The snort of a fox I'd met two days before - he and I walking in opposite directions on the same narrow path - the snort of his irritation at my arrog...nce to be on the same piece of ground as him at this time of the morning. His arrogance at my presence, his eyes meeting mine, then, hardly even looking at me a second time he slipped past me - still walking and disappeared the way I had come. An encounter of maybe ten seconds. This morning it had been an otter - tomorrow?But that morning almost. I told him that it was indeed fine and that I wasn’t some little kid any more, and I meant it. Dad had moved closer, and he was stroking my back with a hand that he had stretched in beneath my unzipped sleeping bag. “Yeah, if you don’t like something, I’m sure you can say so on your own”. His breath smelled noticeably of beer. “Proud of you”, he said, hand sliding over my butt when he said it. “Dad!?”, I asked. He stirred. “Oh, yeah, sorry, I was thinking about something else… from work”, he. More

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