His name was proudly raised on a banner waved furiously to and fro by the Pig, not that anyone was in any doubt as to who they were cheering for. Reynard looked about him. A tiny nucleus was gathered round the Wolf, bemoaning his traumatised state. This little group was headed by Bruin the Bear, with Tibert the Cat and Chantecler the Cockerel also in sad attendance. The rest of the crowd en-masse was triumphantly cheering the Fox, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back for his success.
Loyalty is a fragile thing, a highly perishable commodity.
The great bulk of the crowd were the same animals that earlier had called for his death, and had been looking forward to his public hanging. That was when Reynard appeared to be in a loosing position. They were not such fools however now. Reynard had cleared his name with honour, and they were all his closest friends. Everybody had known all along that the Fox was a tremendous fellow, had always said so, and were glad the Wolf had got his come-uppance.