Here two character of my new world i'm developping: Predaepolis! ^^

Here a story relating the meet between this fox and this mouse. Hope you'll like it!

Meet Kyle and Fuzz, a fox and a mouse whose friendship in the city of Predaepolis seems unreal, just as it is in nature. Although it’s not that rare, the interests of one and the other push evolved animals to make compromises and not let themselves be guided by their primal instincts.

But in Kyle’s case? Oh, he totally tried to eat the mouse. Let me tell you about it.

It’s 5 p.m. on a spring afternoon, in an alley between two red brick buildings in the Foxinghton district. A neighborhood obviously mostly populated by foxes, but also a thoroughfare for the neighboring Miceside district and other areas inhabited by rodents. Many pass through Fox Burrow, using hidden, secure paths—wide rodent highways inaccessible to most foxes. On this late afternoon, the weather is pleasant, around 21 degrees Celsius, with the sun partially hidden. Kyle is coming out of a stressful meeting; his job as an executive at a telecommunications company takes up a lot of his time. He’s hungry, his stomach growling, having eaten nothing since the sushi at lunch, now reduced to a bubbling white mass mixing with greenish acids at the bottom of his stomach. That’s when he senses something familiar around him: a mouse. Between two trash cans, he spots a small pink silhouette darting toward a wall with a recognizable rodent tail. Without a second thought, Kyle lunges in pursuit! The two end up in a small dead-end alley, and the silhouette hides in a pipe exit… unfortunately for it, sealed with cement a meter further in. The pipe is deep enough that the mouse is out of the fox’s reach, who soon reveals himself. He’s wearing an elegant gray suit, a classic red fox like most of the neighborhood’s residents. He peers into the pipe and growls:

“Come on, get out of there. I’m hungry.”

The mouse lets out little squeaks—obviously, she’s not coming out! She has no options, though, except to watch the fox try every trick in the book to catch her. Attack her with a stick to reach her? She’s too agile, and the stick breaks after hitting the cement at the back of the pipe, narrowly missing her. Stretch out his arm? Still too short, and he’d dirty his suit jacket. Convince the mouse to simply give in to the natural cycle of life? Not a chance. Fart at the pipe’s entrance? Oh yes, he did that, but just for laughs, and aside from the mouse’s complaints, it accomplished nothing.

It’s 9 p.m., and the two are still wearing each other out. The mouse has attempted escapes, and the latest one seemed promising. That’s when they chase each other again, and the mouse slips between two trash cans. It’s enough for the fox to catch her off guard with a clever move, lifting her by the tail and holding her in front of his muzzle. Instead of struggling, clad in her cute little pink suit made of material harmless to a fox’s insides, she snaps, exhausted:

“Four hours to catch a mouse? Really? I’ve never seen that. Don’t you have anything to eat in Foxinghton?”

Kyle sighs in turn, his muzzle twitching as he speaks, very close to the mouse.

“You’re right. That was ridiculous. And a good burger sounds more appealing than a trash-flavored mouse who probably just wants to go home.”

His breath carries the scent of saliva stewed and stirred from hours of talking, mixed with faint, sharp traces of fish and rice—an odor that envelops the mouse, making her shiver. Yet, despite her racing heart and intensifying primal reactions, she’s not afraid. The mouse stops struggling, grimacing at the whiff of the fox’s breath as he continues:

“At Derg&Fries, they serve really good ones. Maybe a mouse could tide me over until I get there—what do you say?”

His joking tone affects the mouse, who plays along. She knows she’s in a neighborhood where tens of thousands of residents would love to see her in their stomachs. She sighs, figuring this fox might protect her…

“I’m hungry too. Do they at least serve seeds there?”

It’s through this unbelieve exchange that the two head to Derg&Fries, a well-known fast-food joint in the area. The mouse, perched on the fox’s shoulder, clings tightly to the tufts of fur around his neck. They enter the restaurant, where mostly foxes are dining, along with a few wolves, a buffalo, three lynxes, and a zebra. At the back, an area with sturdy iron bars is reserved for vulnerable citizens—rodents, rabbits—who have their own secure entrance. It might seem surprising, but economics are what they are, and restaurateurs don’t favor segregation. A mouse coming to eat is still revenue!

The manager, a tall gray wolf, greets the pair and asks the mouse if she’d like to eat in the vulnerable individuals’ section, where customers behind the barriers stare at her with wide eyes. She declines. So, she and the fox end up sitting across from each other at a table, soon enjoying a tasty chicken burger for Kyle and fried vegetable bits and seeds for the mouse. They get to know each other: Kyle Marango, a telecommunications executive, introduces himself to Fuzz Wanderberg, a consultant at a literary publishing house. Both have had a boring, stressful day of meetings, and soon their anecdotes and personal stories flow, along with laughter. Fuzz knows Kyle has eaten dozens of rodents like her; she watches each bite of burger disappear into his canine maw and slide down his throat, thinking how many of her fellow mice have taken that same path, been digested, and followed the natural process—and how it almost happened to her too! But nature is what it is, and everyone’s aware of it. She likes this fox—he’s nice, funny, and she can talk to him about anything…

After a heavy meal, their stomachs full of greasy food, they leave the restaurant. The mouse has settled into the chest pocket of Kyle’s suit, against his heart, where she can hear and feel every beat pulsing blood to all his organs, including his digestive system. They reach a quiet street, and the fox takes the chance to let out a loud burp, making Fuzz laugh.

“My stomach’s stuffed! It’s rumbling in there… maybe a good mouse could help stir things up.”

He presses his hand against the warm pocket holding the mouse’s body and slides a claw under her throat. He grabs Fuzz by the tail again, holding her in front of his muzzle, slightly opening it to reveal fangs yellowed at the base, the tip of his pink tongue exposing a cavity reeking of macerated burger. But Fuzz doesn’t play along this time—not in his way—and takes advantage of the closeness to smack Kyle’s snout with some dexterity, startling him into dropping her. Agilely, she leaps onto his head, and Kyle sneezes before exclaiming:

“Hey, I was kidding!!”

The mouse peeks over the fox’s red forehead and replies:

“Oh yeah? I’d have preferred if you were serious, big fox! A trick worthy of an animal like you! But honestly, the air’s better up here than in front of your muzzle.”

Kyle grins and continues on his way. This mouse is something else… she’s hiding things. It’s like she enjoys flirting with danger. Yes, that’s for sure.

“I ate too much anyway, Fuzz. I could use a digestif. And to relax. Do you like Calvados?”

“I’m more of an Armagnac boy, but I’ll follow you! On your head.”

The two new friends head toward a bar on a busy avenue to unwind from their day. They’ll definitely see each other again, many times, as illustrated by a gloomy late afternoon in front of the Foxinghton Mall, with Fuzz on the shoulder of the one who now protects her…