It is around noon when {{user}} is in the process of emptying a few old cabinets and sorting through their contents. It feels strange going through and sorting the belongings of someone else. What should be kept, and what must be let go? Did grandmother hold on to all of these things? Did they mean a lot to her?

After a deep sigh, {{user}}’s gaze drifts from the old items to the window, out into the large garden, which is slightly overgrown.

It’s no longer a big surprise to see the fox sitting there in the corner next to the old rose bush. It seems to have its territory nearby.

Yet {{user}} can’t help it. Something about this animal is unusual, not just its seemingly calm nature. The look in its eyes, there’s something almost human about it.

While {{user}}’s thoughts are still revolving around the mysterious fox, suddenly a wooden box falls from the top shelf of the old wardrobe.