The older fox, presumably the mother of the little foxes, tilted her head down towards the ground, keeping her eyes pointed towards Thorax, and let out a short bark that almost sounded like a cough. While the changeling had no idea what that meant*, the cubs that were napping along his belly likely knew, as all four of them opened their eyes, looked to their elder, and started huddling up closer to the black legs they were sleeping by.

*Changeling education was highly specialized, focused on using natural abilities as well as how to blend into various societies for infiltration. Animals and their behaviors, especially of those that did not live near the hive, were one of the categories that Queen Chrysalis considered unnecessary, with other examples being advanced mathematics, critical thinking, and swimming.

Tapping into his abilities to sense the emotions of nearby creatures, Thorax could tell that the parent's spiky rage was just shell over a watery but vibrating core of fear, so it was probably the case that she wanted her offspring to find somewhere safe to hide from him. Supporting that was their emotions, which, while obscured by the cloudiness of confusion, were changing from some baseline, solid contentedness to a similar fear, though it didn't change completely.

As the younger foxes weren't moving, the changeling put two and two together and realized that he had accidentally gained their trust... somehow. Apparently, the adult fox did too, as she narrowed her eyes, then made a deep growl while moving her belly a bit. This time, the smaller foxes quickly got up and dashed their way over to her, most of their emotions replaced with anticipation, which had its outer part shudder and spike periodically.

As he took notice of the parent's emotions reducing in intensity, he decided to try and say something. "Well, I'm sorry for coming in here with your nymphs, or, well, what ever words are used for the members of your clutch, but I fell into the caves on accident, and I can't fly out yet." He took another look at his wings, which managed to grow back a few inches since last night, a bit faster than he expected. "Is it fine if I stay here? I'll try and fix the hole I made, too."

The family of creatures gave no indication of understanding what he said, which Thorax wasn't particularly surprised by. What few animals lived near the hive either fled or ignored changeling conversation, and getting the latter in this situation was probably for the best. Instead, the older fox brought to her offspring a small pile of what looked like smaller versions of the moles that often burrowed into the hive.

As the original occupants of the snow caverns were busy eating, Thorax decided to check himself over. As he previously noted, the wings were growing back even faster than he expected, even when he was regularly eating the love the infiltrators brought back. They seemed a bit shinier than they usually were, though that might just have been the stronger lighting compared to the hive. While the hiverock did let light through, it wasn't nearly as translucent as snow, and the ceiling here was much thinner, too.

After sitting up, he checked his other limbs, which moved just fine, and his disguises functioned just as well. While his magic was a little weaker than usual, that was probably from how poorly supplied the camp was, worse than the hive. Considering the latter was under permanent rationing...

Thinking about food gave him a sudden realization. He felt less hungry than he usually did, despite the fact that he barely fed at all during the invasion and didn't quite get enough at camp. He didn't run into anyone at all since he landed in this tundra. In fact, the only creatures he even saw were these foxes, so.... The only explanation that he could think of was that he somehow fed in his sleep, but everyling knew that that you had to actively pull from a source to feed off of love, and that animals usually weren't worth the time. He had heard that it was easier to do so if the target was fooled into it rather than if it was just taken by force, but he never heard it being literally effortless.

Thorax dropped that line of thought for later when he saw that feeding time was over, and the young foxes started playing with each other and some leftover bones. After a moment of watching them, the older fox stood up and walked towards the changeling. By now, the anger and fear were mostly gone, replaced by a very observant mix of curiosity and unease. In other words, about the same that he was feeling. He let he sniff him, as it didn't seem all that different from eyeing each other over. Plus, if she did anything aggressive, his fangs were far longer, and a kick from him would likely hurt, so he wasn't that afraid of her. Evidently satisfied, she walked past him, and looked up at the hole in the ceiling from the previous day. Beyond it, the sky was still overcast, but it wasn't snowing anymore.

"I should be able to fix it with the snow on the floor," Thorax said, and lit his horn to try just that.

Not used to magic, the fox glanced warily at him, then at snow he was lifting, but she stayed put and watched. He gently lifted it up to the ceiling, slowly inching the mass towards one of the edges of the hole, hoping to gently press it together. It didn't work. The edges crumbled down into the caverns every time he so much as brushed it with his load. Eventually, he gave up and haphazardly dropped it in the center of the chamber.

Thorax groaned. "It won't work without some support. A pillar in the center would work, but I don't have enough snow for that, and I don't want to risk taking any from the walls."

He looked at the fox, but, well, she wasn't there any more. Checking down one of the other tunnels, he could barely see her, mainly from movement and some lingering emotive energy. Having nothing much better to do, he followed her.

The path taken through the various tunnels, which Thorax did his best to memorize, eventually led to another opening to the outside. This one much easier to go through, as instead of a sheer drop, it was merely a steep incline to the surface. While the elder fox wandered off, likely to look for food, he instead doubled back to where the hole was, just on the surface.

He found it with no trouble, and started looking nearby for a good place to dig up snow to drop in. He stopped once he realized that, with an invisible cave network underneath, any digging might destabilize some of it, and the last thing he wanted to do was make even more holes.

The solution he eventually came up with was to dig near the main entrance in the direction of the walkable slope. That way, he had little chance of damaging the caves, and could even make it easier to get in or out to boot. Of course, that meant yet another trip back, but the walk was only a few minutes, and even with the cold weather he preferred that over sitting bored in the invasion camp.

Digging up the snow was a little difficult, as it was a formless mass that, for the most part, was stuck together as a giant mass covering the entire tundra. He had to kick hard to pick grooves into until it was loose enough that could rip it away with his magic, and then he had to carry it back. After that, he had to carefully drop it in without touching the unstable ceiling and making sure he wouldn't drop it in any unsuspecting foxes. Thankfully, a few trips provided enough building material by his reckoning, and he made his way into the caverns again. The proper way, this time.

Managing to make it the whole way back was quite a feat of navigation, what with the walls and ceilings made of pure white snow and the ground a mix of mostly dead grass and uncovered dirt that occasionally dirtied the lowest layers of snow, but he still managed it, even if a little slower than before due to a lack of confidence. It did help that, near the end, he could hear the younger foxes playing, which made his decisions at any crossroads far less hesitant.

The pile of snow in the middle was almost exactly as he left it; a couple depressions and a score of paw prints was evidence enough that the little foxes had a bit of fun there in the meantime. Thorax smiled a bit at that, then got started carefully forming the snow with his magic. Again, this was driven by caution and a lack of experience, as the Badlands rarely saw snow. It didn't take long for him to figure out that compacting the material hardened it and stuck it all together, and he began in earnest.

Outside of the occasional interruption of a cub coming in our of either curiosity or, in one case, rolling right into the chamber with another while play fighting, it was peaceful work for him. He shaped a pillar that he hoped was thick and sturdy enough to ensure it would survive something small and fuzzy barreling straight for it, which broadened at the top and fanned outwards just underneath the edge of the hole. With that, not only was it better supported and less liable to fall inside should, say, the wind start blowing the wrong way, but it also sealed the chamber in again. He could already tell that, without the chill air from the surface coming in, it was a bit warmer inside the caverns. Not enough for the snow to melt, but still warm enough for a creature with enough insulation to find it comfortable.

Of course, he did test the structure to make sure it was stable, and while he had one front hoof carefully pressing on the new ceiling and the other using the pillar for balance, the elder fox returned, carrying the result of successfully hunting rabbits. Thorax happened to be facing the wrong way to see her, but it was hard to miss the cubs running in with vibrating anticipation. She left the meal to them, and looked toward the pillar. Wanting to give her a better view, he pushed off from it and dropped back to his usual quadrupedal stance.

It was hard to gauge what she was feeling, as outside of some slowly fading, but still bright pride over the hunt, and a small core of love for her offspring, it was all a gray, listless mass of neutrality. As a result, the changeling stood there in silence, unsure what exactly to say while his work was inspected. It seemed that the fox was satisfied, as she went to the family's storage and returned with a mouse, placing it on the ground in front of Thorax.

"I, uh, appreciate the gesture, but I can't eat that," he said, pushing the chilled corpse away.

She glanced between him and the rejected offering a few times, before just going ahead and biting into it herself. Having nothing better to do, he watched her for a while, until one of the little foxes pounced on some of the leftover snow right next to them.

Just like earlier that day, they were playing with the bones that remained, batting them about and jumping on them. This one (which had larger ears than the rest, Thorax noted) happened to send the rabbit femur his way. He took it as a sign that they wanted to play with them, and lifted the bone using his magic.

The youngling was a bit surprised by this, but then realized that it was a brand new way to play, and got very excited and barked in anticipation. After shaking it a bit, he tossed the bone down one of the corridors, the little one dashing after it. The other siblings all watched, pick up their own toys, and brought them over to Thorax for some fun, too.

While he already knew about how much the young ones like him, he did learn something from the elder's reaction, or more precisely, the lack thereof. She just kept an eye on them, trusting him not to do anything to hurt them.

'I could get used to this,' he thought, and played with the rest of the cubs, a small smile on his face.

Author's Note

The sounds the foxes made are based on the vocalizations of real world red foxes, which are better understood than those of snow foxes.

I'm aware that the lack of names for them make it a bit clunky in places, but Thorax'll give them names next chapter.