Bunnygirls

by Simon Archer

  “I couldn’t find the place for this, boss.” Foxhound held up a red book both Hopper and I somehow missed. “Does it go in the rusty supply, the rotten wood supply, the damp supply, or the clean stuff supply?”

  “Why don’t you hand it over here, Foxhound?” I held out my hand to grab it.

  It took the red beast a second before he registered his name, then he passed the book over to me. I started to thumb through the pages to figure out what kind of designs it could hold, only to be surprised that it was formatted like a journal. I knew that for a fact because it was also written in English, and the first journal entry dated back to 1784.

  10

  William Knight

  Strange Land of Haremen in South America Somewhere Far Away From Anywhere, 24 25 of JanuaFebruary 1784th Year of Our Lorde.

  Had I found myself privy to the fortunes of the future my fate would thrust upon me, perchance, it would have behooved me to perhaps have endeavored to learn another language in my youth, that I may have understood the inherent qualities shared between all speech. To attempt such learning in the older years has proven to tax the mind as much as any puzzle or riddle would.

  This journal was almost thrown into the deepest wood, along with my hopes of survival within them. I had long but forgotten to write within these pages, or rather left the pages as blank as my motivations to continue onward. To leave this world forgotten would have been a blessing, if only to end it. No one needs a captain like William Knight. Not a captain who has failed so miserably as I.

  Only by the change of the seasons do I know that today marks one year since I had come upon this place. I supposed a celebration was in order for my survival. Having missed Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and every holiday of my old land, I’d come to appreciate the consistency and stability such monotonous events held up for the world. I’ve even found myself dreaming of muskets firing over my head as I return to the battlefield, ready and fighting to free America from Her ties to the Crown.

  Such trivialities are beyond my worries, now. The Wolf Men prowl for me even now, their beastly howls haunting my sleep. Their brutish power was more than I could ever hope to conquer, and their primal ferocity humbled even the mightiest bear I had hunted. I had lost the will to fight them as the days raged onward. The struggle wore down upon me, keeping them off my trail as I fought to survive each passing hour, or at least to the next moment. My only driving force to continue was the thought that though my own torture was hellish, the torture and anguish heaved upon my fellow soldiers trapped here with me couldn’t be put into words. I had to survive for their sake so that at least a breath of the brave men I fought beside lived on.

  But today is indeed a day for celebration. After all this time, having believed myself trapped alone in a mystical circle of hell designed for a sinful hunter like me to know the hearts of my prey, I have connected to others who live here as well. There is a whole tribe within these lands, in fact!

  My discovery of them is shameful, to say the least. Having gained the confidence to lay a trap without attracting a Wolf Man to me, I thought myself having caught a new species of Hare, almost as tall as a man! Imagine my surprise when the beast spoke to me in a man’s tongue, though I knew nothing of the language. I freed him, and in his nonverbal gratitude, he guided me toward the rest of his people.

  What strange people they were, indeed! If I were asked if there were a link between the likes of Hares and rodents and the likes of man, I might have called the questioner mad for asking. Now, I have seen that a hare and a man share a common people with these Haremen. The males are often more amongst the sight of rabbits of unusual size than men of rabbitish quality, but the women can appear anywhere from a form caught between the hare and the man to a form of a woman in all qualities but with the addition of bunny ears upon their heads. If I were to speak my mind, I would call every form most beautiful and ravishing, in spite of their rodent-like qualities, though I’m finding the quantity of time spent among them has made such rabbitness unnoticeable, as if it is a part of what made their figures so compelling.

  Their ways were quite outside my known sphere, though some familiarities were present. Though the villages were small inland, the houses rather snug, and the communities deeply connected, I could find a collection of families having housed hare-men outside of their lineage, serving within the family. These servants would do anything within the household, from the cleaning and maintenance of a property to serving as a medic or butler. The households don’t actually choose spouses between them, but instead, they pick out a set of mates from the servants of either their own household or another. They negotiate between households for these servants to move between them, and a household can have several servants in this role at once, even to only one head of the household.

  And the similarities with rabbits spreads out to copulative efforts as well. Goodness.

  But enough of that. The hope lied not in these people and their anthropology alone. While the people gave me something greater than myself to fight for, the shamans were the ones to give me the strength to fight. Wise and knowledgeable servants, along with servants of great magical power and unique ability, were chosen to advise households and provide them with whatever magical assistance they were asked to.

  Yes, the magic of fairy tales from my land was a real presence to study here. The shamanistic caste was made up entirely of women, as the male hare-man possessed no magic within him to do the job. They possessed these little talismans and totems that could imbue objects with powers straight out of King Arthur’s Court. One allows a musket to shoot out a thunderbolt, and another turns the shot into an entanglement of vines to trap even some of the largest beasts in this land.

  Some of these shamans were such monstrously avid learners, behaving more like intellectuals and scholars rather than spiritual mediums. Even as I was attempting to grasp their language, they had begun to speak my own in turn. They even looked upon my weapon and somehow knew how to replicate its mechanics. Their insights must have also been magical in nature, as I could not find a smelter or blacksmith among them. My rusting pipe was replaced before I could refuse the offer, and it worked even better than before. I learned so much from them, and they were so kind to me. I could only repay them with an end to the threat of the Wolf Men once and for all. My men deserve better than to be survived by such animals. These people deserve better than to live under the fear of a scourge they had no hand in bringing about.

  All hare-men were timid by nature, as I had come to see among them, so no soldiers or military was present among their servants, and they chose not to fight in most cases. The heads of many households would often decide upon pacifistic and nonviolent ways to resolve conflicts, and the households were to do the same. I had thought to fight this fight alone, never being one for rousing speeches to move hearts, and I hadn’t the patience to teach a couple of dozen fresh faces about the horrors of war. They were weak and would only get in my way.

  Some of the shamans, however, possessed great gifts among them. While there were those who could learn and create the special enchantments and make objects do almost anything, others were capable of turning the magic within them into powerful storms and infernos held in the air with their will, as if they were Merlin themselves. Others still could move between spaces using doors in the air, traveling anywhere they could see or feel in moments where it would take the best of America’s ships to do the same in months. Yet none of these gifts were ever used to fight, and none of the households offered to join us.

  It confused me at first, but I learned that the shamans that I was working with were not being tasked with helping me from other households. Instead, they had been given to me to be my own servants. For reasons I could only guess, maybe for helping that hare-man down, I was treated as a head and given my own household to use as I saw fit. They had become mine to command.

  That explains the very blunt offers the shamans were proposing to me. I suppose my face could be mistaken fo
r the breast pocket of a Redcoat when they asked.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever return to America. I don’t know if I’ll see that banner fly free over those blue skies. But I know I won’t die here. I will fight on. I have to, no matter the cost. I will not lose. I will save them.

  11

  “Well, that explains why there are so many guns for one guy.” I finished reading the diary from the Hunter’s cache aloud. “Looks like our legendary Hunter was one Captain William Knight of the Revolutionary Army. And he got a little magic help from the local ladies. I’m already ahead of the game. It’s been a little more than a day for us, I’ve got better guns, and I’m also picking up Wolves along my way. Once we shut down the portal-jammer and find a bunny who can read, we could find a way to teach them to shaman up more charms for us.”

  “So, do you think, my lord…?” Hopper said, almost voicelessly. “When the journal talked about how some shamans could… move through places in moments in what would take others months. Do you think that could be me?”

  “Do I think you could?” I said to her coyly. “There’s no ‘could’ about it. Do you think there’s a chance you’re not a shaman? You’re my shaman. You’ve been a shaman since the beginning, before I even met you. Don’t you give me that ‘could’ nonsense. There’s no doubt about it.”

  “So…” she barely breathed out. “Do you think that I could have been like one of--”

  “Hey!” I said to her. “What did I just say about the ‘could?’ I already know what you’re asking about, and it’s ‘are.’ You are. Or ‘am,’ in your case. ‘I am.’”

  “Do you,” Hopper thought through the sentence again, “think I ‘am’ have been like those shamans who helped the Hunter against the Wolves?”

  Sometimes you gotta think through your phrasing. Assumptions are not the norm around here, and literal interpretation and obedience are. I was guessing Hopper was only trying to be as faithful to my words as possible. Sometimes you gotta bridge that culture gap yourself, and sometimes you gotta overlook a sentence butchered upon your instruction.

  “Yes, you ‘am,’ indeed.” I picked her up to kiss those soft lips. “You’ve already beaten three Wolves by yourself with your legs alone. I’ve only got one up on you, and that’s with advanced weaponry and years of informal combat experience.”

  “Sure kicked my ass,” Lassie spoke up, still with his two black eyes.

  “Thank you, Lassie.” Hopper muffled through the sleeves of her flannel shirt.

  “Good job, Lassie.” I gave his beefy arm a tap. “Way to overcome some interspecies prejudice. That was strangely nice of you.”

  “It’s true,” Lassie responded. “You’re my boss, boss, but the bunny’s the one who beat me. I can always respect that.”

  “It’s all just a strength game with you guys, ain’t it?” I remarked. “Does that mean you don’t respect me?”

  “You earned the win, boss,” Lassie replied. “You defeated the guy who defeated me, so for me, it’s like you already fought me. She’s just the one who kicked my ass now.”

  “Well, I appreciate you complimenting Hopper all the same,” I said to him. “I know there’s history between the races, mostly just you Wolves being shitbags, but I can recognize that something like that might be hard. I appreciate you not keeping that old cruelty while working for me.”

  “She beat a Wolf one-on-one.” Foxhound chipped in. “That’s what being a Wolf is all about. She’s a Wolf, now.”

  “Ain’t that something?” I watched the strange untangling of societal norms unfold. “Just so you know, I want you treating all my people nice like that. I don’t care if they’ve never lifted a finger to fight in their life. You keep off of them.”

  I looked to the rest of my Wolf Warriors.

  “That goes for the rest of you, too.” I addressed them. “Lassie, Toby, Old Yeller, Scooby, all of you play nice with any Rabbits who serve me. Or any Rabbits at all.”

  “No being mean to Rabbits at all? But what if they’re weak?” Toby asked as if it were relevant. “What if someone else’s Rabbit disrespects you? What if one of your own Rabbits doesn’t obey? Shouldn’t we help you keep them in line, so they recognize your strength? They aren’t like Wolves, boss. They don’t fight, and they don’t respect the fight. They gotta respect the win you earned. It’s your right to make them know that, and we can help.”

  “I ain’t strong when I’m putting people down,” I told them. “I’m only strong when I’m helping people back up. If you’re working for me, you gotta help people up, too. If you were hurting people while you were working for me, what does that say about me? Do I gotta make others suffer so I can feel strong? You abusing other people don’t say nothing about how I fight, about how I won those battles. It just says I don’t have the self-respect to stay kind to others. It says I don’t think I’m strong, so I gotta lie about how strong I really am by putting others below me. The more I put them down, the more I’m thinking myself weak. Are you gonna lie about my strength for me? Or do you just not think I’m strong enough for the win I earned? I’ll fight anyone who wants to challenge me here and now.”

  None of the Wolves could look me in the eye. I took that as a sign I was getting through. Gotta make sure all my Wolves understand that when I get more. I ain’t coming into this system just to propagate more cruelty that I can’t see behind my back.

  “I don’t fight to prove how strong I am, boys.” I wrapped up my impromptu speech. “I already know how strong I am. I fight because there’s something good to fight for. I fight so I can put my strength to that good use. That’s why I have strength in the first place. And that is what makes me strong. It makes me strong enough to beat any of you, and anyone else I’m gonna have to fight.”

  I took a long look at Toby, who was feeling my words the hardest. Looking out at the other Wolves, it was really clear they weren’t gonna pull anything while working for me, at the very least. Maybe I wasn’t gonna make all of them Rabbit-enthusiasts anytime soon, but I wouldn’t have to worry about any mutinies or secret abuses with them.

  “I wasn’t trying to make you look weak, boss.” Toby apologized. “I’m sorry about the disrespect. I know you’re strong, I swear.”

  “Buddy, I ain’t mad.” I put a hand on the pale fur of his giant shoulder. “You said some dumb things because you’ve been living under a shit boss forever, and you don’t know any better yet. Long as you don’t do those awful things they were having you do while you work for me, we’re good. Putting that all behind you is gonna take a new kind of strength. But you’re one of my boys, now. You’ll make it happen.”

  With a solid pat to the shoulder, I let Toby go, turning my attention to the piles.

  “Old Yeller, Foxhound.” I started making orders, “Start shoving all of these piles back in the bunker. Make sure to leave the clean supply alone. Lassie, Scooby, put the clean stuff in bags so you can carry it all when we leave. Neatly and gently, please. Toby,” I handed the big grey Wolf the magic powder horn, “open this up and turn it over at the bunker entrance. Hold it like that until I say to stop.”

  Faithful as a bunch of labradors, they were on their tasks as soon as I finished giving the orders. The blond and red Wolves were scooping their arms like construction shovels, dumping it into the bunker in a waterfall of decrepit clutter. It was mirrored by a waterfall of black powder on the other side as Toby held the upside-down, looking right at me like a hunting dog waiting for my whistle. The brown and spotted boys were doing their delicate best to put the alcohol and the pouches on the tarps from the bunker slowly, their pointed black nails and rigid movements making them look a bit like those claw-machines at the fair.

  “How do you do that, my lord?” Hopper whispered to me as we watched the Wolves work.

  “Do what?” I asked her. I felt like I had missed a part of the conversation even as it just started.

  “Those words you say,” she clarified. “How do you know when to pick the best ones? The
ones that get right to where they’re feeling and make it warm and safe.”

  “Oh, uh,” I flustered through a response. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t trying to give a speech or nothing. Just some feelings getting out of me, I suppose. I’m not picking words out of a list so much. Didn’t mean to talk all y’all’s ears off.”

  “May I make a request, my lord?” she clung onto my arm as she asked.

  “Anything you want, my dear.”

  “Would you please not apologize for doing things I like?” She bluntly entreated. “I know that it’s not my place, but you make it sound like you did a bad thing when you ask me to forgive you. I’m not the one who should be forgiving you, anyway, my lord. You shouldn’t have to apologize for anything.”

  “What kind of man would I be if I decided that for myself?” I said to her. “A humble man keeps his integrity and his sense of self. If I didn’t ever think I did something wrong, I wouldn’t recognize the monster I’d become in the mirror. So I will keep apologizing.”

  “Oh.” She loosened her grip on my arm. “I’m sorry for the insolence, my lord.” She went to walk away before she was caught in my arm like a rabbit in a snare of love.

  “Hey.” I looked at her ocean eyes. “What did I say about you pleasing me?”

  “But I didn’t--”

  “You didn’t have to.” I stopped her. “I could see it on your face. I’m always pleased with you, even when I’m disagreeing with you. That don’t change with the tide, darling.”

  “Okay.” She rested her cheek on my palm as I brought it to her face. Her heart was still a little heavy, telling by her subtle pout. Maybe I needed to soften my stubborn head a bit.

  “And I suppose,” I rolled my eyes playfully and dramatically, “I shouldn’t be ashamed of doing things that make you happy. I promise to try to show you that better.”