Books SFF Bestiary Fox at the Pinnacle: Rita Mae Brown’s Hierarchy of Creation The Sister Jane novels involve several intelligent species in a highly interconnected world, all centered around a complex sport. By Judith Tarr | Published on May 4, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share While I was reading Rita Mae Brown’s Mrs. Murphy mysteries, I had Questions about the role of horses as compared to cats and dogs. It seemed in the volumes I read that equines got shortchanged, even when they were nominally the center of the book. In the interest of further research, I dipped into another of her series, the Sister Jane novels. Sister Jane is a form of Virginia royalty: Master of Foxhounds, managing and overseeing the multitude of people and animals that participate in a fox hunt. Brown is writing what she knows. According to her bio, she holds that august office herself. In sixteen volumes and counting, Brown dives deep into the complexities of the sport. It’s an obsession and a passion, and as Brown writes it, it’s great entertainment. It’s also good worldbuilding. Brown’s setting is very much a part of the real world, but it touches on myth and magic. There are ghosts at the top of Hangman’s Hill, and the Grim Reaper might be seen up there with his scythe. Signs and omens come and go, and animals, and occasionally humans, take note of them. In this universe, animals talk to each other. They try to talk to humans, though not with much success. Humans, in animal terms, are functionally illiterate. Even when they seem to understand what’s being said, it may just be a coincidence. The main players are foxes, hounds, and horses. Sister has a house dog or two as well, and a calico cat who considers herself above it all, often literally, high on a shelf in the house or up a tree outside. Athena the great horned owl is a regular visitor, usually with wisdom to offer; later in the series, Bitsy the screech owl moves into the barn. Here, finally, I got my wish about horses. The horses in these books have distinct personalities and clear opinions. They’re willing partners in the hunt. Not every human rides well, and sometimes human ego or cluelessness causes problems, but Sister and her staff are strong and courageous riders. The horses appreciate that. They have their own take on what happens at home or on the hunt. They have a wicked sense of humor, and they take pleasure in pricking the bubble of human arrogance. The hounds are numerous, far more so than the horses, but Sister knows every one by name, and we meet many of them. We learn about their bloodlines, what they’re bred for, what kind of country they’re best for hunting in, who they are individually. Hounds are counted in couples and hunted in packs; they’re profoundly communal, but one, especially if they’re young or egotistical, may go off on their own, and get into various forms and levels of trouble. Sometimes they deepen a mystery. Sometimes they solve one. Singly and collectively, hounds are highly intelligent. They have a distinct hierarchy of age and position. When they hunt, they follow the instructions of the huntsman, supported by their own leaders and elders, but the huntsman respects their superior senses. It’s very much a cooperative venture. The pinnacle of all this creation, the reason for the hunt, the most intelligent of all creatures, is the fox. There are two subspecies in Brown’s Virginia, the red and the grey. They live and breed separately, but they share territory, and they may cooperate in a hunt if it suits their purposes. In the first volume, Outfoxed, the foxes collaborate in a grand strategy to avenge a slain fox and oppose an enemy, St. Just the Crow, who has a vendetta against one of the red foxes. It’s a complex plan with many parts, and one of those parts is set up and orchestrated by Sister Jane. She, being human, never knows how extensive the plan actually is, but she plays her part; she gets it done. She has better hound sense than most humans, and she understands foxes remarkably well within her limited capacity. She has tremendous respect for their intelligence. In this corner of the world, it’s a bad thing if a hunt harms a fox. Part of a master’s job is to look after the foxes in their territory, to recognize individuals, to be aware of the locations of their dens and runs. If conditions are difficult, they’ll make sure the foxes are fed and have access to shelter and clean water.  Brown’s foxes understand this and take it as their due. They have an interesting relationship with the hounds. They’re not enemies; they’re opposing teams. It’s all about the game. A hunt is a chase, a quest, with the hounds seeking a fox or foxes, and the fox setting out to outsmart the hounds. Some of them even have friends on the other team. Inky the black fox has a special relationship with the hound Diana, for example, and they share knowledge and information. On the hunt, each will support her team, but when they’re at home they have a surprising amount in common. This is a highly interconnected world. Everyone has a role to play, and while they may be on opposite sides of a game or a hunt, real and active enmity is rare. St. Just the crow hates the fox because killed his mate. He does dastardly things, but he has a reason for it. That’s true of the humans, too, though humans are far more cruel and egotistical than animals. There’s always a reason, or least an excuse. The best of them serve and protect each other and the animals with whom they share the world. They may not understand what the animals are saying, or that they’re talking at all, but they try. Sometimes they even succeed.[end-mark] The post Fox at the Pinnacle: Rita Mae Brown’s Hierarchy of Creation appeared first on Reactor.