The half-moon gleamed orange in the sky.
Birds rustled in the trees, insects clicked and scuttled through the underbrush, and around us, the paws of hundreds of rabbits scratched at the earth. But aside from the restless movement of the bunnies, the night was still.
Some of the rabbits slept right on the gravepost Connie had pointed to earlier. They didn't seem concerned about it. They just… slept. Must be nice, being a rabbit.
I lay on my back, staring up at the drifting constellations. Sleep wouldn't come.
Bacon snorted in his sleep. Silver's rhythmic breathing was steady beside me, his fur warm against my side.
The only person still awake was…
"Hey, kid," I murmured. "Still up?"
No response. Then, faintly—
"…Yeah."
That was something, at least.
"Can't sleep?" I asked.
A pause. Then, flatly:
"The last time I fell asleep, slime ate my entire family."
Oh. The weight of her words sank into me.
I hadn't noticed before, but now… her exhaustion was impossible to ignore. The dark smudges under her eyes. The way she blinked slowly, fighting the pull of sleep. How she twitched at the slightest sound.
She'd been forcing herself to stay awake this whole time.
"It's okay," I said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She recoiled.
I hesitated—then tried again, softer this time. "There's been no slime this far into the forest. And I bet Connie would kick any slime's butt back to the kingdom if it tried to attack us."
I pitched my voice light, comical, hoping it might cheer her up.
"Shut up, or I'll kick you out," Connie whisper-yelled from the other side of the tree.
I sighed.
I'd never had a sibling, but looking at Meili—small, tired, and curled in on herself—I figured I at least had to try to make her feel better.
It didn't work.
She just hugged her bag even tighter. The way her fingers clenched the fabric as she shivered in the night's cold told me all I needed to know.
She wasn't going to sleep tonight.
. . .
The sun rose, its golden light filtering through the willow branches.
Rabbits hopped around the clearing—some playing, some digging, others nosing through the grass for food. It was peaceful. Serene.
For a brief moment, I wished we could stay here a little longer. Just a little.
But we had a job to do.
"Well, thanks, rabbit lady," I said, stretching.
Connie scowled in disapproval.
"But we've gotta get moving. We've got friends to find."
She huffed. "Then let's go."
Meili pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes. The dark circles under them were even worse now. Silver woke with a yawn, then immediately started creeping toward one of the rabbits.
A sharp glare from Connie stopped her in her tracks. For now.
Bacon nudged my leg, snorting softly. Everyone was here. Everyone was safe.
Time to leave.
I didn't fully understand how incredible this place was until we started leaving it.
At the grove's edge, uneven stone steps had been carved into the wall—probably by countless rabbit paws over the years. Moss grew in patches between them.
We climbed higher.
By the time we reached the top—twice the willow tree's height—I turned and got my first real look at the grove from above.
It was breathtaking.
The clearing formed a perfect circle in the middle of the main forest, nestled inside a miniature valley. The willow's branches swayed in the wind, long vines draping from the rocky enclosure's rim. From the outside, it would have been easy to miss—hidden beneath layers of greenery, like a secret pocket of the world untouched by time.
I let out a low whistle. Was this kind of thing natural? I've never heard or seen of recesses in the earth, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
"Well, it's been nice." I turned back to Connie, extending a hand. "Maybe we'll meet again?"
She stared at my hand like I'd offered her a rotten fish.
"Meet… again?"
"…Yes? Because we're leaving." I gestured to the path behind us. "Or do you really not want to see us that bad?"
"That would be preferable," she admitted bluntly.
I sighed, dropping my hand. "Got it. Well, nice knowing—"
"But," she interrupted, "I'm following you."
I blinked. "What?"
"You are heading to the place called PrideFall Capital, are you not?"
"Well… yeah. Eventually."
"Then I'm coming with you."
Before I could even begin to process that, she whistled sharply. Then let out a strange grunt.
The trees moved.
A stampede of rabbits—at least fifty of them—plunged toward her. Some nuzzled against her legs, others hopped in tight patrol patterns around the clearing. A few regarded us with sharp eyes, like they still weren't sure what to make of us.
I let out a slow breath. "Okay. That was unexpected."
But I had to be honest with her.
"Look, I have to warn you," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "The road ahead? It's dangerous. You might be fine, but your rabbits? They could get caught in the crossfire."
She didn't flinch. I tried again. "You're safer here."
A beat of silence.
She snorted. "My bunnies will be fine. They're smart. They'll stay out of danger. I'll keep them out of danger. And they'll be useful, too."
I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped myself.
Something about the way she said it—calm, assured, like she'd already made up her mind—made me realize there was no point.
Instead, I just asked, "Why are you following us?"
She didn't answer right away. Then, after a pause—
"I don't need to explain myself. It's none of your business." She adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "Just know I have unfinished business with the city. And it concerns the grove. That's why I'll be tagging along with this pitiful group."
"…Oh."
I didn't appreciate the insult, but I let it slide.
We started moving.
We had only one option—backtrack to my house, what was left of it, and hope the wild hogs had moved on. Then, we'd have to find Lance and the others.
But a thought gnawed at me.
What if they'd already left?
They were the real fighters, after all. Maybe it made more sense for them to move ahead without the baggage of us slowing them down.
No.
I had to trust they were still on the ledge. Even they wouldn't have been able to take on an entire spider horde alone.
But what could I do to help them? A lumberjack and a wolf against an army of monsters? Bacon and Meili weren't fighters. They'd barely made it through the night.
My grip tightened on my axe.
To save PrideFall. To protect children like Meili. To prove myself.
Right?
. . .
"Is this it?" Connie's bored voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
I looked up.
We'd arrived.
"Ugh, my house," I groaned.
Once, it had been a sturdy wooden cottage, small but solid.
Now it looked like someone had drop-kicked a child's playhouse into the dirt.
The walls had collapsed, reduced to splinters. Only a single column still stood, leaning awkwardly in the wreckage.
The garden? Destroyed. Deep hoofprints trampled over everything, the soil churned and reeking of musk.
At least the hogs were gone. Looked like they'd given up after realizing we weren't coming back.
We stepped forward—
Until Connie raised a paw. A signal to stop.
"What's wrong?" I whispered, gripping my axe.
She didn't answer. Instead, she made a low, guttural noise in her throat.
Three rabbits darted out of the bushes and trees, skidding to a halt in front of her. They twitched their noses, ears flicking.
I glanced at Meili, then back at Connie. "...What?"
Connie exhaled through her nose. "We're not out of the woods yet. There's still one hog left."
I stiffened. "How do you know that?"
She flicked an ear, like the question wasn't even worth answering. "Obviously, my rabbits told me."
"…You can understand them?"
She gave me a look. "Don't I look like a rabbit?"
"Yes, but I look kind of like a monkey, and I don't understand them," I shot back. Then immediately realized I'd just insulted myself.
Connie blinked at me. Slowly.
"I don't have time for this idiotic conversation," she muttered. "I don't just understand them. I can see through their eyes. Smell through their noses. Hear through their ears."
She looked past me, toward the wreckage.
"That," she finished, voice quiet, "is my blessing as… what I am."
"What even are you?" I asked before I could stop myself.
It wasn't just curiosity.
The way she could see through her rabbits' eyes, hear through their ears—she could send them out like scouts, like an extension of herself. That wasn't just some cool trick. It was creepy. And it also raised more questions.
I'd at least heard of elves and trolls in history books. But nothing about… this. A half-rabbit, half-human creature who could command an entire warren like an army.
She didn't feel evil.
But her strangeness made me wary anyways.