The Foxes Crown

    There was a fox in the woods with a crown bestowed upon his head. He wandered the area, and every other fox bowed to him. He had power, more so than anyone else. 

   His paws carried him to his den, where warm fluffy moss was set into a nest. As the day broke, he sunk into his bed, closing his eyes and waiting for his next prowl. He dreamed of chasing rabbits, tearing his claws into their throats before eating his fill. Outside, birds sang and deer galloped, enjoying the light of the sun.

   The fox waited for night, and when it came, he rose. He walked out of his den, smelling the fresh air and feeling the wind in his bright orange fur. He caught the scent of a mouse, and walked towards it until the scent got less stale. He dropped into a crouch, tail grazing the ferns as he crept up to the grey rodent. He got closer, and closer, and….

   Another fox leaped out of a bush, its fur grey like the mouse. The crowned fox growled.

   “That was my prey, give it up!” He hissed, ears pinned back and tail lashing in anger. His crown glowed a soft golden hue above his head. 

   “If you were that close, you should have pounced.” The grey fox said, her voice calm as she sat and curled her tail over her paws. This only made the crowned fox angrier. 

   “Do you know who I am? I am the king of the foxes, everyone bows to me!” The crowned fox stepped closer, getting close enough to the other that their noses could have touched. The grey fox stayed calm. 

   “I bow to no fox unless they provide for me. So tell me, what have you done to get your title?” She asked, head tilting to the side. 

   “I do not owe you an explanation.”

   “And I do not owe you my breakfast.”

   That was it. The crowned fox leapt at the grey fox, teeth tearing into her throat with a sickening yowl from the other. The crowned fox took the mouse with a smug look before walking to the river to wash the blood from his muzzle. Before he got there, his crown moved. 

   Almost like it had a mind of its own, It slid over his head and around his neck like a collar. The (now uncrowned) fox startled, clawing at the gold around his neck and dropping the mouse. The metal didn't budge. Instead, it snapped shut over his head like a bear trap. Only his ears were visible, and he collapsed. Maybe if he realized his crown wasn't really a crown, but a trap, this wouldn't have happened. 

   But alas, his mind drove him to death, thinking that if he was worshiped, nothing bad could happen to him.