Running with Foxes

Jordan's sneakers skidded against the rubber track, breath catching in their throat. Again. Last place at regionals—again.

"You good, dog?" Marcus called from the sidelines, half-concerned, half-distracted by the cable connecting his Switch to the portable battery. They were supposed to be celebrating Sasha's birthday at the mall, not watching Jordan humiliate themselves.

Jordan didn't answer. Just kept running, even as the first drops of rain began to fall.

That's when they saw it—a fox, copper-bright and impossibly still, watching from the edge of the woods. Not scared. Just observing, like it knew something Jordan didn't.

"Yo, you seeing this?" Jordan panted, slowing down. But Marcus was already packing up, Sasha and the others giggling at something on their phones. They'd probably leave without Jordan. They always did eventually.

Lightning cracked the sky in half, a white-hot fracture that turned everything stark and sudden. The fox didn't flinch. And suddenly Jordan understood—some things weren't built for the pack. Some things were built for running alone.

"I'm good," Jordan said to the empty air. And meant it.

The fox vanished into the trees as the storm broke open. Jordan stood there getting soaked, grinning like an idiot, finally okay with being exactly who they were: the one who kept running, even when nobody was watching anymore.