Blood dripped, spreading a crimson stain across the mists.

No matter how hard Jake scrubbed his hands, how much water he used, it only smeared the endless flow of blood around.

His world was tainted red.

Jake knew it was his fault.

A stone was lodged in Jake's gut, and his heavy heart was a constant reminder.

It was his fault.

He knew that.

What’s my fault?

He was only trying to help.

They begged him for his help.

Jake knew that any help he could give would be better than their deaths.

He was wrong.

The help he gave was death.

An individual does not make a people.

And now there are no more people.

Powers Jake did not understand flowed through him as if he was in control.

Like he knew the cost.

What was the cost?

Jake looked down.

Below him, a city burned.

Blood flowed out of the city, staining the surrounding plains.

Savage beasts and man lay intermingled along the streets.

The center of the broken city was the origin of the bloody river.

At the corners of the square, hoards of wolves and giant three-horn-monstrosities were held back by mountains of human corpses.

Around the edges of the square, row upon row of small gravestones marked another death.

Everything was unmoving, except a lone girl and giant lizard at her side.

They stood facing a pile of dead children at the center of the square.

As Jake watched them, the girl looked up at Jake and raised her right hand, pointing at the pile of corpses as tears rolled down her face while her other hand brushed against the beast's flank.

The image tried to burn itself into his mind, but it was already there.

It had been there for...

Eternity sounded right.

Jake knew it was his fault.

Could feel it in his bones, but he could not remember...

What did he do?

Why did he do it?

Everything but the fact that he did, had long since been clouded.

The mists ate all as eternity progressed.

He thought any slim chance was better than destruction.

And then he destroyed them.

But this is a dream.

Only a nightmare.

A dream to be forgotten when he wakes.

He was waking even now.

The tingling of his body prickled at his awareness. The brush of a breeze coupled with the rustling of a tree. Heat prickled on his skin. Sensation called to him from beyond the mist. Beyond the mists are pain.

Even now, the horrid image slipped into Jake's mind. "Only a nightmare. Only a nightmare," Jake might have whispered to himself, attempting to ease the irrational anxiety. It did not help.

More images out of horror movies burn through his mind before receding, waiting to surface again.

Why does it hurt? It's just a dream? Jake thought.

Jake thought? When was the last time he thought? Not since the dream.

The dream in which he…

What did he dream about?

Jake didn't know. His heart hurt like it was clenched in a fist, and his stomach like he'd been gut-punched every time he...thought about it?

As Jake rose from the delirium of half-consciousness, he realized the minor emotional turmoil of bad dreams was a symptom of another chronic problem.

Jake's body hurt.

Hurt wasn't quite the right word, but it was close enough and got the point across. Soreness might be better. Tender was, ok...

Discomfort was an understatement.

What Jake was feeling was the result of sitting on his ass for way too long.

His back needed to be popped, his arms needed to be stretched, and his legs, well, Jake did not feel anything below his waist, which was a solid indication that they needed to be moved.

Most of all, though, Jake was hungry. This was not the hungry, I haven't eaten in a few hours, "I'm starving to death~!" typical whining. Jake's stomach was just... empty. Eating will be borderline painful as the food hits his shrunken stomach, assuming he could even keep it down.

Jake could feel strands of consuming-need radiating out of his stomach. While his stomach was a gnawing void chipping away at the rest of his body.

The tendrils sought out any hidden stash of strength inside Jake, to the point that Jake gave even odds that he would pass out if he stood up.

Jake wanted to go back to sleep, not because he was suicidal or something. Jake knew if he was feeling this degree of hunger, starvation was dangerously close. He wanted to sleep so he wouldn't have to feel his body anymore.

He was exhausted, even if he was just waking up.

If he went back to sleep, all he would have to deal with were a few disturbing nightmares that he couldn't even remember.

Humans are very good at ignoring. Someone says a fact that doesn't fit your belief? Never existed. An exponential threat to existence is going to destroy the world? Well, it's not here yet, and I got a tee time at four, so...

Anyone who says they can't think of a time when they ignored something for their convenience is either blatantly lying or not mentally capable of doing so.

There is a limit to that, however. Pretending something does not exist does not make it go away. Eventually, all bills come due.

It sucked, but Jake needed to move.

The situation was similar to when Jake fell asleep with the window open in the middle of winter but only had one blanket covering him. He woke up at some point in the early morning because he was freezing.

Jake thought of grabbing the second blanket on the bed, cause he's not one of those savages with a single blanket on their bed, but decided to do the logical thing instead, reposition his blanket and go back to sleep.

And then he woke up again, even colder, and was faced with the same choice. Jake might have repeated the process a few times, no way of knowing for sure.

In any case, eventually, he was faced with a single fact.

He had gotten enough rest that the scales of need to rest and too-damn-cold to fall asleep again had shifted to too-damn-cold.

Either he lays there and suffers pointlessly, possibly to his own detriment, or he could get up and do something about it.

Jake was at that point. Again.

Thing was, morning person, Jake was not.

The hunger was more than enough to get Jake to start moving. Doesn’t mean that I’m not gonna complain... Jake mentally grumbled to himself.

First off, Jake opened his eyes.

His eyelids began twitching as they tried to open. They did not open.

Ohh, parts cracked open, but most of Jake's eyelid was sealed shut.

Hand shooting up to his face, frantically rubbing at his eyes, Jake scraped off the caked-on gunk keeping his eyes shut.

Blinking to remove the bit that got pushed into his eye, Jake muttered, "That's one way to get up."

After getting the gunk from his eyes, Jake looked at his hand and arm, flinching back in shock and gasping, "What the fuck?"

Jake was still exhausted. It was like those moments when your hand tingles and then feels weak. You can try and make a fist but can't exert a fraction of your strength. It is not something you can control or overcome by force of willpower; you just physically can't exert yourself to your full potential for whatever reason.

Jake's whole body felt like that.

Jake also felt no real effort as he flexed and swung his arm around, clenching and unclenching his fist.

The sheer ease of his movement was like he was pumped up on adrenalin and readying for a fight.

It was great.

So long as Jake ignored he was skin and bones.

That is not an exaggeration. Jake was literally skin and bones. His skin was so tight it outlined every bone and joint. If Jake was to flex his bicep, you might be able to measure it in millimeters, probably not. What’s smaller than millimeters?

Also, his arm could not extend all the way. Whether the cause was his tendons or his nearly non-existent muscles, Jake did not know. All he knew, and all he really needed to know, was that at around a hundred thirty degrees extension, his arm would not go any farther.

Jake was not going to see if he could force his arm farther. Even he had limits to being stupid.

As Jake tested the limit to his range of movement, a black gunk caking his—and the rest of his body—began to flake off.

Jake examined the area around him and found he was sitting on a rock at the peak of his mountain. A warm breeze brushing against him, caressing his decrepit body.

The gust of air was hard to miss, and it was not because he was on the top of a mountain and the wind was so strong it would bowl him over if he wasn't careful. Jake noticing the breeze so effortlessly would be apparent if an objective viewer came around.

He was naked.

Around him on the ground were what might be the remnants of fabric if it was left to weather for years on end. What sealed the deal for them being Jake's old clothes was a few pieces of metal sticking out of the mass.

Covering Jake's body, though? Not a scrap.

Jake was confused. It was not that he was naked. That answer was simple and was backed up by his body, no matter how terrifying and improbable.

What confused Jake was the new mountain range surrounding his valley—at least the one he was on was still the tallest, so he had a good view of the surrounding area.

So what if Jake was on the same mountain, and what was supposed to be the same mountain range that he spent a large chunk of his teens exploring with his grandpa. What made Jake so important that he could expect geography to remain the same?

Pretty conceded of him, Jake knew.

It did kind of make sense. If something can destroy a world and lock him in some sort of subspace, not counting all the other people on Earth, it could create some new mountains.

His cage might have expanded, but off in the distance and above him, he could still make out the barrier of mist.

"Don't know why it couldn't keep the same mountains..." Jake said, "no need to show off."

A brief moment passed that Jake considered if this was a dream, but then immediately rejected it. Who would have this much pain in a dream?

Looking down, Jake was trying to process that he was, well...skeleton would not be wrong.

Jake glanced over at the trial to the top of the mountain. He half expected someone to crest it then scream, "AHHH! There's a walking skeleton up here!"

Jake might have something to say that he was closer to a zombie, but it was semantics.

Slowly, cautious that he would hurt himself, Jake stretched out his legs while he arched his back, moaning in pleasure at the rapid string of pops his back made. He rotated a few times, lifted his arms, and swung them around, trying to stretch. Jake felt great.

No, not really. Jake felt like shit left on the ground for days as it was continuously stepped on due to the constant hunger.

Stretching did make Jake feel significantly better, though, as most of the other annoyances disappeared.

The aches and pains that built up over—nope, not thinking how long— vanished in seconds once he started moving.

There was still a gnawing void in his stomach, spreading weakness through his body, but that was a separate matter. One that Jake intended to deal with now.

Jake needed food. Lots and lots of food. And there was only one place he knew should have food.

Turning from the mass of uncharted mountains, Jake faced Pine Lake and began walking.

There was no pain as he walked. His joints and muscles were stiff but quickly worked themselves out.

Jake paused at the plateau's edge as he looked down; he had no shoes. Wiggling his toes a bit, Jake slid his foot to the side, inspecting the sharp-edged rock he was standing on.

Any typical person who walks around barefoot outside will realize pretty quickly that they have bitch feet. As in, stepping on a rock or sharp leaf fucking hurts because they have no calluses on their feet.

This rock felt like practically nothing. It was like he was standing on a tiny grain of sand. Mildly irritating if he stayed there for long, but nothing that couldn't be ignored.

It should have felt like he stepped on a spike and, depending on how fast and how much weight he put down, drawn blood.

It didn't; his foot was fine. Don’t gotta go asking for injuries, Jake thought as he slowly traveled down the trail, testing his every step before putting his full weight down.

Slow, careful steps quickly increased as each step felt like little more than walking around with boots on no matter what he was stepping on. As Jake's body felt relatively fine and his footing became less and less of a concern, he began to transition into a run.

If something actually hurts his feet, Jake might rethink what he was doing, but until then, he was going to do what he wanted.

Jake began to push himself faster and faster as he raced down the hill.

Laughter bubbled up inside him for the unbridled enjoyment of movement with the wind in one's hair.

With his hair now grown out to the point it reached small of his back, it must have been quite the sight. Though it was weird that he didn't have a beard, not that he minded, Jake never liked his beard and found it a hassle more than anything else.

The running, however, was a child's simple pleasure Jake relished.

As he made his way down the mountain, his stomach pain gradually worsened.

Jake did not care. He was leaping over boulders, bounding off trees, and then running as fast if not faster than a horse. It was hardcore-parkour if Jake had ever seen it.

Leaping off a boulder over a ravine onto the side of a tree, Jake pushed off, grabbing a branch on a nearby one and swinging off it onto another boulder, which he then leaped off of and resumed running.

Jake needed to release some tension.

The end of the earth happened, but Jake was somehow still alive. Whatever the cost might eventually be, right now, it was time to live.

And although Jake had just woken up after falling asleep on apocalypse day—might not have been the same day, though, was kind of blurry at the end—there was still one fact. Something that drove home what Jake did not want to contemplate.

More than his body.

More than his hair.

Seeing the small sapling behind the rock he was sitting on made it abundantly clear. It was not a one-foot-tall sprout someone could step on and kill but rather a gnarled fifty-plus-foot tall ancient oak.

Jake, a running over-powered skeleton performing parkour, is weird.

But Jake could feel Qi entering and moving around his body, giving him strength.

Jake performed physical feats outside of human limitations compared to Earth standards. Actions that were possible thanks to Qi.

If it could enhance his body, why can't Qi prolong and sustain his life by itself, like in the novels?

In other words, Jake surviving however many weeks, months, or years it had been while not starving or dying of thirst up on the mountain, made a little sense in that context.

Or enough sense that Jake did not bother questioning it in a fruitless attempt to find answers he would probably never know. As his grandpa said, “Only worry about what you can change, fuck the rest.”

The tree was old, though. Like really old.

When you look and been around enough trees, you can guess an age. One to ten is easy. Approximating twenty-five to fifty is also not that hard. It's all about size. The ground quality can throw off guesses by stunting the growth, but you just have to take that into consideration.

After that, finding a tree older than seventy years is just hard. No one cared about preserving forests back then, and clear-cutting the land was the norm.

When you did stumble across that lone ancient tree, you could feel it.

Jake could, at least.

The sapling he woke up under was old. Older than any tree he had previously come across in all his life. Sitting underneath its bows gave Jake a sense of... antiquity. Ya, that’s what I felt.

Saying something is really old is kind of childish, but sometimes, you need to be a child. When people start bringing up numbers like fifty, seventy-five, and a hundred, who really understands the context.

What does it means that a hundred years have passed? No! Nope, not gonna go there. Just remember it wrong.

Saying something is really old is the same as someone saying, "that tree is hundreds of years old." Except they’re not pretending like they comprehend what that means.

Like anyone who says they understand how a skeleton is running faster than Olympic athletes.

"This world is broken," Jake whispered as he slowed to a walk. He was finally down the mountain, and even though he ran the whole way, he never lost his balance or slowed for a second on the narrow paths.

His stomach was worse than ever as he stood looking where his cabin and fields spread out along the sides of the lake.

The fields were no longer empty; instead, they were a lush garden of produce. And Jake could already tell his cabin was a chard husk.

The scorch marks marring its surface made that relatively clear. As he inspected the remnants of his house, Jake walked down to the field's edge.

Squatting down, Jake scooped up a hand full of the rich soil. It was him.

A part of him, at least. He could feel the Qi inside of himself resonating with the Qi in the dirt.

Jake and the dirt were one, connected through Qi, but also something more. Probing the Qi inside himself, Jake could feel the connection like a finger attached to his hand. Jake sent Qi from inside of him into the soil with a twitch of his will. The soil soaked the Qi up like a sponge.

There was no resistance as Qi passed from his body to the soil, as if it had never left his body at all.

Working the dirt in his hand, Jake let it fall between his fingers.

As the clumps of dirt hit the ground, the increased connection to the handful of soil did not fade. Instead, the connection spread to the surrounding area. It was not merely the bit of dirt in his hand and the sprinkling on the ground but the entire valley Jake was beginning to feel.

The connection was similar to standing up after sitting on the toilet for the last hour and having the first pricklings of pain on your legs as feeling returned.

Every plant, rock, and grain of dirt Jake was connected to. It was like suddenly looking backward and seeing wings sprouting from his back. Weird but natural.

A part of him that was always there, even if he never bothered to look.

It was so natural that Jake didn't realize he had been subconsciously ignoring the whisperings of plants. The needs and wants of several hundred acres of plants as they struggled to survive was passing through the back of his mind.

Like a newly missing tooth, it was all Jake could do to keep himself from prodding the land with his mind and drowning in the sea of information. It was going to take some time for Jake to function normally again.

The thing was, that was another problem that Jake did not feel like facing.

What really mattered, was that Jake's Qi was listening to him now.

With a thought and slight effort, Qi would surge through his body. He could even push it out of his body, spewing Qi into the air like a fountain. Once released into the air, the Qi would dissipate in moments, but he could, and did, do it for his entertainment.

Though he could now push Qi around, it was not all that long of a step from being unable to control his Qi while dying on the porch of his cabin to now.

Before, Jake's body was a hole being filled with Qi. Most of the Qi was being absorbed into the barren Qi starved walls of his body. The tiny bit of Qi flowing around his body would take skill and experience to control.

Jake did not have that.

Right now, Jake was slapping his metaphorical hand against a pool of water. There was so much Qi in and around him that not using Qi would be more challenging and impressive than using it.

Jake inspected the air before him, specifically the Qi floating in the air. The Qi had...condensed. That was the best way to describe what Jake was seeing.

During the apocalypse and now, the Qi in the air was like the difference between looking out into a heavy bone-rattling downpour of rain and opening your eyes underwater.

The Qi was so thick it permeated everything, including Jake.

Am I still a creature of flesh and blood? The line might have shifted a bit durning my…sleep. Jake shook off his unnecessary thoughts.

The analogy was good, but it gave the impression that one's vision would be impaired to some degree by the Qi, which was not true at all. Jake had to focus to see Qi at all.

It was quite the opposite. Jake could see better with Qi in the air. Like it was a crystal clear day without any pollution hanging around.

Whether it was the Qi floating around helping clear the air of pollution or his vision sharpening was up for debate. The fact was, he could see better.

Occasionally a powerful gust of one type of Qi would make itself known as Jake looked around. Usually, the surroundings were covered in a pure neutral Qi that blended with every other kind of Qi until only the neutral Qi remained.

How are you supposed to pick out an individual drop of water inside an ocean? You're not. That would be absurd.

Looking at the fields before him, Jake felt at home. More so than he ever had back in any forest back on Earth.

It was the Qi.

There was also something deeper Jake could feel at the edges of his awareness, but it was mostly the Qi.

It formed a tangible, easily traversed and managed, bridge between Jake and the land.

The plants, the very air, radiated with his power.

If he wanted to, he could reach out. Grasp the power and pull it into him. Taking too much power would hurt the land, hurt him, but a little would be fine.

So he did.

Jake took some Qi from the plants around him, not enough from any one to matter, just a skimming of the surface. Streams of Qi flowed to him, filling him with Qi to the point he was overflowing before Jake stopped letting Qi enter his body and instead let the power pour off him like a rock in a waterfall, until he gave enough conscious effort to stop pulling the Qi to him.

It was like a spigot on a sink, once open it would remain so until closed.

Pulling and stopping the Qi was easier for Jake than expelling his Qi into the air, because all the Qi was his. It was like pushing Qi from his head to his feet. The difference was the location and Jake feeling slightly bloated from holding extra Qi.

Holding on to the Qi for a second longer, Jake sent it back. They were one. All Qi was his. What did it matter where the Qi was stored.

Aside from the questions of Qi, which were interesting, Jake was currently more focused on the God sent paradise before him. The most beautiful thing Jake had ever born witness to.

A garden.

Not a stupid flower garden.

A garden full of food.

His stomach growled like a caged beast. Which reminded him off—blurred glimpses of him spinning around with seed bags flashed through Jake's mind for a moment.

Shaking himself as a shiver ran threw him, Jake forced his mind away from that time. It was disorientating to remember the madness induced by—

Frowning as the last of the dirt trickled out of his hand, Jake dusted off his hands and stood up. Throwing bags of seeds around on the tilled ground was not a great way to grow crops.

Competition is a fact of existence. Put a bunch of plants together, and there will be issues. Not enough nutrition in the soil, light, water, or room to grow, ends in underdeveloped or dead plants.

Another thing is that all nature strived to be a forest. It is nature's optimal state. If it's not, there is a reason for it. Too much heat, not enough water, too much water, too windy, or not enough nutrients. Any number of reasons could be the cause.

With human intervention, these issues could be overcome to some degree with enough work.

Jake did not work the field. He was busy sitting on a rock under a tree.

So no one worked the crops?

"I call bull," Jake muttered as he looked closer at the garden.

The garden was too organized to be natural. Paths were leading through the mess.

The trails were lined with daisies, tulips, and roses in different sections, with a small dirt path running down the center.

Closest to the side of the mountain where Jake was standing was an orchard consisting of orange, apple, pear, lemon, peach, plum, walnut, and almond.

Jake was reasonably sure those were within seeds he bought up here in all the shipments of supplies. Kind of lost tract of everything I bought.

Past the orchard closest to the river was a narrow rice paddy running the river's length.

In the center of the garden were patches of wheat and corn, with watermelon and pumpkins scattered around the edges of the crops closest to the river.

On the right side, opposite the river taking up the outer edge, was a line of grapevines. The area in between the corn and wheat was covered in different types of roots and tubers, like carrots, beets, potatoes, and onions.

The far side from Jake, the area closest to the cabin, and the smallest, was a herb garden taken up with mint, thyme, parsley, oregano, and rosemary.

It was weird knowing all of his for Jake. He could walk up to the plants and inspect them to figure out what they were, but seeing them hundreds of yards and knowing was new.

And that was it. He just knew what they were. Like the information was shoved into his head. Jake knew it was his connection to the land at work, but it was still weird.

Jake inspected the garden—because it was too orderly and varied to be anything other than a garden—then glanced over the rest of the valley. It was surreal.

There was intent—more like instinct actually—behind Jake's actions when he was mad because of—

The knowledge of what happened hit Jake. He had Claimed the land.

This was not like owning land.

It was a primal act that bound a soul to the land and the land to a soul. Jake felt connected to the land and its Qi because he was the land and its Qi.

How exactly it happened, Jake did not know or care. If he inspected his memories, he might get a clue... but that was dangerous.

Dwelling on certain... things could end badly for Jake.

All Jake knew and needed to know was that Claming the land saved his life. However it happened, was besides the point.

Walking forward, Jake entered the Garden of Eden—what else could it be for a starving man?

The quality of the crops was beyond anything Jake had ever seen outside of a produce competition. And even then, the quality of the produce competition was on the lowest end of what he saw here.

The skins of bright red apples glinted in the sun. None that Jake could see, and he knew none of the others, had blemishes or deformations. Without even holding an apple, let alone biting into one, Jake could smell the sweet tang of the apples above him. It made his mouth water in anticipation.

Stepping under a bough of the apple tree, Jake eyed the plump vibrant red skin of the apples. They glinted in the light of the fake sun. Jake could see his arm's reflection as it snapped up, grabbing the apple.

Bringing the Apple to his face, Jake froze a moment breathing in the scent before taking a bite.

It was, hands down, the best thing Jake had ever tasted.

He was starving, but Jake doubted that had much to do with it.

Chewing and swallowing as fast as possible, Jake downed everything but the stem and core within moments.

Jake then grabbed a couple more apples before moving deeper into the—his garden.

It was his. He could feel it.

A few steps later, Jake grabbed and ate the best pear of his life.

Then the best orange and peach.

Where have you been all my life? Jake thought in wonder, looking at the food laid out around him.

Jake took a few moments to crack open a few walnuts by crushing them in a fist before he popped them into his mouth and moved past the trees.

Everything he was eating right now was better than anything else Jake had previously eaten. Really the only stuff comparable what the other fruit he had already eaten.

Amazingly, Jake's stomach felt surprisingly well. As in, he was not curled up on the ground in pain, vomiting out everything he had just eaten.

Anyone starved for a serious length of time knows that eating or drinking anything of large quantity is immediately followed by it coming back up. Have to slow down. Take it slow…

Grabbing a clump of grapes, Jake shoved half of them into his mouth, swallowing before taking a bite of his last apple, before skipping over and taking a cob of corn off the stalk.

Sweet corn right off the stalk is amazing; this is godly, Jake thought as he moaned in pleasure.

Walking along the dirt paths, Jake left cobs, cores, and that piece of a grape-bundle in the center that holds all the grapes together on in his wake.

The scent of roses drifted around him as the faux sun warmed his skin. Jake was enjoying himself.

Plenty of food. Pleasant weather. And relaxing on one's own property. Who could ask for more? Company would be nice...

Finally, Jake exited The Garden with a load of corncobs under one arm and a cluster of grapes for each finger.

Pausing for a second, Jake inspected his cabin again. The remnants of it, at least.

The exterior was bare wood with mild to moderate scorching on it. The walls and roof still stood at least, if somewhat worn. But the windows and what he could see of the interior did not bode well.

Soot stained the frame while the insides of the cabin were charred like an alligator's hide. Jake could see some spots of pristine wood. They were the exception, not the rule, however.

Walking around to the front, the rest of the windows and vacant door told the same story.

A smile twitched at his lips when he saw his slightly scorched rocking chair off to the side of the porch. It looked a little worn but was still sturdy enough to hold him.

"Who dares to intrude upon my rest!" Jake jumped a little at the voice, dropping a few cobs of corn, "I will make you bleed for the insult!"

Sweeping his eyes around the front of the cabin, Jake looked for the source of the voice. He cared little for the threat one way or another; Jake was just excited to talk to someone.

It had been…too long since he last spoke to someone. And the last time, I killed her tribe.

A spike drove through his heart at the thought. Jake had no idea where it came from, let alone its context.

His brow wrinkled as he concentrated on the half memory bubbling to the surfa—

"I'm talking to you, you oaf. Ahhh! You smell! Do you know what hygiene is? Have you ever taken a bath? I know it must be hard for an imbecile, but will you do everyone a favor and clean yourself once in your life?"

Jake looked down at the deck of his cabin at the voice. A rabbit was sitting there, nose scrunched and ears flicking.

He did not notice it when he first approached with his focus on the cabin. After the voice spoke the first time, Jake saw it, noted how bold it was, then ignored it.

Rabbits didn't talk.

Jake watched the rabbit's mouth move in time to the voice the second time he heard it.

Rabbits talked like condescending sneering assholes.

The rabbit was standing on his back legs now, sitting up with his nose scrunched up and forepaws wiping his nose. One of the paws came away, waving at Jake to shoo, "Back up! Leave! Get out of here! I will look past you raiding my garden if you just leave my poor nose alone!"

Dropping everything he was holding, Jake collapsed to the ground laughing, eyes tearing up as he locked eyes with the rabbit.

A flash of indignant fury passed through the rabbit's eyes before it dropped forward, pushing itself towards Jake like a cannonball with its back legs. The rabbit rotated its foot spinning around in a leaping spinning sidekick, ears flailing in the air behind it.

The rabbit hit Jake on the face, bowling him backward.

Rolling several times from the force, Jake came to a stop flopping onto his back, nose bleeding, cackling with half-deranged laughter.

Choking as he spoke, Jake got out, "A rabbit—kicked—the shit out—of me!"

The rabbit appeared above Jake, sneering, "And I'm gonna kill you n--Ahhh!”