The barking came nearer, angry, breathless, heated. It could only have been a small dog.
It came ever nearer. Now they could hear the gasping for breath at twice the speed, and through the angry barking they heard a gentle growling, as if from pain. Bambi became uneasy, but the elder again said, “It’s nothing that need concern us.”
They remained still and quiet in the warmth of their chamber, peering out to see what was happening outside.
The rustling in the twigs came ever nearer, snow fell from the boughs as they were suddenly run past, a dust of snow was kicked up from the ground.
Now it was possible to see who was coming.
Through snow and bushes, through roots and twigs there came, jumping and creeping and sliding, the old fox.
Immediately after him the dog broke through. It was a very small dog on short legs.
One of the fox’s front legs was broken and just above the break his fur was ripped open. He held the broken leg high up in front of him, blood was spurting from his wounds, his breath was wheezy, his eyes were staring far ahead because of his horror and the efforts he was having to make. He was beside himself with terror and panic, he was confused and exhausted. He swung round in a swiping movement, which startled the dog so that he stepped back a few paces.
The fox sat down on his hind legs. He could go no further. He held the shot foreleg up in a way that was pitiful, his mouth was open, sucking in his cheeks he spat at the dog.
He, though, was not quiet for a moment. His high, shrill voice now became fuller and deeper. “Here!” he shouted. Here! Here he is! Here! Here! Here!” He was not shouting at the fox, at that moment he was not speaking to him at all but was clearly calling to somebody else who was still a long way away.