The two guards followed the fox, firing their guns occasionally. Soon they got lost and tangled. The commanders weren't used to dealing with the forest, really. They were just slave guards. One suggested giving up, but the other pointed out how they'd had nothing more interesting to do all day, and that the third guard was watching their post. So they tried to find tracks, and eventually spotted the fox, who seemed stuck. "A perfect target" One said, raising his pistol.
Whirle
Whirle, still a small, sleek, black-dappled silver cat, inspected his leg. It was still bleeding, but not very much. He decided he should go help whoever it was that had helped him- he was certain it had not been a regular fox. They weren't all that courageous.
Whirle gave himself one more minute for rest, then he got up and padded to where the last guard was, staying out of sight. He sniffed the area and caught the fox's scent easily. They didn't smell particularly good to a cat's nose. He started following the scent. He'd have changed into his hawk form, which might have made finding the fox easier, but shifting only hurt his leg more, so he decided against it.