golden fox and a sweet small child

At first I thought you were me.

It took some time.

I don't remember exactly when it dawned on me? You were rage. Not my rage. Teeth bared. Yes, I acknowledged, there was plenty to rage about. 

There was something like an escape or a release I felt and somehow also saw, a feeling I followed out a door in my pelvis. You were gone. 

A small golden fox appeared. It wasn't clear if it was once the wolf or if I had mistaken the wolf to be a fox and then the fox sort of scrambled into my womb and a small child appeared maybe two or three-years-old. It was like they appeared out of the shadows of the raging wolf, finally. Safe to be seen and not devoured. 

I remembered that child from another time and place, when she was caged and starving. Here, although tired, she was relieved, reunited with her golden fox and settled down to sleep.