But no matter how the little fiery-red fox searched for an exit, it could not get out, because it only looked for places that seemed passable, such as the gaps between the branches that formed the fence walls.
Yet even where it clearly should have been able to squeeze through, it never succeeded even once. In its understanding, that was the most terrifying thing of all.
Finally, when night fell, it had utterly run out of strength and could only let out low whimpers.
Fortunately, the boundless darkness gave it a small sense of safety. Exhausted and terrified, it collapsed into a corner of one room and began to shiver.
And in that corner stood a small golden blade of grass, only about three inches tall. The little fiery-red fox was on the verge of starving to death.
Normally, it would never have eaten such grass. It was not food it liked at all.
But at that time, it felt as though it was about to start eating dirt. Driven by hunger, in this place that was barren everywhere it looked, it could only swallow that little blade of grass.
It was also the only blade of grass anywhere inside or outside this place.
The grass was incomparably bitter, but it only chewed it a little before impatiently swallowing it. Other than opening its mouth a few times, it no longer had any strength to stand.
Afterward, just as it wondered what else it could eat, waves of wrenching pain came from its belly. In the little fiery-red fox's memories, it was the most unbearable pain it had ever suffered in its life.
It was a terrifying memory it never wished to endure again, and it directly fainted from the pain.
When it woke at some unknown time, it was