Day 14

I was at my limit.

Five days of danger and stress had taken their toll and now I struggled to keep going. It didn't help that I didn't manage to hold on to my light. Even if I found moments to plant my roots, I never managed to fully replenish and I found that running and stressing drained my reserves much faster than normal. I just couldn't keep up and so, little by little, my strength left me.

The dawn of the fourteenth day found me trudging tiredly across a grassy plain. It was only a small reprieve from the forest: in the distance, the treeline stretched in every direction.

The sight would have cheered me on on any other occasion. At that moment, it only made me think about new predators and dangers. Think, but not worry. I was so damn exhausted that I couldn't even muster fear anymore.

I managed to get close to the treeline before the last of my strength left me.

I slumped to the ground with a creaking of wooden joints.

Long moments passed, the silence unbroken but for the whistling of the wind and the fair cries of birds. Probably more monsters.

Parts of me shouted that I needed to get up and move, to find a safe place, but I couldn't bring myself to listen. That forest was immense. I probably could have walked for a year and not find an exit, or somewhere even closely resembling safety. A year of constant danger and running.

What was even the point?

A deep sense of futility floated inside me.

The voice insisted, but I ignored it. Rest, that's what I needed. Rest! That word felt almost magical. I needed it with a passion. I'd rest and then… then we'd see. If some monster wanted to come along and eat me while I did so, he was welcome. I just didn't care anymore.

The rabbits rustled on my shoulder, reminding me that I wasn't alone in that.

Mustering what little I had left, I untangled my vines and let my furry passengers down.

Sorry, little ones, I thought, watching them explore their new surroundings. I don't think I can carry you anymore.

With whatever I had over me, drawing all the damn beasts this side of the world to me, those little guys were much safer on their own. It hurt to watch them go, but I had no choice. Better for me to go alone and them their way than to keep going like that.

I made a motion with my vines, trying to shoo them away. As I feared, the kids just took it as a new game, hopping and trying to catch them. Mama just watched me.

I hesitated. That… that felt far harder than I thought.

But it was necessary. I hardened myself.

The hard whack I struck the ground with had the children jump and mother tense abruptly. It took another three, each getting close to hurt them, before they caught the message and bolted for the trees.

If I could breathe, I would be panting as I watched them go.

Mama stopped and looked back. That actually made me angry. Why wasn't she just getting the damn message?

Go away!, I screamed mentally, grabbing a stone and throwing it at her.

She easily moved out of the way, the rock bouncing on the spot she had been. Throwing me a last glance, she turned and followed her children, disappearing among the trees.

I was left alone.

Emotions drained off me and I slumped down. I felt empty, but there was an echo of satisfaction as well. Without me, they'd be okay. They'd be okay…

I don't know how long I remained there, drifting in and out of conscience. Thankfully, I had rooted myself, so the light lulled me gently, easing at least a bit the fatigue that filled my body.

Eventually, a soft yet insistent nudging against my trunk woke me up.

For a moment, I floundered in panic, not knowing where I was and imagining it was another predator. Imagine my surprise when, remembering everything, I saw mama rabbit pushing against me!

Surprise gave way to frustration and I threw a half-baked slash with my vine.

Mama moved back, easily avoiding it, and hopped toward the trees. But, just as I was starting to hope she was getting away, she stopped and turned to look at me.

I heaved myself to a sitting position, watching her. What had got into her?

Always watching me, she thumped the ground with a backleg, then threw her head around. When I didn't move, she hopped back to me and nipped at my vines. Before I had a chance to retaliate, she was already out of my reach. She stopped at some distance, watching me.

I slowly got up. She was telling me to follow her, no doubt about it. But why?

Too tired and confused to argue, I obeyed.

Mama flicked her ears, before hopping toward the trees, me in tow.

She led me through the trees, stopping from time to time to give me the time to catch up. Being back under the canopy bettered minutely my humour, but I kept my guard up, or at least, tried to. I was too exhausted to do much more.

Eventually, the trees opened up and we stepped into a glade.

It was a pleasant place, calm and peaceful. Hummingbirds flitted among colorful flowers and the air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers. Birds chirped among the trees. Bees buzzed among the flowers, all taken with their job.

Despite everything, I felt some of my tension drain away.

Mama hopped calmly on the short grass, toward what looked to be a mound of fur stretched on the ground. All excited, the children hopped and jumped around it, stopping only to nip playfully and push themselves against the thing with affection.

As I watched, the mound shifted and a bulky head came into vision.

It was a rabbit, or at least whatever that strange world had for a rabbit. Mama was already big compared to her counterparts of my last life, but this one was a true giant. It was as big as a mastiff and even bulkier. Fat corded with muscles stretched beneath tightly packed white fur marred with heavy scars. His horn was a scary thing, looking more like a sword than mama's spear.

And damn, he was ugly!

Do you know how rabbits are? Fluffy, cute and all? Well, this one missed all the marks. He had a double chin from his massive neck and his cheeks were large and flabby. His eyes were beady and his irises weren't as large as normal rabbits, showing a lot of white and little, feral pupils. His incisors sprouted from his mouth like those of a rat. His ears were far too large and all nibbled and scarred at the edges.

Whatever a rabbit had of grace and cute was lost on this guy. He looked more like an oversized, ugly rat. The surly and angry vibe it gave off didn't help.

"Grunt grunt grunt".

The ugly rabbit kept making a grunting, throaty noise as he groomed and touched nose with the children. He pushed them over from time to time, making the pups tumble around. If they were annoyed, they didn't show them. Rather, they swarmed him, competing for his attention and showering him with their affection.

I was so stunned by the sight that I didn't notice mama hopping toward him until she was already beside him.

The big rabbit turned his head to her and they touched nose affectionately, making their horns clack together in such a precise way that I couldn't think it wasn't deliberate.

The affectionate way with which they greeted each other had me at a loss and I blanked for a few seconds before realization hit me like a punch in the head.

He was his mate!

If I looked up and saw that the sky was yellow, I wouldn't have been as much shocked. Mama was slender and graceful. Her kids were adorable bundles of fur. And that oversized rat was supposed to be their father?

I need to sit down…

Mama softly pulled at the ugly, making him notice me. He looked at me, and I didn't need to be an expert in animal expression to understand he wasn't overly happy at having me there.

He grunted, a low, hostile sound, laying a protective paw over one of the pups.

In all answer, mama rubbed her head against his. The movement seemed to placate him somewhat, even if he never took his eyes from me.

Making a sound eerily similar to a growl, the big rabbit stood up and lumbered out of the way, the pups hopping excitedly around him. Making his way to a side, he plopped back down and busied himself with grooming the children, but I never felt his attention leaving me.

I sighed in relief. That big furry thing looked tough enough already and I wasn't exactly in top shape. Also, the last thing I wanted was to have a scuff with mama's man.

Mama watched me, tilting her head in question.

Careful not to make brusque gestures, I walked to her.

She watched me for a moment, then nodded toward the direction her man had taken himself away from. The trees opened up them, their canopy joining together to form a gallery of soft shadows.

Do you want me to go there?, I wanted to ask. Did you bring me to your home?

Did she hope that I'd find safety there?

The thought moved me, but I wondered how wise it was, or if it was even possible. As a magnet for trouble, I didn't want to risk dragging more problems on them. And it wasn't like I could hide in a hole like them.

But I didn't have a mouth to express those doubts, and it wasn't like she could understand. So I just gratefully patted her with my vine. I'd try and see, even if only to make good on that offer. I just hoped that nothing…

A sudden ruckus behind me cut my thoughts short.

Whirling around, I saw with dismay a big beast trample its way into the glade. I almost jumped as I recognize it.

It was the bear!

I couldn't be mistaken. I had seen that ugly face of his far too close to. He still had the scratch mama gave him, nothing but a red line across his nose now.

The bear advanced into the glade, tongue lolling and snuffling loudly, before his eyes fixed themselves on me.

I gulped, stepping back. Watching him, I realized that I had been mistaken about his size.

The bear was massive, more than any other member of his species I had seen in my previous life. It was his head to be far too small for his body, planted on top of a grotesquely large neck that twisted and elongated as he turned around.

"Grunt grunt".

Papa rabbit stepped between the bear and me, surprising us both.

I was dismayed. The heck was he doing?

I waved my vines frantically, trying to shoo him away, but he ignored me. Instead, he grunted at the bear, stomping hard.

Overcoming his surprise, the bear growled threateningly. Sure as heck he wasn't scared. The difference in size between them was almost comical.

If he was fazed, papa didn't show it. He planted himself on all four, lowered his horn and stomped again, like rabbits that are annoyed or trying to warn their brethren do.

Or at least, that's what rabbits in my old world did.

That was the time I learned a few new things about horned rabbits. You see, rabbits of my old world were timid, peaceful and easily scared creatures. Prey animals in all, they lived in tension, trying their best to always remain one step ahead of predators, be it by constant attention, hiding or running. They were beautiful creatures, but weren't built to fight. They survived as a species through numbers and smartness, not strength.

Horned rabbits shared the love for their own peace, but that was all. The males especially were massively territorial creatures, ready to attack and gore anything that came too close to their nests. Fanatically protective of their pups and mates, they didn't scare easily and fought with beasts as big as elephants if necessary. What's more, they were strong, even stronger than their corded bodies suggested already. Their charge especially was something you ought to watch out for: an adult horned rabbit could skewer a fully grown man, before trampling him in the dust. And that strength was coupled with toughness and hardiness totally at odds with their counterpart from my world.

But wait. I was mistaken. There was one more important thing horned rabbits shared with old school rabbits.

They were very, very communal.

When a rabbit stomped, it was to convey irritation or to warn his burrow mates of a danger. It was a sentry signal.

When a horned rabbit stomped, it was because he had spotted an intruder coming too close to their nesting grounds.

It was a call to arms.

"Grunt grunt grunt grunt".

The sound of grunting filled the air.

One after the other, figures emerged from the trees. Horned rabbits, all of them, each fat and strong and looking grim.

Their numbers were astonishing. They kept emerging from the forest until more than half of the glade was filled with grunting furry things ready for war.

The last to come was a massive specimen, at least double the size of any other rabbit. He had to be very old, because his coat was sparse and patchy, showing off pockmarked skin that slouched or swelled. Around this patriarch, came a band of mangy-looking elders, bigger and tougher-looking than the rest.

The bear was taken aback by those numbers. The rabbits crowded all around him, cutting the air with their horns, unafraid of his size.

He hesitated, drawing back, but then pride had to reassert itself, because he recovered his aggression. He opened his mouth and roared, the sound making my bark tremble.

If they were intimidated, the rabbits didn't show it. They stomped and grunted, rasping on the ground with their forepaws and making threatening gestures with their horns.

Angry, the bear swiped.

It was a mistake.

The rabbit he aimed to easily avoided the blow, hopping back with a swift grace totally at odds with his bulky frame. Another bunch took the chance to quickly scurry to a side of the bear, entering in his blind spot.

The bear noticed it and turned to growl at them. In doing so, he offered his side to the ones he was facing before and you can stay sure they didn't miss their chance.

Two rabbits charged forward, slashing at his legs. Their horns drew blood instantly, making the bear yelp and jump.

He swiped, but the attackers were already out of reach.

That repeated itself again and again. The rabbits attacked in succession, with some taking the bear's attention while others came forward with no fear, to slash and puncture.

They did so with coordination and ruthlessness that sent shivers down my bark. They were like wolves, acting like a pack to methodically dismantle a bigger enemy.

Eventually, the bear drew back, covered in bleeding wounds. He was an experienced fighter, I knew that already, and had kept his cool admirably, keeping to a defensive posture, trying his best to avoid being completely surrounded and in so doing avoiding deep damage. But now, it was too much.

With a terrible roar, he threw aside all carefulness and launched himself against his tormentors. He swiped and bit, charging and trying to crush those in front of him. He was so angry and his assault was so furious that he even managed to graze some, the rabbits flying and bouncing back from the blows. But rage and pain had made him sloppy. His attacks lacked precision and he missed far more than he managed to hit. What's worse, charging recklessly like that made him a perfect prey.

Like it was a well-rehearsed play, the rabbits opened their formation, leaving him to pass even as they surrounded him.

The bear didn't realize what was happening until he ended face to face with one of the elders. The big rabbit took him head-on, smacking his swipe aside with a blow of his horn.

Stopped straight in his momentum, the bear yelped in confusion, before noticing how he was completely surrounded. Rage bled away from his features, replaced by fear.

Honestly, I almost pitied him there.

Then the rabbits pounced.

All at once, they came and attacked. Can you picture a meatgrinder? That was the closest I can come to describe the hurricane of slashing horns and angry grunts.

Surprisingly, they didn't kill him. They let him go, limping and covered in blood. I soon realized why with a start: he had to spread the word of what happened to those that strayed too close to their territory.

After it was clear that the danger was passed, the rabbits grunted at each other, crossing horns and licking at wounds. Many threw suspicious glances at me and for i moment I feared that I'd be their next target. Thankfully, mama and the buns came beside me, using their horns to scratch at my legs. It had to be some kind of friendly gesture because the rabbits turned from me after seeing it, even if they didn't look happy.

I underestimated them: they were far more intelligent than I thought.

One after the other, the rabbits streamed into the trees, back to whatever hidden home they had close by. The giant elder was the last to go, surveilling them as they passed. Before disappearing, he threw a glance that had me shiver down to my trunk.

I'd lie if I said that I didn't feel a rush of relief when the glade was empty once again. Grateful as I was, those critters were proper nasty. Not exactly the company you'd like to have.

Only papa, mama and buns remained, but I knew that it was time for goodbyes.

Papa had taken a nasty hit and there was blood coming down his cheek. Still, if he was bothered by it, he didn't show it.

Mama stood beside him, licking at his wound, to which the big rabbit grunted in grumpy approval.

She turned to me after a moment. Hopping to me, she passed her head against my leg and stopped to receive a pat before turning to gather her buns.

The kids happily hopped to take my pats before following their mother, excited to be home. The boldest stopped to look at me and I waved a vine to him. He jumped and flicked his legs, then hopped after his mother.

I watched him go. Damn, I could be tearing up a bit here…

Trying to keep my emotions at bay, I turned to papa.

The big rabbit watched me, his expression conveying nothing but the surly seriousness of rabbits. But the eyes, you see, the eyes had a gravity to them that talked books: I had returned his family to him and he was deeply, infinitely grateful.

I wanted to laugh. Those rabbits had saved me! Honestly, I did so little.

Also, I had a realization. If that was supposed to be the edge of their land and papa had been there already, it meant that he had been waiting there. For them to return.

Smiling, I hazarded a pat. Papa flinched a bit, before allowing me.

I patted him on the head affectionately. You're a good papa, you know? Good and proper tough.

Papa grunted and hopped away, leaving my vine hanging.

He stopped just once before disappearing into the trees, turning to bow his horn to me.

I was left alone in the glade.

I sighed. Well, that had been something alright. Too bad for the rabbits. I was going to miss them. But it was better like that…

I turned toward the corridor of trees. That was the way forward, I supposed. Who knew where it led?

I was still tired and a bit rattled, but for the first time in days, something that could have been called hope flickered inside of me.

In high spirits, I entered the forest once again.

Day 15

That was a strange place.

The tension I felt in the air previously was nowhere to be seen. The sounds of the forest, so loud and ever-present before, were muted, almost soft, and I couldn't hear anything like growls or any sounds of danger.

There was peace there and despite my attempts to cling to it, I felt my tension steadily drain away.

The path led me to a blooming meadow, at the center of which stood a mass of tumbled-down boulders. Water emerged from between the moss-covered rocks, before making its way into the forest, bubbling happily.

A wellspring!

Excited, I made my way to it.

Two verdant trees clung to the stones, their roots embedded deep into the rocks. They clung to each other as well, their trunks twisting like two lovers even as they drank from the waters.

Admired, I touched one of the trees with my vine. The wood was humid and covered in green moss.

I kneeled, touching the ground. The soil was rich there, falling through my fingers. I turned, taking in the place with a smile.

That was a good place. Good for resting and growing. And I needed to grow.

The rabbits had saved me - bless their soul -, but that didn't change the fact that I was alone and that world was dangerous. I couldn't rely on someone else swooping in to save me every time and that meant that I had to become stronger and bigger than I was.

Excitation rose inside me.

There was everything I needed there: a lot of sunlight, water and wonderful soil. Hopefully, there'd be time as well, but my instinct told me that it wouldn't be a problem.

The canopy opened over the meadow, allowing the sun to shine, great and bright.

I spread my vines wide, bathing in the brilliance. No matter where I went, I knew that I'd always honor the sun. And the same for the earth and the water. All of them, the forces that gave me life.

Grateful, I rooted myself. And so I remained, a little bush amidst the flowers, dreaming of a new me.