Here is a bit of a longer one. This short story describes the life of a fox. It also explores the effect water would have on the map. I didn’t have time to edit his one at all, so this one is “hot off the press”
As the stream flowed it gave a slight gurgle sound. All around it life flowered. Trees were denser, berry bushes more frequent, more animals lived nearby, silkweed more common, and settlers more often. The slow but steady current kept algae from building up and kept the water fresh. Its very nature seemed to keep evil away.
In the woods formed by the stream, a fox lived. It was not the only fox which congregated near the stream, but it held its niche with confidence. Every morning he would travel out into the plains to get fresh rabbit meat. Sometimes he would catch one rabbit, sometimes many. He would then drag the rabbits back to the woods. With the rabbit in his mouth he was left vulnerable, but he knew routes no others knew and this kept him safe.
At night it would sleep in its shelter, near a bend in the stream. It lived its monotonous life with a strange sort of pride. He was him, he could catch rabbits only as he could. He could make shelters only as well as he could. His life was neat and simple, the idea of cluttering it with comfort and luxury horrified him. In his routine there was comfort, and comfort was as good as he could ask. But all good things must come to an end.
It happened on a day like all the others. As the rays of light came over the horizon and through the trees, the fox awoke. It poked its nose out of the shelter. The world smelled like it did every morning. Except for the feint smell of fire in the distance. The fire was nothing to be concerned about, it was the settler’s way of keeping warm, and he knew it. He climbed out of the shelter and began to head towards the grasslands.
As he made his way through the woods, his eyes lit up. He could hardly believe his luck, a different fox had killed a rabbit and left it lying on the ground. He approached it a few feet at a time. He glanced from left to right, making sure the other fox wasn’t around to claim the carcass. After he was sure the other fox was gone, he trotted happily towards the carcass. He would be able to store this for later.
He was getting close now. Just a few more feet. He could smell the delicious smell of rabbit. He was so close he could almost taste it. One more step and he would be able to bite it. Suddenly there was a rush. With a snap an iron cage sprung out, he was trapped. He heard the click as the cage locked into place. With brute strength and determination he threw himself against the bars, trying to make an opening. He recoiled in pain and shock, the bars didn’t budge. He approached them more cautiously this time. He opened his mouth and turned his head sideways, and bit. He yelped in pain and darted back again. The iron was still there.
He turned around looking for a weakness. There was none. With nothing else to do he sat down. What would do this to me? He thought in anger. As if to answer his question, a head popped out of a bush. A settler with a knife approached. The fox whimpered and went to the far wall. The settler was still coming. The fox buried his head into his paws. The settler was still coming, knife gleaming in the sun. The fox showed his teeth and growled. The settler raised his knife, and brought it down.