Shade

By Lizzy Spencer (KarmaCat) �

A red fox in a blue coat looked out a window a few miles above the ground, silently watching as a few white wisps of cloud drifted past. He put his booted feet up on a polished oak desk that had once belonged to some seventeenth century aristocrat, a desk that was lines in leather and etchedwith real gold, upon which sat a radio, and, presently, his feet. But he did not smile.

He held ten coins in his right hand and moved them rythmically with his fingers, feeling the disks slide over each other, listening intently to the tinkling, scratching sound they made. The gazed, almost robot-like, into the blue-hot skies, looking though the clouds at...at _what_?

This he did not know. So he sat back and decided not to think of it any longer, lest he discover something that didn't please him. But still he was not ready to turn away from the window because it was too quiet in his quarters. He had no idea what _that_ had to do with anything, but the
quietude, the pure inaction, of his personal space was all-consuming. It was too still. he hated things getting to still.

He knew what was coming, but he would have given anything not to. But even resistance, refusal to believe, was growing thin now.

He gave an inaudible sigh of discontent, becoming uncomfortable in his own room, his own skin, and thought that there was surely more going on outside, out in the world. Something he could stir up. Whatever he needed at this particular moment, in fact, whatever he had been needing for the past few months wherein which _he_ was getting quiter, his _quarters_ were getting quieter - whatever he needed to replace the noise was outside. And he would find it.

A short burst of familiar anxiety flickered in his chest. He slammed the coins down on the expensive desk. He would find it _now_.

He buttoned his coat and stalked out of his quarters.....