The Quick Brown Fox that jumped over The Lazy Dog Chapter 4

The Quick Brown Fox that jumped over The Lazy Dog  Chapter 4.

The Quick Brown Fox that jumped over The Lazy Dog 

The Bet at Dusk - Chapter 4

The sun had rolled over the skies for one full year now. A full year since Dog and Fox had met the Falcon on the highest peak of the Blue Mountains.  

From then on, through the passing days, weeks, and months, Dog was never the same. 

He had found a cliff beside their dwelling—he’d sit there every evening, watching the human village light up in the distance. His eyes would glow with that light. 

It had started by accident. One evening, days after meeting the Falcon, Dog wandered, climbing up the great rock behind their dwelling. Up there, he had noticed a faint glow far beyond the savannah. He had called Fox, and together they had stared at it, in fascination. 

“How is it,” Fox had wondered, “that we’ve lived here all our lives and never seen that before?” 

Dog had no answer then, but from that moment on, the lights became his daily obsession. Every night, he waited for them to flicker on, and every night, his eyes would glow with excitement. It was as if those flickers of light from the village were beckoning to him, inviting him. 

Fox watched, worried. Dog was changing. He talked less, wandered off more, and always, always returned to the cliff. It was no longer a passing curiosity; it was consuming him. Some nights, Dog would skip meals, his paws twitching anxiously as he stared into the distance, watching, a flame burning in his eyes. 

Fox saw the longing in his friend's eyes. His eyes would glow with the light from yonder as if waiting for something only he could understand. His ears would perk up the moment the first glimmers appeared. It was a silent hunger, deeper than anything Fox had seen before. 

So, Fox tried everything to pull him back—he told him trickster stories, challenged him to hunts, even brought him to the river to chase fireflies like they used to as pups. 

But Dog’s mind always circled back to the village. When Fox spoke, Dog would listen, nod politely, but his responses grew shorter, his thoughts elsewhere. Fox could feel the weight of loss before it even happened. 

One evening, as they returned from a hunt, they stumbled upon something in the dry savannah grass. It was rusted, broken in places, but its blue color still gleamed in patches beneath the dirt. 

Dog sniffed it and jumped back, “Fox, what is this?” He asked. 

Fox prodded it with his paw, “looks like a rock. Or a strange kind of hard wood,” he said. 

Dog shook his head, “no. This is different. Look at the shape. The carvings. This is something made,” he paused, pondered, then turned to Fox, his eyes burning with excitement, “it came from them. It came from them. The humans.” 

Fox frowned, “you don’t know that.” 

“I do,” Dog insisted, “the Falcon said they are the smartest creatures. And look! This—this proves it!” 

From that moment on, Dog carried it with him everywhere. He would turn it over and over again in his paws, examine it under the sun, tap it against rocks to listen to the sound it made. 

He studied it with the kind of intense focus he had once reserved for their adventures together. Fox watched from a distance, feeling the sharp pang of being left behind and alone. 

Then, one afternoon, Dog smirked and said, “you always claim to be the smartest of all creatures. But how can you be sure of anything if you’ve never seen humans up close?” He challenged Fox. 

Fox flicked his tail, “I don’t need to. I’ve outwitted every creature I’ve met. That’s proof enough,” he said. 

Dog’s eyes twinkled. “But what if humans are smarter? What if they know tricks you don’t?” he asked. 

Fox scoffed, “Impossible.” 

Dog grinned, “then prove it. Let’s go to the village. If humans are nothing special, you win. But if they are more clever than you think, then maybe—just maybe—we will learn something new.” 

Fox bristled, “really, Dog? We have already experienced and seen enough. What else do we need to learn?” he muttered. 

Dog only chuckled and walked off, leaving Fox standing alone. But later that night, Fox walked over to the rock. He sat there, staring at the village. His tail twitched. His eyes narrowed. He picked up the blue object—turned it over, sniffed it, stared at it under the moonlight. 

For the first time, Fox felt the weight of uncertainty. He had always been sure of himself, sure of his wisdom, but Dog’s words lingered. What if humans were different? What if they really had tricks even he couldn’t understand? Wasn’t the cleverest creature supposed to explore all possibilities? 

“What are you doing?” It was Dog’s voice that startled him out of his trance. 

Fox spun around, “nothing,” he said, pushing away the blue object so Dog wouldn’t notice his fascination. 

Dog smirked, “you’re just as curious as I am. You just don’t want to accept it,” Dog said, sitting down beside him. 

“I am not,” Fox snapped, “I was just studying that, that’s all.” 

Dog laughed, “you can pretend all you want, but I see it. You want to know, don’t you?” Dog was prodding. 

Fox huffed, “I just—” he hesitated. He did want to know. But he was afraid Dog would only get more obsessed, especially if they found humans to be far more clever than they imagined. He was quiet for a while, pondering, staring at the flickering village beyond the horizon. 

“Fine!” He finally said. 

“Fine?” Dog asked, surprised, “fine, we will go?” he asked, his eyes brightening with excitement. 

“Yes, we will go!” Fox replied, not wanting to show off his own burning curiosity. 

“Really!” Dog still could not believe it—Fox was finally coming around. 

“Yes, I am serious, Dog,” Fox confirmed, “we will set off tomorrow, at sunset. But you have to promise that we will watch from a distance without getting close. And if I say we turn back, we turn back.” 

“Of course—of course we will just watch, no getting near, whatsoever,” Dog replied. 

Fox nodded. Deep down, he was worried about what this journey would do to Dog. He worried for their friendship. This might be the thing that breaks them. 

As the sun sank the next evening, two shadows stretched long across the savannah. Fox and Dog began their journey toward the human village. 

High above, the Falcon sat on a branch, watching. He let out a slow sigh and whispered to himself, “I can stop a lot of things… but not destiny.” 

He watched their figures disappear down the path, then closed his eyes and turned away. 

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