The vixen took one last sniff outside the den, inhaling the crisp autumn air, then quietly crept back inside to curl herself round her kits, and lay her head against her mate.  Days passed, and winter fell.  Red and golden leaves falling to the ground around them.  The kits played in the frosty grass, running and tumbling with each other, and bounding to their father as he returned each day with their meat.  Vixen lay contentedly watching her family.

   It was midwinter when she appeared.  Father came home as the day began to darken, and with him was a lone female.  She looked wary, and scared.  Father had found her wandering the forest, she had lost her pack and was alone.  The vixen’s heart ached for the lone fox, and she returned to her den to create a space for her.

   Night fell and the foxes retired for the night.  The kits played with the new female, and the vixen watched, pleased to be sharing the love that her babies gave so easily.  Days turned to weeks, and the female grew relaxed.  She went hunting with Father as often as she could, she played with the kits, tried to help teach them to fend for themselves and to give Vixen space.  Vixen enjoyed sharing her family, enjoyed giving love to another, but at the same time, she began to grow wary.  The female was becoming a little too involved.  Her family was beginning to slip away from her.

   One night, as Vixen did her final check before coming in to the den, she heard her youngest kit whimper.  As she hurried to soothe him, she heard the female talking in quiet tones, calming her baby.  She entered the den as the female curled her body round the kits, and rested her head on Father.

   At that moment, Vixen realised what had happened to her family.  She had lost them to the female.  Vixen softly left the den and went out into the snow covered forest.  She found a quiet spot and lay down, her heart breaking, slowing, as she tried to sleep in the cold.  She knew if she could sleep for long enough that the cold would take over and her heart would ache no more.  The female would have won, but the pain would stop.

   As Vixen was floating away, she felt a warmth against her cheek.  A soft muzzle sniffed her and whimpered.  Vixen struggled to open her eyes, and saw the brown eyes of youngest kit gazing back at her.  The eyes were filled with love.  The eyes were what she needed.  Vixen stirred herself, forcing herself to move her frozen limbs, forcing her heart to start beating faster.  She would not be beaten.  There was pain, but more importantly, there was love.  She rolled youngest kit over in the snow, playing with him and laughing.

   A few more days passed, and Vixen bided her time.  She continued to embrace the female, but she did not let her close.  She knew the danger was still very real.  That night, the snow fell long and heavy.  The forest was buried beneath the snow, the scents hidden, the paths gone.  Vixen knew that now was her chance.  Father went to try to find some food, and Vixen found the female.  She told her that middle kit was missing, and that she needed her help to find her.  The female looked concerned, but Vixen wasn’t fooled.  She told her that she had seen middle kit heading north through the trees, and asked the female to go and check for her whilst she cared for the other two kits.

   The female sauntered into the forest in the direction Vixen had suggested.  She looked calm and relaxed, safe in her place in the family.  The snow began to fall again, and Vixen started to follow the female.  She stayed back, far enough to go unnoticed, but near enough to see.  Soon, the female reached the place that Vixen had pointed her towards.  The ground began to slide beneath her feet.  Vixen stood high on a rock, and watched as the snow covered ground gave way beneath the female’s feet, and she fell into the hidden crevice.

   Vixen quietly returned to her den.  Father came home with the food, sniffed for female but accepted his vixen explaining that the female had found her pack and returned home.  Night fell once more, and Vixen looked outside her den.  All was peaceful in the forest.  She sighed and quietly stepped back inside, curled around her kits and lay her head on her mate’s chest.  She had won.

The idea is to write a story with the following criteria.
1. Someone get's attacked/killed
2. However that person turns the tables on their attacker/killer, how do they do it and what happens next?