The Fox & The Scorpion
by Alex Reynard
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Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He pounced on the scorpion, killed it, and gobbled it all up.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 2
by Alex Reynard
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Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He pounced on the scorpion, but his aim was not as true as he had planned. The scorpion stung him. The fox died from the poison. And the scorpion enjoyed a fine meal of his meat.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 7
by Alex Reynard
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Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He pounced on the scorpion and pierced its armor with his fangs, mortally wounding it.
But within the same moment, the scorpion's tail had struck by reflex, injecting the fox's sensitive nose with a terrible poison.
And so, on the riverbank together, they died.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 18
by Alex Reynard
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Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He gave it a wary greeting. "Hello, scorpion."
"Hello, fox," she replied pleasantly. "Could I ask a favor? Would you mind carrying me across this river? It would be a great help to me. I have business on the other side."
The fox looked at the scorpion's deadly tail, ever-raised and ready to strike. "If I carry you across, you'll sting me and kill me with your poison."
"No, no, no!" insisted the scorpion. "Why would I do that? I need your help. It would benefit me nothing to sting you. You have my promise that I won't."
This seemed sensible to the fox. "Allright then. Climb on my back."
And away they went.
It was a pleasant day without a strong wind or difficult current. The fox was an agile swimmer. Everything was going smoothly.
Halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the fox.
The fox cried out in pain and felt his body stiffen with agony. "Scorpion!" he gasped in panic as he felt himself start to sink, "Why did you sting me? Now we will both drown!"
The scorpion realized her predicament, and could only answer, "It's my nature."
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 21
by Alex Reynard
-
Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He gave it a wary greeting. "Hello, scorpion."
"Hello, fox," she replied pleasantly. "Could I ask a favor? Would you mind carrying me across this river? It would be a great help to me. I have business on the other side."
The fox looked at the scorpion's deadly tail, ever-raised and ready to strike. "No," he said, and walked away.
The scorpion sighed in disappointment. She sat down on the riverbank and prepared to wait even longer for someone else to come by that she could ask for help. Perhaps a tortoise, whose hide she could not puncture.
She glanced up at her tailtip, everpresent above her head. "You cause me no end of trouble," she scolded it. "It's a pity you're a part of me."
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 32
by Alex Reynard
-
Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He gave it a wary greeting. "Hello, scorpion."
"Hello, fox," she replied pleasantly. "Could I ask a favor? Would you mind carrying me across this river? It would be a great help to me. I have business on the other side."
The fox looked at the scorpion's deadly tail, ever-raised and ready to strike. "If I carry you across, you'll sting me and kill me with your poison."
"No, no, no!" insisted the scorpion. "Why would I do that? I need your help. It would benefit me nothing to sting you. You have my promise I won't."
The fox nodded at this sensible argument. "Allright then. Climb on my back."
The scorpion scuttled on her eight spindly legs up the fox's lowered haunches, then settled into place upon his shoulder.
The fox whipped his head around and bit deeply into the scorpion's carapace.
The scorpion screamed in shock and pain. "But we had an agreement! Why would you do this!?"
"Because I can spot a liar when I see one," said the fox.
He chewed carefully, swallowed, then continued on his way along the riverbank.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 33
by Alex Reynard
-
...The fox nodded at this sensible argument. "Allright then. Climb on my back."
Smiling in gratitude, the scorpion scuttled on her eight spindly legs up the fox's lowered haunches, then settled into place upon his shoulder.
The fox whipped his head around and bit deeply into the scorpion's carapace.
The scorpion cried out in shock and pain. "Why!?"
"Because I can spot a traitor when I see one," said the fox.
"But I wasn't-" she began to lament.
It was too late though. Her tail had told a tale that not even her good intentions could save her from.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 56
by Alex Reynard
-
Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He gave it a wary greeting. "Hello, scorpion."
"Hello, fox," she replied pleasantly. "Could I ask a favor? Would you mind carrying me across this river? It would be a great help to me. I have business on the other side."
The fox looked at the scorpion's deadly tail, ever-raised and ready to strike. "If I carry you across, you'll sting me and kill me with your poison."
"No, no, no!" insisted the scorpion. "Why would I do that? I need your help. It would benefit me nothing to sting you. You have my promise I won't."
The fox paused to consider his situation. He could hear no malice in the scorpion's voice. To his surprise, she seemed quite earnest. And yet, whenever he took the slightest motion towards her, he saw her tail barb quiver in anticipation, seemingly with a mind of its own.
The fox was clever. He realized that the scorpion's instinct would cause her to sting him regardless of her promise or intent.
"I may have a better solution," he proposed.
"Oh?" said the scorpion.
Quicker than lightning, the fox darted his slender snout forward and clamped his jaws onto the scorpion's tail. His skillful aim kept the poison tip pointed safely away from himself.
"What are you-" began the scorpion.
The fox spun in place, whipped his head around, and flung the scorpion as far as he could.
She screamed in shock and confusion, which the fox enjoyed a good chuckle at.
Keen-eyed, he watched her arc through the air, then land gracelessly on the sandy bank of the opposite side of the river.
Her eight legs flailed comically in the air until she could get herself upright. Immediately, she began to clack her pincers in rage and shout many unkind things to the tricksy fox.
"You're welcome!" he called back cheekily. Then, with a spring in his step, he continued on his way along the riverbank.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 57
by Alex Reynard
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..."I may have a better solution," the fox proposed.
"Oh?" said the scorpion.
Quicker than lightning, the fox darted his slender snout forward and clamped his jaws onto the scorpion's tail. But unfortunately, his aim was not as true as he had planned. His eyes widened in panic as he felt the scorpion's stinger bite deeply into the flesh of his mouth.
As he died of the poison, the scorpion scuttled back, horrified and confused. She fled into the river reeds to escape from the horrible sounds as the fox writhed and gasped in his death throes.
Safely away, she caught her breath and tried to comprehend. "Why did he do that...?" she cried to herself. "Madness, or spite?"
She would never know.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 58
by Alex Reynard
-
..."I may have a better solution," the fox proposed.
"Oh?" said the scorpion.
Quicker than lightning, the fox darted his slender snout forward and clamped his jaws onto the scorpion's tail. His skillful aim kept the poison tip pointed safely away from himself.
"What are you-" began the scorpion.
The fox spun in place, whipped his head around, and flung the scorpion as far as he could.
She screamed in shock and confusion, which the fox enjoyed a good chuckle at.
Keen-eyed, he watched her arc through the air. But then his celebratory laugh died in his throat as he realized his aim was not as true as he had planned. "Oh no, oh no no no..."
The scorpion plummeted into the lake and sank like a stone.
For a very long time, the fox stood in regretful silence. His eyes did not move from the spot in the river that would be the scorpion's unmarked grave.
"In trying to be clever, I killed her. I sent her down to the bottom to die. And worse, she must have died thinking that I deceived her on purpose. What have I done?"
Tail between his legs, he eventually turned away and continued along the riverbank.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 126
by Alex Reynard
-
Once upon a time, a fox was walking along a riverbank and saw a scorpion. He gave it a wary greeting. "Hello, scorpion."
"Hello, fox," she replied pleasantly. "Could I ask a favor? Would you mind carrying me across this river? It would be a great help to me. I have business on the other side."
The fox looked at the scorpion's deadly tail, ever-raised and ready to strike. "If I carry you across, you'll sting me and kill me with your poison."
"No, no, no!" insisted the scorpion. "Why would I do that? I need your help. It would benefit me nothing to sting you. You have my promise I won't."
The fox paused to consider his situation. He could hear no malice in the scorpion's voice. To his surprise, she seemed quite earnest. And yet, whenever he took the slightest motion towards her, he saw her tail barb quiver in anticipation, seemingly with a mind of its own.
The fox was clever. He realized that the scorpion's instinct would cause her to sting him regardless of her promise or intent.
He considered his next actions carefully, imagining several potential choices and outcomes. Finally, he settled on a plan. "Allright then. Climb on my back."
Smiling in gratitude, the scorpion scuttled on her eight spindly legs up the fox's lowered haunches, then settled into place upon his shoulder.
And away they went.
It was a pleasant day without a strong wind or difficult current. The fox was an agile swimmer. Everything was going smoothly.
Not long after he'd started out, the fox began to tell the scorpion a story.
It was not the most moving ode ever spoken by a silver tongue, but it did not need to be. It caught the scorpion's attention nonetheless. Because she had never been told a story of any kind before.
The fox relayed a time when he was very little, and his mother had held a hungry wolf at bay as the beast had tried to dig into their den. The young fox had watched this unfold as he huddled with his siblings behind his mother's protective tail. Swift and savage, she had raked at the intruder's nose repeatedly with her sharp canine teeth and claws. And when their father returned home from a hunt in the middle of all this, the brave tod had pounced immediately on the wolf's flank in a selfless, ferocious attack of his own. Soon enough, the wolf got the message and decided to scamper away, humbled, in search of easier prey.
Wholly enraptured, the scorpion asked, "What happened then?"
"Then," the fox said as he stepped onto the sandy bank of the opposite side of the river, "I saved your life."
Taking advantage of her moment of confusion, he whipped his head around, clamped his jaws onto her tail, and flung her away as far as he could into the forest.
"You're welcome!" he shouted puckishly as he watched her arc through the air.
She tumbled like a falling acorn into the nearby greenery, so he did not see where she landed. But the leaves were soft enough to keep her from being jostled too violently. He was confident she'd be fine. Though he did grin a foxy grin, imagining her flailing in befuddlement as she tried to right herself.
For his own amusement, he ended their interaction with a formal goodbye. "Not the most dignified arrival to your destination, I'm sure you'll agree. But you are here where you wanted to be, and we are both alive. Good day to you, Miss Scorpion. Perhaps our paths will cross again another time."
Feeling quite proud of himself, he turned and began to swim back across the river to resume his journey.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 127
by Alex Reynard
-
...And when the fox's father returned home from a hunt in the middle of all this, the brave tod had pounced immediately on the wolf's flank in a selfless, ferocious attack of his own. Soon enough, the wolf got the message and decided to scamper away, humbled, in search of easier prey.
Wholly enraptured, the scorpion asked, "What happened then?"
"Then," the fox said as he stepped onto the sandy bank of the opposite side of the river, "I killed you."
Taking advantage of her moment of confusion, he whipped his head around, clamped his jaws onto the scorpion's midsection, and chewed her in half.
"Why!?" she screamed in agony.
The fox paused just long enough to give an answer before he sent her down to his belly. "You are a wretched creature. Were it not for my trick, you would not have been able to hold back your stinger. We would both be dead at the bottom of the river if not for me. This is your judgment."
Before she could offer another word of protest, a dagger-like fang pierced through her brain, silencing her thoughts forever.
The fox chewed carefully and swallowed. Feeling righteous, he turned and began to swim back across the river to resume his journey.
The end.
*****
The Fox & The Scorpion, part 139
by Alex Reynard
-
...Not long after he'd started out, the fox began to tell the scorpion a story.
It was not the most moving ode ever spoken by a silver tongue, but it did not need to be. It caught the scorpion's attention nonetheless. Because she had never been told a story of any kind before.
The fox relayed a time when he was very little, and his mother had held a hungry wolf at bay as the beast had tried to dig into their den. The younger fox had watched this unfold as he huddled with his siblings behind his mother's protective tail. Swift and savage, she had raked at the intruder's nose repeatedly with her sharp canine teeth and claws. And when their father returned home from a hunt in the middle of all this, the brave tod had pounced immediately on the wolf's flank in a selfless, fuious attack of his own. Soon enough, the wolf got the message and decided to scamper away, humbled, in search of easier prey.
Wholly enraptured, the scorpion asked, "What is a father?"
This startled the fox. He nearly lost footing on the sandy bank of the opposite side of the river.
He has planned to fling her far away so she could not sting him, thus saving both their lives. But her question was so unexpected, he froze. He did not know how to answer her. His parents had been the center of his world for the whole of his life. He had only struck out on his own the previous spring, and still returned to visit with them regularly. 'What is a father'? It was like being asked what it was like to have air in his lungs.
The fox craned his neck back to meet her eyes and reply as best as he could. "He's an older fox. Like me but bigger. He and my mother are mates. Together, they made me and my brothers and sisters, and cared for us."
She regarded him in bittersweet confusion. Then with clear sorrow in her voice, she replied, "Scorpions hatch from eggs. My mother carried me and my siblings on her back until our shells hardened, then we left her protection when we were ready. If another scorpion had helped to make me, I never knew him."
The fox looked upon this small, delicate, night-colored insect, so different from himself. He felt his heart go out to her. "I'm sorry to hear that. I love my father. He hunted prey for us and brought it back to the den. He played with us when we were frisky. He taught us to-"
The fox froze then, stricken, as his instincts had registered movement: the slightest quivering tremor from the scorpion's raised and ever-deadly tail.
Two things happened in very close succession then.
Remembering his plan, the fox snapped his jaws forward, trying to catch the scorpion by the tail and fling her away. Right now, the only thing that could save his life was putting distance between them. He hoped his foolish inattention had not doomed him.
Except the fox's teeth clacked painfully down on nothing but air. For the scorpion, seeing him pause, had followed his gaze to the cause of his terror. Since her reflexes were much, much sharper than his, it only took the thinnest instant for her to observe her own stinger, feel the poison contained inside, recognize what her instincts would be incapable of resisting, and then will all of her strength into her legs, shoving herself away from him in a dire, directionless leap.
When the fox dared open his clenched-shut eyes, and realized he had not been stung, he looked all around in confusion. "Miss Scorpion?"
Lying on her back in a shallow cup of sand, her limbs were flailing in panic. She was surrounded by only a swallow's worth of water to a fox, but it was surely enough to drown a scorpion.
The fox spotted her thrashing. Pausing only long enough to be wary of her stinger, he darted out his paw. His aim was true, and he batted her from the puddle onto the dry sandy shelf further up the bank. Closer than the greenery, but still far enough away to be safe.
She tumbled like a pebble, then gasped for air and regained her footing.
On the bank of the same river together, standing like statues, the fox and the scorpion beheld each other in breathless quiet.
The breeze made both of them shiver, but the warm sun was not far behind. Tall grass swayed peacefully nearby. The sky was clear of birds, and the lands around showed no trace of either friend or foe. In that moment, for the fox and the scorpion, there was only one another.
The fox, damp from his wet crossing, shook his tail to help it dry. He felt the grit of silt beneath his toes.
The scorpion saw singular water droplets trace shining lines down the sides of her pincers, then fall and leave brown dots upon the yellow sand below.
The fox opened his mouth to speak, and the scorpion saw his fangs.
He saw her tail arch reflexively in response.
"You will kill me if we ever again come close enough to touch," he noted somberly.
She nodded. "I know."
They were at an impasse, and neither now knew how to proceed
The scorpion weakly laughed. "Or perhaps, you will become hungry and decide to have me as your meal?"
The fox absent-mindedly licked his chops, then laughed as well. "That is an unfortunate possibility, yes."
For another long moment, there was no sound between them but the rustle of reeds.
The scorpion stiffened her posture. Suppressing emotion, she addressed him in a formal goodbye; as that was the most logical course of action she could see. "Then our business is concluded. I asked for your help in crossing the river, and you acceded. You have my thanks. To offer an explanation- as that is all I have to give in repayment- I had heard from a dragonfly I know that there is a termite mound near here. So now, if that is all, I will go and seek my dinner."
The fox noticed the scorpion had ended her speech quite decisively, yet she did not immediately leave.
He looked up ahead past the trees on the bank. He scanned with his ears for danger and found none. Then he closed his eyes to concentrate, and drew in scents from the wind.
"Close to here, there is a small hill, located in a sunbeam. I smell meadowflowers. And there is a crab apple tree close by. If I were to head there to enjoy some, you might choose to follow me. Perhaps there would be termites there as well, or bark beetles."
She twitched. Could he possibly be...? In quiet astonishment, she nodded. "Y-yes, there might be."
The fox raised a paw and took a step, then turned his head to glance back. "Perhaps we could enjoy a meal together. Maybe even, I could tell you another story."
He saw her lean forward in eager anticipation of the idea. But then she paused, and looked down at the sand for a long, long moment.
He was confused. Was she declining?
The scorpion thought long and hard.
Then, slowly and with great reluctance, she opened her left pincer, strong and sharp as a hawk's beak, and raised it towards the barb of her tail.
The fox jumped and let out a yelp.
And in it, she heard, not disgust or horror, but concern. Her pincer stilled.
"That seems like a foolish idea," he said with gentle reprimand. "I can't imagine why you'd ever consider such a thing. You would be defenseless. This world has greater dangers than me."
"But if we..." she began.
"I think that if we keep a careful distance, then we will have plenty of time to talk, and think, and to see where the evening takes us."
She simply stared, unable to fully believe in such a hope.
The fox smiled to her. Then he lifted his golden-orange brushy tail and began to trot away, towards the nearby hill.
The forest ahead was rich with a green that seemed as deep as Heaven. Warm sun. Dry, even ground. A momentary paradise, as if the world itself had seen their interaction and approved.
Behind him, the fox heard the scuttle of chitin.
His smile deepened. He called back casually, "After I run out of stories, do you think you could tell me one of yours?"
"Yes!" she agreed immediately. But then blushed. "I must admit though, yours is the first I had ever heard. I may not be very good at it."
"We have time enough to try," he replied.
The end.
***
Moral: Within the best-told stories, there is room for many more.
