Chapter One - Eclipse

1. Eclipse

The sound of the hunter’s horn cut through the air as the Huntsman rallied his foxhounds. His grey horse sidestepped when he leant over to speak with his Whipper-in. The foxhunt had been going well. For the past two hours they had been on a long and twisting chase after a vixen but it seemed she had managed to escape.

More than twenty brown, black and white hounds circled the grasses, their soft velvet ears hanging low to the ground, helping to stir up the scent. The Whipper-in shouted to a dozen straggling behind, urging them to join the rest of the pack. The Master and his assistants, wearing smart red coats, scanned the field with practised eyes.

The vixen, Sorrel, feared for her life. Bursting through the next hedgerow she began tearing across yet another grassy field. Her wet coat glistened momentarily as sunshine burst through a gap in the clouds. Her pointy ears twitched constantly and were alert to every sound.

Am I going to escape this time? she wondered. She was aware the weight of the cubs growing inside her was slowing her down. Her swollen belly brushed against the grass as she ran. Tears filled her eyes when she thought she might never see her mate again. She and Steren had been so hopeful to rear another generation. Gritting her teeth she dug in her claws to gain greater speed. Faster.

The horde of mounted riders joined the head of the hunt, yelling and hollering. All eyes searched the countryside for a hint of their quarry. The Huntsman pictured the landscape as a map in his mind, weighing up where the fox might be. When he remembered a long wooden fence running along the hedgerow he called again, directing his pack towards it. The Master and riders held back, waiting expectantly.

The throng of hounds approached the hedgerow, their tails wagging continuously. Each sensitive nose sniffed loudly along the ground. One of the more experienced hounds stood up on his hindquarters against the fence, showing off his white legs and underbelly. As he lowered his brown head onto the timbers, saliva splattered the wood. Called Raiden by his master, he searched for a taste of the scent.

Suddenly the familiar odour of the vixen filled his nostrils. Flinging his head skywards, he released a blood-curdling howl. Immediately the pack joined in with a deafening chorus and the hounds started leaping into the air. The sound of baying hit the riders like a wave. The air tingled with tension and the mouths of the riders fell open.

“Tally-Ho!” cried the Huntsman and the pack surged forwards. The hounds moved together, each head bobbing to keep check on Raiden’s position, for he was following the scent.

Some of the hunters galloped after them. Others followed more slowly, shouting, “Get that Charlie!” and “Forrard!”

Sorrel checked the distance between her and the hounds. A grim expression appeared on her attractive face for she knew the hunt had found her trail again. No. She pushed harder. I will see Steren again, she vowed silently. The cubs must be saved. She knew she had to keep going until she could run no more.

Less than a minute later the hounds barged clumsily through the next hedgerow. Still fresh with Sorrel’s scent, they bayed louder with excitement. Behind them the mounted Huntsman and a small number of riders approached. Their horses leapt over, kicking up huge clods of mud. The pack continued its noisy run and the riders shouted from behind.

Through field after field, the hunt charged on. Half an hour later the cries from the hounds began to rise as they sensed they were closing the gap. Then the Whipper-in caught a split second glimpse of the vixen and bellowed, “Holloa!”

The Huntsman joined his cry, further driving the pack forward. Bred for their stamina and outstanding sense of smell, the hounds were now locked onto their target – and they knew it. The musky scent of the vixen filled Raiden’s nostrils as they tore along a muddy track.

Sorrel’s muscles were almost bursting and she was panting hard. Her paws felt as heavy as lead as she laboured onwards. Desperation to save her unborn cubs overwhelmed her. Voices began arguing inside her head. Run to the river, run to the woods, run to the farm. She cried out for her mate. Misery clouded her mind. Soon she was running blind and heading straight for Raddon Hill. Then through the thick daze she heard her name being called again and again.

She heard the cries of “Sorrel, Sorrel!” once more and then she realised the sounds were not in her mind but travelling on the wind. Still running hard up the steep hill, she turned her face sideways and spotted the familiar silhouette of Dusk the buzzard. The large brown bird was a family friend and they shared an unusual bond – both families had made their home on Oak Tree Island. She watched him hanging easily in the blustery skies before sinking her head as she continued to climb.

Dusk had been flying extremely high above the valley, his wings tickling the clouds to hide him from any hunter’s eyes. The valley of Creedy spanned many miles around him: endless fields of pasture stitched with hedgerows, scattered clumps of trees and the dark shadow of Creedy Wood. Nearby two horses quietly grazed while next door a farmer herded some sheep with his sheepdog. Across the landscape the unmistakable glistening snake of Creedy River brought life and abundance into the valley.

The buzzard’s wingspan was at least twice the length of the vixen yet his feathers barely moved as he hovered. When Dusk’s sharp eyes saw that Sorrel had spotted him he began his descent, sweeping down in several elegant steps. He adjusted his wings to circle low above the vixen’s head.

Dusk called down to her urgently, “Sorrel, the hunt is gaining, Steren knows and he says that you must return to the den. He has a plan Sorrel! I promised him I would fetch you. Please, you must go back to the island.”

The vixen managed a sideward glance to her friend, but her half closed eyes and lolling tongue indicated she had little energy left. The buzzard chose to stay with her until she reached the immense peak of Raddon Hill.

She almost tumbled down the other side but finally she made it into the wood, scattering fallen leaves as she went. What Steren is planning? she wondered. Will he be in the den or is he going to draw the hunt away?

Her heart was pounding as she ran through the shallow river surrounding Oak Tree Island. Climbing the mound she rushed through the narrow opening into the oak’s hollow trunk. The ivy that hung across the tree like a curtain rustled and waved, then lay still. Before peace could return the hunt entered the wood in an explosion of crackling branches and leaves.

Down beneath the ground Steren, Sorrel’s mate, was waiting for her. In his heart he knew what he must do. As the vixen burst into the den he immediately comforted her, licking her face all over. He was a very large and handsome fox, though well past his prime. The depths of his hazel eyes betrayed his inner wisdom and were filled with adoration for his mate. His furry head rubbed against hers and she sighed contentedly.

As he moved backwards slightly Sorrel coughed out a wretched tear. “Please no,” she stared at him with agony in her eyes.

He nudged her sympathetically but his expression was determined. Looking deep into her large brown eyes he said, “My love, I feel in my heart that now is my time to depart. Please do not be afraid, for we knew this day would come. My spirit shall return, just as I have many times before, reborn within one of our cubs. The cycle must begin anew.” He paused, for tears were streaming down Sorrel’s face. Delicately he licked them from her fur and gazed into her eyes for the last time, “I know you will take care of our cubs. Be strong. I must go now.”

Sorrel watched through watery eyes as her mate vanished from the den. Her heart was filled with pain. Tears fell and her throat felt thick. She could not bear to imagine a life without him. Her legs shook violently as she tried to stand up. Letting out a frustrated whine she collapsed.

Steren breathed deeply as he poked his head through the gap in the hollow trunk. He could easily smell and hear the hounds searching the wood for Sorrel’s scent. Choosing a direction he headed off into the trees. As he ran silently through the leaf litter he was surprised to feel an inner calm and strength. He looked around, are The Spirits beside me to help me through to the end? he wondered.

Memories of previous meetings with the hunt flashed before his eyes. For many years he had answered the Huntsman’s call and lured the hounds away from other foxes. He had become a legend in his own lifetime. Countless lives had been saved. Now he felt his old age looming and he knew, though he did not know how, that it was the moment to move on.

He thought of Sorrel and felt a sudden stabbing pain in his heart. Out of all of the trials in his life he realised this was the hardest. How can I leave her behind? He swallowed. Now is not the time to be afraid. As he continued through the trees he wondered about the new life ahead of him, reborn into one of Sorrel’s cubs. He wished he could take his memories with him, but he knew The Spirits would not allow it.

When he rounded the edge of the wood he caught sight of the riders milling around at the bottom of the hill. He stopped for a moment, keen to come up with a plan that would mean his mate would be safe. His eyes rested on an enormous tree that had been split by lightning. One of the tree’s side branches had been peeled off and it was sloping towards the ground. A plan started to form in his mind. He nodded his head with renewed determination. I must defeat the hunt to save Sorrel.

He trotted into the field and sat down in the long grass. Almost a minute passed. He breathed deeply, savouring the scents floating by. Then lowering his golden head, he brushed his nose on the jewels of dew hidden deep in the grass. His wet muzzle, which had turned white with old age, dripped slowly. Finally he opened his jaws and released his loudest, deepest howl, raising his head up to the skies.

Shouts immediately echoed around the valley. The Huntsman blew his horn, sending tingles down all the hounds’ spines. Their powerful bodies jerked into action and they began charging towards the new quarry.

Steren turned and raced towards the broken tree, dashing up the branch and onto the boughs above. Moments later Raiden and his hounds arrived and they surrounded the tree, leaping and howling with excitement. Two of the hounds jumped onto the sloping branch but they struggled to keep their balance on the uneven wood.

Raiden raised his enormous head and shouted, “Come down old fox, I think now is your time. You are defeated!”

Steren stared straight into the hound’s eyes and called down, “I know you, Raiden.”

The large hound was speechless and stepped backwards. No fox had dared to utter his name before.

Steren barked, “I have led you and your pack at every meet and left you tired and hungry! Even now I could outrun your trusty hounds, but I know it is my time. I shall return and I believe in my next life I will see your hunting and killing come to a rightful end.”

All of the hounds looked amazed and Raiden became filled with anger. He barked furiously, ordering his pack to silence the insolent fox. The eager hounds dug their claws into the split branch and began to climb. One of the younger hounds got his paw trapped and wobbled precariously. He struggled in panic, knocking the other hounds. Two more got caught. All tangled, the three hounds lost their balance and fell off the branch. Trapped securely by their ankles they dangled high above the ground.

The Huntsman approached the tree. His lips curled in anger as he saw his hounds hanging helplessly. They whined plaintively.

Steren made the most of the confusion and ran as nimbly as a squirrel through the branches. He bounded onto the largest bough that reached far into the meadow. As he neared the tip he leapt into the air. The riders gasped in surprise as they watched his golden body flying over their heads. The fox landed cleanly, his legs running the moment they met the ground.

A loud cracking sound quickly followed and the riders watched in horror as the dead branch collapsed. Startled yelps and whines filled the air. The hounds limped away from the broken wood, whimpering pitifully.

The Huntsman shouted orders to his hounds and loudly blew his horn. Raiden quickly responded and turned to chase the fleeing fox. A few others answered the call, but for many today’s hunt was over.

Steren sprinted up the steep sides of Raddon Hill. As he ran he pictured Sorrel by his side. He imagined they were free from Man and his hounds. Slicing through the thick grass he began to pick up speed. His legs used up every last piece of strength within him. He stared straight ahead and his jaws locked together. When he reached the summit he gasped at the expansive view surrounding him. From the top of the hill he could see for miles around: endless fields, mounds, countless smaller valleys, towering woods, towns and villages.

He looked to the horizon and saw the hills of Dartmoor. Staring longingly at these distant mountains, he sensed their magic and importance. I believe my spirit belongs there, he thought. For a moment he felt like he was flying towards Dartmoor and dancing above their majestic rocky Tors. He had never felt more at peace.

Hearing his heart thumping, he turned to meet his adversaries. Clearing his mind of fear, he waited. Raiden, the most formidable hound, had reached the crest and was gaining speed. His ears slapped his head and muzzle as he raced towards the fox. As he opened his jaws with a snarl, he revealed a nasty, yellow set of teeth.

Behind him a rider appeared on a black horse covered in white foaming sweat. The man raised a long black-barrelled shotgun and took aim.

Peace began to return to Creedy Wood. Beneath the ground, Sorrel closed her eyes as images of Steren and their wonderful life together flashed before her. She prayed to The Spirits, asking them to return him to her, safe and unharmed. In the distance the Huntsman’s horn began ringing out in victory. Pain rushed into her heart. Her whole body shook and tears streamed down her muzzle. She wrapped her bushy tail around her body and she whimpered in the darkness. Then she felt a wave of tightening inside her belly and her eyes opened wide. The time for the cubs’ birth had arrived.