There was a row of assorted boots and galoshes next to the kitchen door that led to the back yard, the many barns, and the hen house beyond that. Walking over she sat down on the floor to slide her feet into her favorite red cowboy boots. The fit was snug with her thick wool socks and she had to give a good tug to get them all the way on and as a result her toes were pinched a bit. And when she stood up and looked down she noticed the tips of the boots were scuffed brown and also in need of a good buff and shine.

With a great effort she pulled open the door on her own. Basket in hand, she proceeded across the porch and holding onto the rail made her way down the steps. Her boots made a clunk with each step, clunk, clunk, clunk. Even the smallest sound seemed loud in the early morning. Down the sidewalk she went to the white picket fence. She had to stand on the boot scrapper to unlatch the cold lock at the top of the gate. Squeak, went the gate as she inched it open. She would then push the gate wide and hop through before the in hinge snapped it closed.

The hop off the boot scraper set her in motion running down the in the direction of the hen house. It was then she felt she could fly if only she thought hard enough about it. Anything seemed possible in the early morning before the full light of day. With her arms stretched out to her sides she took a deep breath and pushed hard with her toes as she ran. She closed her eyes as one foot left the ground and then the other and rose into flight a few inches from the ground. She opened her eyes just as she rounded the corner of the tractor barn and came to a sudden halt and fell back to the ground, for there in the path was a red fox. She sat in the dew covered grass just inches from a beautiful red fox who was not much different in size than she. They were both startled at the sight of the other, but neither moved.

Maia was the one to break the still of the morning with her whisper, "My name is Maia," said the little girl.

Silence can feel like an ocean when waiting in anticipation for a response or just something to happen. Finally the fox slowly backed away but never took his eyes from Maia’s and he seemed to be looking right into her soul, but she was unafraid of this wild creature for she had nothing to hide. Then he turned and trotted down the path past the hen house toward the woods. At the edge of the forest he stopped, turned and looked at Maia still sitting in the grass watching him. As he stepped into the shadows of the trees, he transformed into a young boy just a little older than Maia. Maia stood up, rubbed her eyes wondering if the morning light and the fog were playing tricks on her. The boy stood there in the shadows his blond hair almost glowing against the dark and then he disappeared.