The Fox in the Pit

There was a fox in the forest.

One day,
he fell into a pit.

It wasn’t very deep,
but the sides were slick.

He jumped—
and slid back down.

He tried again.

He stopped.

After a while,
a deer passed by.

“Give me a hand,”
the fox called up.

The deer glanced down,
said nothing,
and walked on.

Later,
a group of monkeys came by,
playing by the pit.

“Find a vine,”
the fox called.
“Drop it down.”

They looked briefly,
didn’t move, and left.

The fox didn’t call out again.

He sat there
and waited.

No one came.

He looked up.

At the edge of the pit,
a short, broken vine hung down.

It was just out of reach.

He stood there for
a moment.

Then suddenly,
he jumped.

He missed.

He paused,
looked down
at where he stood.

It wasn’t that low.

He stepped back
and jumped again.

This time,
his paw brushed the vine—
but he couldn’t hold on.

He dropped back down.

After a while,

he turned
and started to run
along the bottom of the pit.

One circle.
Then another.
Faster each time.

He reached the edge—
and leapt.

This time,
he caught it.

He climbed out.

He stood above the pit
and looked back.

The vine
had always been there.

He had waited.
He had called.

But in the end,
no one threw a rope down.

He was the one
who started running.