A fox was walking through the woodland. They had only one mission: to keep moving and reach the other side of the woods. What land lay beyond the woodland, the fox could only imagine. It was an unspoken rule that every woodland creature should make this journey at least once. It was considered true enlightenment to see what wonders existed beyond the confines of the trees. Failure to do so would be a breach of duty as a woodland creature, and the fox’s journey was already overdue.

The woodland was a beautiful, constricting labyrinth. Regardless of what route was followed, the fox would consistently find their way back to the same spot, next to an ancient oak covered in moss. Days came and went, seasons changed, and still the fox unknowingly continued to find its way back to the oak. Was it even the same oak tree? The woods were so vast and there were so many oaks. It did not matter; the fox was still trapped in the woods; nothing else mattered.

The fox would sometimes encounter other woodland creatures who would tell tales of their travels. Beyond the woods, there were magical tales of lakes that stretched to the horizon; caves that went to the centre of the earth, and structures so tall that you could touch the stars. New and wonderful creatures were described. One otter even said that they had encountered a fish with wings! Many creatures, it appeared, loved the outside world so much that they chose never to return. They were so eager to leave that they disappeared without a word. The outside world must really be something.

When asked, the fox would feel shame and embarrassment for having no story of their own to tell. In response, some creatures would often try to give advice. Some good, some bad, and some bizarre. Some said they would find the way in their own time, but that they would have to keep on moving. One mole even expressed their disdain for this “tradition” and advised the fox not to even bother with such a farce. The fox did not know what to make of that sentiment. A squirrel promised that if given 12 acorns, they could reveal a hidden trail that no one else knew about. The fox was so excited by this prospect that they spent several moons on this quest. When given the acorns, however, the squirrel gave the fox some vague directions before swiftly disappearing with their profit. The trail would then lead to a dead end.

Several were surprised that the fox was taking so long to find their way, and could sometimes carelessly make mocking remarks. It was said that some creatures had taken several trips to the outside before the fox even had their first. The fox didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like they weren’t trying, but their struggles seemed invisible. The importance of this journey was stressed continuously. Every creature must have a story to tell to add value to the woodland. The fox understood that most creatures were well-meaning, but still, it made the fox afraid to talk to others and reveal their shame. They felt alone.

Standing by the same oak tree, the fox gave it some thought, and admitted to themselves that the necessity of this journey seemed odd. Many times, the fox encountered wonders of their own within the woodland itself. The fox could identify all the intricacies of the woodland: all the plants, the insects, and their symbiotic relationships with one another. How the woodland functioned as its own independent ecosystem. The fox often wondered why they even needed to leave the woodland. Was it even the fox’s choice? Did they want to? Or was it really just an unnecessary tradition? Maybe the fox was only questioning the journey because they themselves were failing. They too, would probably be stressing the value of stories just like the majority of others, if they had succeeded.

The fox felt that they could not appreciate the woodland’s own beauty. They could not stay. The ancient oak, no matter how magnificent, was a constant reminder of the fox’s failure. The fox’s duty was to venture outside. To tell their stories and gain respect and admiration from their peers. What the fox wanted no longer mattered. For these reasons, they decided that they must press on and continue walking in circles with the hope that one day they could move forward.

The other creatures didn’t seem as interested in the fox’s stories of the woodland anyway. They were not the right stories. Who would be interested in learning about the intricacies of fungi when you’ve seen a fish with wings?