Flash fiction: Out foxing the fox
Sarah brakes hard and my attention is drawn immediately back to the dirt road wending ahead of us. Her breathing is short and rapid. “Goodness, was that a dingo?” she rasps, “It came out of nowhere!” “I’m pretty sure it was a fox,” I reply. In fact I am a hundred per cent sure. I would know. I know all of the foxes, rabbits, wild goats and pigs in these parts. Know their movements, feeding and breeding grounds, holes, tracks and boundaries. Foxes have a reputation for being
