On a bed of leaves by the side of the road, the fox licks my ear and growls as the lights of another vehicle come into view. Kicking up dust and showering us with the dead relics of the trees that loom overhead, we lie there catching our breaths as the moon creeps into view as if curious as to the appearance of the two creatures sprawled out so many miles below. Seeing the blood trickling upon my fur from the puncture wounds in my neck, I look at that bony moon and wonder if she sees it too, and if she does, does it reach inside her chest making her feel the same feelings I do. The music is still in the air. Barely audible but there nonetheless, pulling me forwards, guiding me like her kiss. And that kiss, I feel it even after so long. Can still taste it like the flavour of summer sun or the sugar glaze of a donut being fed to me by my grandmother on a beach by the sea back in the long-gone days of my childhood. And those days, how long gone they are. That innocent child is no more, and yet my belief in magic is still with me. Without it, I would’ve become just like any other. That magic- it’s changed me so much, and I don’t think I’ll ever get back to how I used to be, but the door has opened, and the music coming from beyond has become the meaning of my life. Feeling the wet nose of the fox nudge the back of my head, I understand it as a sign of our need to keep moving. In the distance, more headlights shine. And that music; how it calls to me. How it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end the same as the memory of her kiss.