Dragonbreath: Revenge of the Horned Bunnies

by Ursula Vernon

  “And then I looked up, and there was Jack.”

  It—he—was undeniably a jackalope. He had two short little prongy horns and a white band of fur around his neck.

  “I dunno,” said Wendell. “But if it’s just a regular rabbit with that disease that makes it grow weird tumors, the tumors are awfully symmetrical. And he’s a lot bigger than any rabbit I’ve ever seen.”

  Danny nodded. He was thinking something similar—minus words like symmetrical—but it was good to have Nerd Confirmation.

  “He’s really nice,” said Spencer defensively. “And he’s in trouble.”

  “Something happened to his whole family,” said Spencer. “All the other jackalopes too. He’s really scared.”

  “Does he talk?” asked Wendell, baffled.

  The jackalope opened his mouth. Wendell and Danny leaned forward, fascinated.

  “He sort of gronks,” said Spencer. “But that’s not it. He—we kinda—look, I just know, okay?”

  “Some kind of jackalope telepathy?” asked Wendell skeptically.

  “I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” said Spencer, wrapping his arms around his knees and looking stubborn in the way that only an angry seven-year-old can. “But it’s true.”

  Danny had no problem believing that Spencer could talk to the jackalope. He himself had had excellent conversations with rats and sentient potato salad, despite the lack of a common language between them. You just had to listen the right way.

  No, Danny’s problem was that of all the people a jackalope could choose to talk to, why Spencer? Seriously? Danny would have been delighted to talk to a jackalope, and he had to admit that he was feeling just a tiny bit jealous of his cousin.

  He stifled a sigh. Oh well. Maybe the jackalope liked hearing about TV shows he hadn’t seen. Clearly there were more important issues at stake.

  “Does he know what’s happened to his family?”

  Spencer shook his head. “He’s not sure. He was hiding too, and when he finally came back home, they were gone. And lots of other jackalopes have been vanishing too.”

  “Could they have gotten sick? Or gotten rabies? Rabies can go through a population like crazy.” He gave Jack a wary look, as if expecting him to start foaming at the mouth at any moment.

  “He doesn’t think they’re dead,” said Spencer. Jack stamped a hind leg, as if for emphasis. “He hasn’t smelled blood or anything. There’s something else going on. I think something’s kidnapping them.”

  “Yeesh,” said Wendell.

  Jack nodded so hard his ears flapped.

  “I think he’s the only one left,” said Spencer somberly.

  “Should we tell the counselors?” asked Wendell. “I mean, taking jackalopes has to be illegal. I’m sure they’re an endangered species, being mythical and all.”

  Danny and Spencer exchanged glances. When you’re a dragon, you get a lot of firsthand experience in people not believing you exist.

  “They wouldn’t believe us,” said Spencer.

  Danny hated to agree with Spencer about anything, but the kid was right. “Yeah. They’d think he was one of those rabbits with the tumors, or they’d want to dissect him or something. You can’t trust most grown-ups with stuff like this.”

  “Look,” said Wendell, “regardless, we have to get back to camp. They’re gonna come looking for us.”

  “He’s right,” said Danny. “We’re supposed to be checking on you in the bathroom right now, and we’ve already taken waaaaay too long for that.”

  Spencer turned to Jack and held out his hands. “Are you gonna be okay? You’ll stay hidden, right? I brought you food, and we’ll come back as soon as we can.”

  Jack peered warily out at the desert, then turned back to Spencer and put his paws on the dragon’s knee. He rubbed his head briefly against Spencer’s cheek, then retreated to the back of the cave and picked up a roll.

  “Don’t worry,” said Danny, not sure if he was talking to Spencer or Jack. “We’ll figure out what to do. We always come up with something.”

  Wendell rolled his eyes. He knew better than anybody else that “something” usually involved dangling over volcano pits or almost being eaten by giant squid.

  “Don’t give me that look, Wendell. We totally do.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’ll work out.”

  “Sure.”

  “Nobody ever dies, anyway.”

  Wendell was forced to concede the point.

  When they walked out of the forest, the counselor for Spencer’s cabin spotted them immediately. “Danny! Spencer! I checked the bathroom, but you weren’t there, and I was getting ready to send out search parties!”

  “Uh,” said Danny. “He’s fine now. He just—uh—”

  “He needed some fresh air,” said Wendell hurriedly. “So we went for a little walk. He feels better now, right, Spencer?”

  “Right,” said Spencer. “Loads better. I thought I was gonna puke up all that oatmeal I ate before. My stomach was all gurgly and I was all like this—”

  “Well, okay …” said the counselor. “Do you need to go to the nurse? You probably should—”

  “I’m fine now,” said Spencer. “If I start to feel sick again, I’ll go.”

  “As long as you’re sure.” The counselor gave them one last suspicious look, then turned back to the game of dodge ball he was orchestrating.

  “Well,” said Wendell. “That was close. Now what?”

  Danny was of the opinion that the only thing better than one nerd brain working on a problem was two nerd brains on the problem.

  “Let’s tell Christiana. Maybe she’ll have an idea.”

  The crested lizard was more than willing to join them, since her cabin mates and counselor Heidi were threatening her with something called a “makeover.” Danny hurriedly outlined the situation.

  “But jackalopes aren’t—”

  “Don’t say they’re not real,” said Danny. “It doesn’t matter, okay? We’ll show you a jackalope later. Just pretend for the moment that we’re not nuts and use that huge brain to figure out what we ought to do.”

  Christiana gave him a dubious look and opened her mouth to say something—he just knew it was going to be something sarcastic—but then she took a deep breath and said, “Okay. For the sake of argument, then,” and put her head together with Wendell’s.

  Danny attempted to help, but after both of his best ideas were shot down in rapid succession, on the grounds that they did not have access to either a hang glider or fifty live chickens, he and Spencer eventually wound up playing wall-bounce with a tennis ball.

  After about ten minutes the nerds presented their findings.

  To Danny’s surprise, Christiana immediately dismissed the idea of going to the counselors. “Assuming they believed us, which they won’t, they’d have to get the Forest Service involved. They’re the people who deal with poachers. And they’re totally overworked, so it’d be weeks before anybody came out, and your hypothetical jackalope buddy would be hypothetically dead by the time they got here.”

  Spencer gulped.

  “It’ll be okay,” said Danny, patting him on the shoulder. “We’ll take care of it.” He felt a little weird saying that to Spencer—Spencer!—but the look of relief that the younger dragon gave him reminded him uncomfortably of his mother saying “He’s crazy about you.”

  “We need to find out who’s responsible before we can do anything,” said Christiana. “And I want to get a good look at the beast too. I’ve got some questions.”

  “His name’s Jack,” said Spencer sullenly. “And he’s not hypuh—hyp—hypuhntheticall.”

  Christiana waved this off as unimportant. Wendell jumped in.

  “There’s a scavenger hunt this evening. We’re all supposed to be out looking for—oh, giant pinecones and heart-shaped rocks and things. So if we can all slip away from our groups and meet out in the woods, we can go back to the canyon. Nobody’ll miss us for at least an hour, and if t
hey do find us, we’ll just say we’re looking for something on the scavenger list.”

  Danny was about to rail against an unjust universe that had not adapted sharks to desert life, but Spencer broke in. “Okay. I’ll meet you guys here. But you promise you won’t tell anybody about Jack?”

  “Geez, Spencer, of course not,” said Danny.

  “Definitely not,” said Wendell.

  “I’ll need to see him before I believe he’s a jackalope,” said Christiana. “But I’m a skeptic, not a rat.”

  And with that, Spencer had to be satisfied.

  SCAVENGING FOR JACKALOPES

  It was a really cool scavenger hunt, and Danny was sorry to miss it. Everybody had flashlights for when it got really dark, and the cabin that found the most items on the list got candy bars. In a perfect world, the scavenger hunt would have included things like “severed heads” and “cowboy treasure,” but Danny was always willing to improvise.

  Still, some things were more important.

  “We’ll hunt for the giant pinecone,” he told their cabin leader, and he and Wendell peeled off from the rest of the group.

  “Don’t go too far!” the counselor called after them as they vanished into the trees.

  “We won’t!” Wendell called back. Being Wendell, he managed to sound trustworthy and responsible.*

  “Where’s Spencer?” asked Wendell when they got near the top of the canyon.

  “I don’t know, he’s supposed to be around here somewhere—”

  “I’m over here!” Spencer peeked out from behind a bush. “Did anybody follow you?”

  “Listen, kid,” said Danny, “I have been sneaking around grown-ups since you were wearing diapers. Did anybody follow you?”

  “No.” Spencer dusted pine needles off his tail. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

  “Who, Christiana?” Danny snorted. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Whoa, don’t look at me.” Wendell put up his hands. “Anyway, she says marriage is a bourgeois institution designed to oppress women.”

  “A bor … borjz … awuh?”

  “I’m not sure either,” admitted Wendell, “but she gets really mad talking about it, so I figured I’d stop asking.”

  This struck Danny as sensible. Christiana might not believe in stuff like ghosts or UFOs, but she believed very strongly and loudly in things like “green energy” and “social justice.” (He had been a bit disappointed to learn that social justice did not involve dressing up like a superhero and fighting crime.)

  They sat and waited.

  Christiana didn’t show up.

  “Do you think she went to a counselor and ratted us out?” asked Spencer.

  “She wouldn’t do that,” said Danny. “She’s weird, but she’s on our side.”

  They waited some more. It was getting too dark to see without flashlights, but Danny was reluctant to turn his on, for fear that other campers would see the lights.

  “Maybe we should go without her,” said Spencer.

  “I’m sure she’ll turn up,” said Wendell, shoving his glasses farther up his snout.

  And she did indeed turn up—out of breath, and looking very annoyed. “Come on,” she panted, “let’s get out of here.”

  “What happened to you?” asked Wendell.

  “I ran into him on the way here, and he wanted to know where I was going. He was super-nosy.” She scowled. “I dunno what got into him, but he was all suspicious. ‘Your cabin all went over there, camper! Better go catch up with them!’ I had to tell him that Heidi chipped a nail and sent me back to the cabin to get more polish.”

  “Huh,” said Danny. “You know, he acted a little weird the other night too. I got lost getting back to the cabin and wound up near the off-limits buildings, and he showed up.”

  “After the Bottle Rocket Incident last year, I’d be suspicious too,” said Wendell drily. “He probably thought you were trying to set the whole place on fire. Again.”

  “Bottle Rocket Incident?” asked Spencer.

  “Uh—”

  “Later, okay?” said Christiana. “I don’t want to be here if Lenny shows up again.”

  “Right, right.” Danny scrambled to his feet and they hurried down the slope toward the canyon.

  Jack was nowhere to be seen at first, but then Spencer whistled. A moment later, Jack emerged from behind a cactus and immediately hid behind Spencer.

  Christiana said, “Huh!” which from her was an admission of profound astonishment.

  “Christiana, meet Jack. Jack, Christiana,” said Danny.

  Jack poked his nose warily around Spencer.

  Christiana dropped to her knees in the middle of the sand and held out a hand. Jack looked at Spencer, then slowly approached her, like a dog that wants to be friendly but isn’t sure that it isn’t going to get kicked.

  “There’s a good jackalope,” said Christiana. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Jack sniffed her fingers and allowed himself to be petted behind the ears.

  Danny tried not to seethe with jealousy. He hadn’t gotten to pet the jackalope yet.

  “May I?” asked Christiana, tapping Jack’s antlers. Jack made a gronky noise.

  “He says yes,” said Spencer.

  Christiana ran a hand over the jackalope’s antlers, tapped one with a claw-tip, said, “Hmm.”

  “I don’t think they’re tumors,” said Wendell.

  “Good jackalope.” She stood up again. Jack scampered back to lurk behind Spencer’s legs.

  She looked at Wendell. Wendell nodded.

  “What?” said Danny. “That’s it? It took hours and a manif—manifest—the ghost had to actually appear before you believed in it, and you look at the jackalope for five minutes and call it a new species?”

  “There’s plenty of precedent for new species,” said Christiana, unruffled. “They found a new yak in Asia a few years ago, and that’s way bigger than Jack here. And the latest Scientific Reptilian had an article about possible survivals of giant false vampire bats in Mexico—”

  (Wendell had stopped having nightmares, but was not yet prepared to talk rationally about the giant false vampire bats.)

  “I suppose you believe in Bigfoot, then,” said Danny. He couldn’t believe they’d brought the Junior Skeptic around without a fight.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Christiana. “A dinosaur with gigantic feet surviving in a heavily traveled area like the Pacific Northwest? Somebody would have hit one with a car by now. But this is pretty remote, and people don’t hike in the desert nearly as much as they hike in the woods. A creature the size of Jack, who looks more or less like a rabbit at a casual glance?” She shrugged. “I’m willing to keep an open mind.”

  “That’s a first,” Danny started to mutter, but Wendell kicked him in the shins.

  “Oh, good,” said Spencer. He hugged Jack. “This’ll be awesome! It’ll be just like the third season of Quadro Force, when the Black Samurai comes back but they’ve got a new pilot and they have to protect the planet of Mamarkand from—”

  “Quiet!” hissed Wendell.

  Spencer blinked. Danny was a little surprised too—sure, he usually wanted to tell Spencer to be quiet, but Wendell wasn’t usually the type to snap—and then he heard it too.

  Voices.

  Coming this way.

  “Oh no,” whispered Danny, “somebody found us!”

  *Danny wished he could sound like that, but whenever he tried, his mother immediately said, “What are you up to?!” and put him under twenty-four-hour surveillance.

  GRONK!

  “I dunno, boss,” said one voice, shockingly close, “I haven’t seen any of those horned bunnies in a while.”

  “Shut up,” said another voice. “I’ve seen at least one more out here.”

  Spencer looked around wildly, perhaps preparing to make a break for it, but Danny grabbed his arm.

  The older kids exchanged glances. Three things were immediately obvious.

  One,
some freak echo had brought the voices to them from up the canyon.

  Two, the owners of the voices were between them and the woods.

  Three, the second voice belonged to head counselor Lenny.

  “It’s him!” hissed Wendell. “He’s the one doing it! I knew it! I knew nobody that cheerful could be up to any good!”

  “Never mind that!” Christiana shot back. “Hide!”

  It had never before occurred to Danny just how few places there were to hide in the desert. Saguaro cactus were really impressive-looking, but they weren’t wide enough to hide behind, and all the scrubby little bushes were dried out and thin and you could see right through them.

  “The cave,” he said, grabbing Spencer by the back of the shirt and shoving him into it.

  “Ow!”

  “Get in there!” Danny wiggled in after. “You too, Jack!”

  Cave was probably being too kind. It was a shelf of rock that extended barely to Danny’s waist. It was a little taller in the back, but not by much.

  “We can’t possibly all fit—” Wendell began.

  “I don’t think—” Christiana started to say.

  Crunch-crunch-crunch came the sound of footsteps on sand.

  “Really, boss, is it worth wandering around here all night looking for one more bunny?”

  Christiana and Wendell dove into the hole.

  Wendell would have sworn that there was no way to fit four kids and a jackalope into the cave, and he was very nearly right. Somebody’s elbow was in his ribs and somebody had a knee practically in his throat and he could hear Spencer whispering “There’s a foot in my face! Stop it, stop it!” and Danny was trying to get his tail out from under Christiana and Jack’s antlers were hitting Wendell in the glasses with a tiny tick-tick-tick noise.

  “Everybody, quiet!” Danny whispered as loudly as he dared.

  For a wonder, everybody was.

  Even their breathing sounded horribly loud in Danny’s ears. Surely Lenny would hear them, or see somebody’s tail sticking out or somebody would sneeze …