there of which we don't speak for fear of her hearing a small fox who has lost his bearing. For there lives there Screaming Mad Alice the Banshee who is as evil as evil can be, and Shenanigan Leprechaun and Hooligan too and many many others that make up their crew, no fox if you go there all that will be left of you is bones in a pot from left-over fox stew”
Fox was afright especially as now it was near night and he asked the old woman if she had remedy for his fearful plight.
The old woman opened a crusty old pouch and produced potions and lotions and all sorts of things and fox could see things he was sure once had had wings,There were smells and tiny twee bells, bells with no ring tied up in a string, bells made from flowers that to pick must have took hours. Fox looked in amazement at all these things and cringed at the things he thought might sting, Finally the old woman brought out a snail, well it looked like a snail but with no one in it, snail had long left and his once fine home now looked bereft.
The old woman got to work and a potion she made and it foamed and frothed like gold lemonade, she added bits of this and bits of that and fox was sure he spotted the glint of the eye of a bat, so many things he thought he saw even a slither of dormouse claw, into the shell of snail it was all mixed now it was time to get his leg fixed.
Fox held out his paw the one that was sore and the old woman went to work with a bandage of straw and sprigs, and a splint made of twigs. She wrapped it quite tight so it wouldn't fall off in the night and put fox to bed, his sleepy, sleepy poor head..
Fox woke at first light the old woman too and she collected the first dew in an old wooden shoe, she took foxes paw and it was no longer sore and washed it off with the dew and she knew that fox's leg was fixed good as new, she just knew.
“Right then fox, lets see if it worked, run round that tree so we can see, run. Run as fast as can be”
And fox did as he was told he ran and he ran round the tree, then he pranced and danced and danced and pranced with great glee, then he slowed down to a trot and trotted about, it was the the old woman gave a great shout, “Look, look, young fox, look what we've got! A dance, a dance, which shall name, as this sort of thing doesn't happen a lot, we now must have a name and we'll call it, now let me think, I know, we''ll call it after you, yes on this day young fox we have a new dance we will call it Foxtrot.” And on this day a new dance was born.
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