3. The Birth of Rabbit

The Birth of Rabbit


  • account: mirrorpool
    character: Rabbit

    _To be in the grass in the peacefullest time,
    Without that monument of cat,
    The cat forgotten in the moon;

    And to feel that the light is a rabbit-light
    In which everything is meant for you
    And nothing need be explained."
    -Wallace Stevens, "A Rabbit As King Of The Ghosts"_

    All day the town lay in the shadows of thick storm clouds. The air felt heavy and sharp with the taste of smoke. Tongues could scarcely lift to sti words and what words were said pained the ear like thunderclaps. The heavens had let fall their weight down onto men's shoulders as if the gods themselves had congregated here in Norwick.

    All day the hin child had to stay out from underfoot of the miltia and other big men who ran up and down the streets. They barked orders at each other or the children or the simple laborors or noone in particular. They seemed to be in an awful hurry, the hin thought, but they were always in an awful hurry, his father said. But this time there were goblins at the gates, his mother said. There's always goblins at the gates, his father said. That is why we build gates and walls higher than any goblin can reach.

    All the same, the hin child wasn't allowed far from the house, nor out at all after dinner. And it seemed to him quite unfair, for they had dinner much earlier that evening.

    The first sound they heard was a snap of wood like a tree falling. The neighbros began screaming, first a few then all at once. It was impossible to make out what they were upset about. Maybe they had dropped something through the floor, the child thought,.

    Mother and father didn't go check. They pulled him with them to the beds. The other family in the house did the same. The fire was low, but nobody went outside for more fuel.

    Then there was another osund of snapping wood. The man who lived in the old attic scarried about. Then the floor gave. The child's mother laid on top of him and he couldn't brathe but she wouldn't get off so he pushed and kicked but then all he saw was blackness.

    He smelled the smoke first, then felt his body pinned and broken. But he couldn't tell where he was or which was west or which was down until the clouds cleared and he was bathed in the light of the moon.

    She seemed to pity him, lying there, cold and alone and trapped, but now he knew he was outside, though he didn't remember if he had been allowed out or snuck out. And he could see that he was lying in a giant pile of lumber, some of which smouldered, some burned, some groaned like old men. But the moon drew back his attention.

    Selune, he thought. That was the name his mother taught him. Her calm cool light put him at peace. There was a sharp pain in his back, but he drifted off to sleep anyway.

    There were goblins in front of him, goblins behind him and all around. Short ones, fat ones, tall ones. Goblins painted red, goblins painted yellow. His feet wanted to run, but there was no where to run. They began to close in and poke him with their spears. He must remain still, he thought. If he didn't move, they wouldn't see him. They began to poke his limp form with their spears.

    He awoke wanting to scream. He heard a terrible sound, like the wheezing whistling noise of an animal being tortured. He couldn't breathe. Then the noise stopped and he began panting. It was him. He had screamed. Had the goblins heard? He tried to glance around, but there was something heavy laying across his throat. All around him was blackness, except for the patient silver coin that hung high in the sky.

    Rabbit watched as the men who cleared away the damaged lumber broke for midday. He had tried very hard not to be seen. He was getting better. Very few ever saw him at night, and at day, he managed to passed unnoticed most of the time if not unseen. He was sure that he passed most days unheard: the collapsed house had taken his speech.

    The last of the men left the rubble, and Rabbit carefully made his way to the heart of it. He found what he came for immediately, almost surprised at how easy it was. The men may have seen the glimmer of silver from the dirt, or they may not have, but it was only the hin's thin arms that let him reach it. He pulled out the silver chain with a bejewelled crescent suspended. He took these two gifts his mother had left him - his life and this token - as signs that he had survived for a purpose. He didn't know what, but he would be patient. He had learned to sit still for long streches of time. Nothing came by hurrying, he knew this now. He could wait as long as it took.


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