When the sun hits its coat it could even be a golden retriever puppy. Mr Stinks is wagging his tail and sniffing him all over like he’s thinking, yippee, fox shit to roll in soon. “There’s another,” breathes Dove, and sure enough a second fox limps out from behind a tree trunk to join the first. “His brother,” Jamie asserts. “Have you got any rope?” “Absolutely not.” I ignore the look on Dove’s face. “We definitely don’t have any rope.” “You must be mental. Everyone has rope.” “Ssh.” I put a finger to my lips. “We don’t want to scare them. They shouldn’t be out. Foxes are nocturnal. Does anyone know what that means?” “They’re zombies?” offers Max. “It means they sleep in the day and come out at night. Something’s wrong. Look how dazed and thin they are. This is a bit of an emergency, guys.
