The Island II: Red Fox

I am back on the island. I don’t know if it’s the same one. It looks quite different, like some part of an archipelago in Central America that broke away and became lost at sea. This island is not open to the universe like the first one I visited. A thick wet canopy of fog hangs above, not more than a kilometre away. It makes it impossible to see anything beyond this place. It is utterly silent. The air is humid, but cold.

I am sitting on the beach, looking out to sea and wondering why I came here. The sand stretches on until it is out of sight in both directions. Behind me, at the edge of the sand, there is a jungle, even denser than the forest on the first island. I know that inside there it is dark and wet. The leaves are a deep green, moist and misleading.

There are animals inhabiting this island. Somehow I know this. I begin to imagine the kinds of creatures living there, among the moss and trees. Macaws, snakes, mosquitoes, lizards. Coiled around trees and perched on branches. Just living. Not waiting for anything.

But I feel impatient, and lonely. I don’t know why I am here. There seems to be no point to it. I dig my fingers into the damp sand and wait. The sea stares at me, saying nothing. It is doing this on purpose. It is playing a Zen game.

TENEWAN

He is on this island. If that jungle is inhabited, he might be there. I know that foxes don’t usually live in places like this, but my hunch is strong. I stand up and walk towards the trees.

It is hard to see in here. My feet make sucking noises — glop, glop, glop — as I stumble through a patch of mud. A little red and orange snake watches me quietly from its stick, about five metres away. It is playing the same Zen game as the sea. I feel cautious and confused. Did they agree on this?

A flash of orange fur! I knew it. The leaves shake violently in front of me and Tenewan leaps into sight, presenting himself with a rascally canine grin. He is big for a red fox, almost the size of a husky. We are happy to see each other. I ruffle the fur on his neck and he stands panting, calm and ready. We make our way back out through the leaves and mud.

Tenewan and I had nothing planned, and find ourselves walking. We stroll together down the coastline underneath the grey blanket of fog. I say nothing. He says nothing, but he is not playing a Zen game. We don’t speak because we understand each other without words.

He is the only one here who knows who I am. My only friend. I smile because he is here now, with me. He looks up at me as we walk together. His eyes are like a shrewd sage’s. I know that he could outsmart any sort of trouble, get us through anything. We are brothers, and we take care of each other.

Most people don’t like foxes. They don’t like animals who scavenge, or keep to themselves, or show a lot of cunning. I know it’s only because they don’t understand. I bet they don’t know any foxes like Tenewan.

We walk for hours.

I start to feel tired, and take a rest. Tenewan sits next to me on the sand, and we both look out to sea. I sense that it’s about sunset, although the bleak sky offers no clues. This section of beach looks exactly the same as before. There is a cold wind, but I don’t mind it.

I still don’t know why I am here, but it doesn’t matter so much anymore. The sea and the snakes and the rest of this place don’t seem so puzzling. Yes, they are playing a Zen game, but now there are two of us. My companion’s ears dance back and forth as the wind blows through his fur. His canine teeth are showing from that behind that grin.
We are good at playing games.

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