There was an old bell beside a path.
Nobody knew who had put it there.
It hung from a crooked wooden frame, and the frame had been there for so long that moss had begun to grow on it.
The bell did not mind the moss.
It did not mind the rain either.
When the wind blew, the bell moved.
Sometimes it rang.
Sometimes it did not.
One evening, the wind came down from the hill.
The bell swung.
Clang.
A fox was walking through the grass.
It stopped.
The bell swung again.
Clang.
The fox looked towards the sound.
There was nothing to see except the old wooden frame.
The fox waited.
The bell was silent.
So the fox continued along the path.
The next evening, the wind came down from the hill again.
The bell swung.
Clang.
The fox stopped.
It was not exactly waiting for the bell.
At least, that is what the fox would have said if foxes had been in the habit of explaining themselves.
It simply stopped.
The bell swung once more.
Clang.
The fox looked at it.
Then it walked on.
After that, the fox sometimes passed the bell.
Sometimes the bell rang.
Sometimes it did not.
The fox began to notice the difference.
When the bell rang, it stopped.
When it did not, it kept walking.
The bell knew nothing about this.
It rang when the wind moved it.
It was not trying to make the fox stop.
It was not calling the fox.
It did not even know there was a fox.
One morning, there was no wind.
The fox came along the path.
The bell was still.
The fox stopped beside it.
It looked up.
Nothing happened.
The fox waited.
Still nothing.
After a while, it walked on.
The following evening, the wind returned.
The bell rang.
The fox was nowhere nearby.
Clang.
The sound travelled across the grass.
It reached the trees.
It reached the stream.
It disappeared into the evening.
Nobody heard it.
The bell did not know that.
It simply rang.
A few days later, the fox came along the path again.
The wind was very light.
The bell gave a small sound.
Clang.
The fox stopped immediately.
This time, it did not look at the bell.
It looked towards the trees.
There was something there.
A bird moved among the branches.
The fox watched.
The bird watched the fox.
Then the bird flew away.
The fox continued along the path.
From then on, the bell and the fox seemed to belong to the same part of the forest.
The bell still rang when the wind moved it.
The fox still stopped when it heard the sound.
Neither had decided that this should happen.
It simply did.
One autumn afternoon, a storm came.
The wind pulled hard at the old wooden frame.
The bell swung wildly.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The fox was far away.
It heard nothing.
The storm passed.
The bell became still.
Leaves covered the path.
The fox returned the next morning.
It stopped beneath the wooden frame.
For a moment, it waited.
Then the wind moved.
The bell gave a single, quiet sound.
Clang.
The fox lifted its head.
It stood very still.
And for a little while, the bell and the fox were listening to the same thing.
Neither of them knew what it was.
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