Writing inspired by the art of Ian Bristow
Reynard sat in the sun. It lit his fur and warmed him to his bones. He had almost everything a fox could need. Except a mate. He half closed his eyes and saw her against his eyelids as svelte, and smooth, and subtle as a snake.
When he heard the voice, he thought himself dreaming at first, but the he realised it was a real happening and he looked to where the sound came from.
She sat about two feet from him basking in the same sunbeam that warmed him.
When the sun went in they walked the night together.