Ahce finished covering the last mound of earth, patting it gently until the soil settled. The rain-softened ground made the burial easier, but the weight in her chest felt heavier than stone.
The mother fox deserved more than a shallow grave, so Ahce gathered smooth river pebbles and arranged them with care, forming a crescent shape resembling nine fanned tails. It was the only tribute she could offer the creature that had fought so fiercely to protect its cub.
The tiny fox kit sat beside the grave, trembling but silent, its fur gleaming faintly even in the fading light. When Ahce stepped back, the cub waddled forward, touched its nose to the stones, and released a soft, mournful cry. Ahce knelt, resting her hand gently between its ears.
"Your mother was brave," she whispered. "Braver than most."
