The Tortoise, The Hare and the Fox

One day, a hare was challenged to a race by a tortoise.

"What a lot of hooey!" he said. "You got balls, blockhead!"

And so, the hare went off to practice his daily regiment on the path that snaked through the valley, his paws hardened with calluses.

At a maple tree in the distance, he could see a figure under its shade, and the more ground the hare covered, the redder it appeared until he recognised it was a fox, clumps of ratty fur all over its coat. When the hare could see the whites of its eyes, he realised it looked directly at him as a chill crept through his spine. Nevertheless, he picked up speed and passed the tree, looking up to the destination of the mountains ahead of him.

A set of sharpened claws gripped the hare's shoulders. They dug past his fur and under his skin, then tore through it as they dragged him through the dirt. The paws released their grip. Free, the hare tried to scream but was quickly silenced by one paw that covered his mouth and another that placed him in a headlock against the tree. He tasted metal that freshly dripped from the fox’s claws.

"Mr. Hare," the fox said in an emotionless tone, "We have order for you. Tortoise is there to race you tomorrow. You are most quickest in all of valley, da?"

The hare nodded, shaking.

"Then, you shall throw away race tomorrow. Let tortoise pass finish line. Take nap, disappear in mountains, go back home, maybe drink a few before race, do what you will. But tortoise must win under all circumstances. We agree, da?"

The fox removed his paw from the hare's mouth and the hare gasped for air.

"Yer bastard! Ya can't do this to me, it's social suicide! There's no way I'll."

Smack. Something stony struck him at the back of his head, knocking him against the bark of the tree. The paw covered his mouth again, muffling his cries.

"This is not request. If you refuse to accept, we shall hunt you down, slice belly open and wear intestines like sash. Let this be warning to you, Mr. Hare."

With that, the fox let the hare go and he collapsed onto the ground, weeping in his panic as he searched for any sign the fox was still around. But they were gone. His shoulders still bled as he licked at his wounds, ignoring any passer-by that might’ve looked in his direction. After he was certain his slashes had healed, the hare made the long, dizzy walk to his hutch, and when he returned, he dug as deep as he could underground until he convinced himself he was safe. He lied in the darkness, drifting in and out of a hazy sleep with a pounding headache.