Yuki couldn’t do it. The burrow entrance was there, just a few paces away, but she couldn’t do it. She stood stock still, frozen and terrified. A few seconds ago, she was over the moon, bouncing, jumping, and pushing Mom to open the entrance faster.

  Then it was open.

  First came the new scents: the earthy damp soil smell, the musky aroma of decaying leaves, the sweet fragrance of flowers in bloom, a strange and faint lemony smell, and the acrid odor of rabbit shit. Second, the light. Oh, the freaking light! Yuki hadn’t given a thought to it during those past weeks: Deep down into the bowels of the world, how had she seen things?

  Yuki’s ears were flat against her head. Her legs wouldn’t support her already small weight. She lay still, unmoving, hoping the world wouldn’t notice her. Why was this happening? Yuki wasn’t a scaredy cat, or rabbit in this case. In the before, she waged a clandestine campaign against inter-dimensional killers, got in her fair share of trouble, and even took matters in her own hands in that one extreme case.

  No, this wouldn’t do. Enough was enough. Yuki got up and took deep, frantic breaths. She stepped forward.

  From the burrow’s entrance, Mom’s hind paws hit the ground, the thump impatient. Yuki jolted at the sound; a few drops leaked.

  But she wouldn’t be denied. What was a vast, new, wild, and possibly dangerous above world? It was nothing! She dealt with worse in the before, like that flying cockroach one time or that assassination attempt another. No, Yuki could, and would do it!

  In her mind, she saw a handsome, rugged man sporting short, curly dark hair and a braid on one side, wearing the iconic black crew-neck T-shirt and dark pants in front of a green screen. Both his hands were open, almost touching. She could hear his raw, raspy voice: “What are you waiting for? Just do it! Yes, you can! Nothing is impossible. Just. Do. It!”

  Yuki did it. She took one step, then a hop, and finally a dash.

  The world opened in front of her eyes.

  The wide-open blue sky she had anticipated wasn’t there. The sky was dark and purple-ish. The stars were different, closer, and more vibrant. Her eyes trailed down: in the distance, the silhouettes of mountains were almost hidden behind the greenery. The clearing she bounded into was surrounded by the gnarled and contorted shapes of trees; like the worst nightmares of a demented mind. Bushes and shrubs that were more trap than flora.

  Yuki stopped in her tracks; she wasn’t the only one. All her siblings, now finally out of the burrow, huddled with her, their ears swiveling in all directions. Each slight buzz of a passing insect being enough to send the whole litter into a flash freeze.

  But as the milliseconds passed, old instincts took over. Yuki was no wild feral bunny scared of every hum and chirp. She was the master of the body, not the other way around. She wanted to quote that famous fear mantra from that renowned book series but stopped. It was too much cheese.

  With the fear now somewhat under control, she saw more of her kin in the clearing. The neighbors from the next chamber over in the burrow were also out. The group of eight looked condescendingly at Yuki’s fear. They didn’t even bother to turn their ears Yuki’s way, so much was their derision.

  More details filtered in: rabbits grazing in the nearby shrubbery, others hidden beneath the leaves, kits racing and exploring, and a range of older rabbits standing in the outer perimeters, eyes on the horizon, ears up and at attention.

  There was no need to worry or fear... Until the distant cry of a bird of prey sent the whole clearing into motion. Kits ran under anything they could find; some adults bolted back into the burrow, others into the shrubs. Moments later, a calming thumping from one of the sentries pacified the colony.

  Yeah, everything was fine. There was no danger!

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Nothing tasted better than freedom.

  Yuki enjoyed her best rabbit life with no bullies or vixens to distract or corrupt her. She nosed, dug. She found these yummy orange mushrooms beneath a pile of decomposing leaves. They were her new favorite food; she lost count of how many she’d eaten. The buggers dissolved in her mouth and sent tingling into her head.

  The world was lit with music and lights. She laughed, standing on her hind legs, paws at her waist. She was on top of the world— not even Bunbun’s fluffiness compared.

  “All of you mortals bow before me!” she cackled.

  The peasants basked in her glory, their noses twitching in adoration, and ears perking in reverence. She was the queen of her domain, and not even Mom could convince Yuki otherwise. Even the stars paid obeisance; their light cast an ethereal glow on the clearing. The trees straightened themselves out and then knelt. The bushes and shrubs danced. The insects and birds paraded for her glory. Lemon cake was served to all her subjects.

  It was perfect.

  Exp: +1.

  Yuki steered clear of the tasty orange mushrooms. They gave her strange ideas. In her heightened state of being, she realized that casting spells might not be out of the picture entirely. Sure, she would have trouble with the hand-waving and chanting, but she had an inkling that what really mattered there was the intent behind the spell being cast.

  She eyed Bunbun. The vixen waltzed on the clearing, batting her eyelashes at anyone naive enough to be tricked by her willy ways. Yuki would need a bit of blood, a bit of fur, and the spell might not even work, but… If she could. Imagine the possibilities. If she [Contracted] Bunbun, Yuki could claim the fluff all for herself.

  No! Yuki would not give in. No matter how amazing Bunbun’s fur was. Was it too much? Was contracting Bunbun magical nepotism?

  Yuki had much to ponder.

  She smelled the air. There it was again, that lemony scent. The scent was stronger today. Yuki followed her nose. The smell led away from the clearing guarded by the adults. She wasn’t dumb enough to follow strange scents into unknown and unguarded territory. Yuki shrugged and went back to her pondering. To [Contract] or not to [Contract]? It was such a difficult question.

  Exp: +1.

  Something wasn’t right. Yuki felt it in her ears and whiskers.

  Clicks huddled together. Adults were skittish and irritable. The wind was ominous, and the shadows darker.

  A warm nose pressed against Yuki’s cheek. Bunbun’s big, expressive eyes looked at Yuki. The bigger rabbit carried a piece of grass in her mouth, ears pointed straight at Yuki, whiskers twitching in concern.

  “So cute!” Yuki squealed.

  She couldn’t handle it. Bunbun was the bestest bunny. Ignoring the assumed offering, she tackled her favorite sister in a hug. Bunbun didn’t budge. She was enormous. Yuki came to a decision. She would make Bunbun her familiar. The vixen was just too cute to leave alone. Magical nepotism be damned. Yuki needed it.

  A branch snapped nearby, and the whole colony of rabbits froze. Yuki turned toward the sound, ears perked. A gnarled tree. A trap-shrub. A broken branch over the leaves on the ground. The lemony smell spiked, and for a moment, Yuki swore some leaves moved by themselves.

  Yuki shook her head. Her heart pumped so hard; it affected her mind. She still hadn’t got the hang of all these rabbits’ instincts. She was afraid all the time.

  Then the thumping started.

  It was the first time Yuki ever heard it so frantic and urgent, but she knew what it meant: danger. Yuki whipped her head around. She and Bunbun were at the far end of the clearing; the nearest entrance to the burrow was close to where she saw the leaves moving.

  Before Yuki could decide on what to do, one of the sentries bolted. The colony descended into chaos. Bunbun didn’t wait. She leaped toward the nearest burrow entrance. The one where Yuki thought she saw the leaves move. Yuki’s stomach dropped. Her heart spiked.

  “Bunbun, no!” Yuki screamed.

  The scream only made the other rabbit dash faster.

  Like those sci-fi camouflages in games, the air shimmered, and where once was empty air, now a ginormous leopard-like cat with emerald eyes stood. Six long dark green serpents sprouted from its shoulders. Each serpent was over ten times Captain Nutjob in length. The serpents lashed at the fleeing rabbit. Bunbun jumped away, but not fast or far enough.

  Like a circus choreography, the serpent latched into Bunbun and threw her up in an arc toward the main body. Bunbun screeched — a sound that cut through Yuki’s heart and mind— and contorted, but not for long. With a step forward from the monster and a heavy clack, half of Bunbun’s body disappeared inside its maw.

  Panic overtook Yuki then. She didn’t stay to see what else would happen. She bolted in the opposite direction, to a burrow entrance further away from the beast.