Chapter 7

The agent turned about, looking in all directions, but Fox and the agent were the only things around besides sand. Perhaps not realizing that Fox was the tree, the agent sat underneath his branches.

“I think you’ll find my domain quite inhospitable,” Fox suggested.

“I’ve never seen a more desolate place,” the agent agreed.

The words made something in the pit of Fox’s non-existent stomach twinge.

“Surely I’m not the only one with a tactic like this,” Fox argued.

The agent picked up a handful of sand, spilling the fragmented memories and thoughts of Fox’s head back on the ground.

“No one I know could easily subject themselves to this,” the agent said.

Fox wanted to object. He could make his head look like the beaches of Bora Bora with all its crystal clear water, or the top of the Eiffel Tower at night, with all of Paris lit below.

“You’re trying to goad me,” he accused.