The monk caught sight of the fox from time to time, slipping through the undergrowth, and the sight of her always made him smile.
He did not know that the fox had fallen violently in love with him, when she came to tell him she was sorry, or perhaps before, when he had picked her up from the muddy courtyard and taken her inside to dry herself by the fire. But when ever it had happened, it was unquestionably true that the fox was in love with the young monk.
And that was to be the cause of much misery in the time to come.
Much misery, and heartbreak, and of a strange journey.
The Dream Hunters ~ Neil Gaiman