In the silent, snow-blanketed wilderness, a red fox stands alert, ears twitching, body still. Beneath the pristine surface, a mouse scurries β invisible to the eye, but not to the fox. It tilts its head, triangulating the sound using its sharp hearing. A moment of tense stillnessβ¦
Then β launch.
With an elegant, arcing leap, the fox propels itself into the air, twisting slightly mid-flight. It dives headfirst into the snow, hind legs flipping upward like a gymnast. The snow explodes around it in a puff of white powder.
For a moment, all you see is the foxβs tail sticking straight up like a flag. Then it emerges, muzzle dusted with frost, sometimes triumphant with a wriggling mouse in its jaws β or sometimes just shaking off the snow, trying again.
