Bambi and the elder were both aware that it was Him whom the dog was calling.
The fox knew it too. The blood was now gushing down from his breast and into the snow and built up a gently steaming, scarlet stain on the icy-white layer.
The fox seemed to be having a mild fit. His shattered foreleg had no strength in it and it sank down, but when it touched the cold snow a burning pain shot through it. Arduously, he raised it up and held it, jittering, in the air in front of him.
“Leave me alone ...” he began to say. “Leave me alone ...”. He spoke quietly and imploringly. He was very dull and disheartened.
“No! No! No!” the dog threw back at him in a malevolent howl.
“I beg of you ...” said the fox, “I can’t go any further ... I’ve had it .. just let me go ... let me go home ... at least let me die in peace ...”
“No! No! No!” the dog howled.
The fox begged him even harder. “But we’re related ...” he lamented, “we’re almost brothers ... let me go home ... let me die among my own folk ... we ... we’re almost brothers ... you and me ...”.
“No! No! No!” the dog said excitedly.
Now the fox sat upright. His lovely pointed snout sank down to his bloodied breast, his eyes rose up and stared at the dog right into his face . In a quite different voice, in control of himself, sad and bitter, he snarled, “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself ...? You traitor!”