by V. Moody
We all stepped back as the bubble grew bigger and bigger. It reached beachball proportions and then it popped, and a rabbit jumped out.
It looked like the rabbits we hunted, except for one thing: the long horn growing out of the centre of its head.
“Fooking hell,” said Flossie. “It’s a bunny unicorn!”
30. Gotta Catch ‘Em All
The bunnicorn sat there, twitching slightly. The grass around the pile of shit had wilted and withered, slimy with shit that hadn’t dried out. I thought it might feel exposed out in the open with five strangers standing around. But then, the rabbits back in the meadow never gave a damn about us and, as it turned out, neither did this one.
It shook its head, pawed at the ground and then lowered its head, aiming the horn at me. It charged.
With all the available targets, why it should decide I deserved to have my ankles gored, I don’t know. I guess I’m just lucky.
I took a few stumbling steps backwards as it came at me, then turned and ran.
“Hey, do something!” I called out to the others. They decided to offer me the absolute worst form of help: encouragement.
“Run!”
“Dodge left.”
“Don’t let it touch you, it’s covered in shit.”
The rabbits back in the meadow had been slow and listless. This thing was hyper. I headed for the taller grass, hoping I might lose it if it couldn’t see, but I could hear the bastard’s little feet right behind me. I swerved, I double-backed, I tried to lead it towards the others so it might switch targets, but it honed in on me and only me.
Without realising it, I ran into the shitty area where the ground was wet and slippery. My feet went out from under me and I ended up flat on my back. I tilted my head hoping I’d managed to get away, only to see the vicious furball charging right at me. I rolled to the left, coating myself in ogre faeces, and the bunnicorn slid past. Fortunately, it was no better at keeping its footing on the slick surface than me.
I jumped to my feet and ran for the edge of the clearing. For the first time in days I’d had a proper wash, and only a few hours later I was more filthy than any human in history. Typical. I got to the treeline and spun around. The grass shook as the bunnicorn closed in for the kill, and then it emerged at ramming speed, leaping into the air at waist height. There was no doubt, it was aiming for my balls.
I waited for the last possible moment and then dived out of the way. The bunnicorn smacked horn-first into the tree I had been standing in front of, burying the tip deep into the wood. The bunnicorn hung there, levitating three feet off the ground, pawing wildly at the air but unable to get free.
Three quick steps, a wide swing, and I brought my stick across to hit the bunnicorn as hard as I could. It went flying. I’d like to say it went sailing over the horizon, but it bounced off the next tree and dropped into the undergrowth somewhere outside of the clearing. Still out of bounds, so technically: home run!
Its horn was still stuck in the tree, the end of it red and sticky. I yanked it out. It was lighter than I’d expected, and warm to the touch. From my experience of RPGs, a unicorn horn had magical properties and was often a quest item, so there was a good chance this was worth something.
“Hey, guys, look at this.”
The others ignored me. They were all facing the other way, unconcerned about my near-brush with castration. I walked over to see what had their attention.
Bubbles were forming all over the dried-out bed of shit. Twinkling in the sunlight and smelling bad enough to curl the hairs in your nostril, the bubbles burst. Out of each one came another bunnicorn.
They landed on the grass with a flump, looked around, saw one of their own kind staring back, and charged. They would get close to stabbing each other in the face, but a flick of the head and the two horns would clash, knocking both jousters aside.
All over the meadow, the bunnicorns were having little duels.
“Why were they inside the shit?” asked Claire.
“Maybe they live in there,” said Maurice.
I had my own theory. The sight of those rabbits willingly jumping down that ogre’s throat back in the meadow reminded me about something I learned in biology class. Fruit is delicious because the plant wants them to be eaten. Once it passes through an animal’s system, the seed gets shat out in its very own package of ready-to-grow fertiliser. The circle of life, brilliant and disgusting.
Perhaps the rabbits were the same. Being eaten and then encased in shit was part of their life cycle. It also seemed to evolve them, like some horrific version of pokemon. Pikadudu turns into Jigglyturd. I could see why the people in Probet had reacted the way they did whenever we asked them about eating the rabbits.
“I think their horns might be worth collecting.” I put the horn I was holding in the sack on Dudley’s back. “We should hunt them.”
“They look a bit dangerous,” said Claire.
“Yeah, we have to be careful. But as long as they’re distracted by all this fighting amongst themselves, we should be able to pick a few off.”
I walked up behind a bunnicorn focused on of its fellows. As it prepared to charge, I brought my stick down hard, burying a nail into the top of its head, killing it instantly. All the other bunnicorns stopped what they were doing to look at me. It was not a friendly look. They began herding together.
I took a few steps backwards.
The herd charged.
“Stampede!” I turned and ran.
31. A New Challenger Has Appeared
Even though I was the primary target, the others followed me back into the woods. They didn’t really have a choice if they didn’t want to be trampled to death by little furry feet. It would have probably been a good idea to check which direction I was running in. It quickly became apparent it wasn’t the way we came. Not that I had time to worry about little things like that.
We thrashed our way through a large expanse of shrubbery, getting whipped in the face by twigs and branches. We broke through into an area full of very thin trees with even thinner branches covered in bright green leaves. No time to stop and admire the beauty of nature, we had a ton of shit-covered rabbits with horns after us.
I had thought running through the trees would slow them down, but these bunnies did not respect the laws of physics. They leapt over logs and bounced off trees. They came up alongside us, springing through the air like gazelle. We were flanked right and left, a classic pincer movement.
There was light ahead. The trees started to thin out and I saw a lake ahead. I didn’t stop, I ran into the water. Of course, there were probably as many nasty things in the water as their were on land—piranha with antlers, knowing my luck—but beggars can’t be choosers. I was up to my waist before I turned around to see where the others were. They had followed me into the water and were wading towards me. All along the bank, the bunnicorns were massing, dozens of the fuckers, waving their horns at us like tiny Zulu warriors. Fortunately, they didn’t seem keen on getting wet.
I also noted that Dudley and Maurice had taken off their sacks and were carrying them over their heads to keep the contents dry. I felt a slight twinge of guilt. I always treated them like they were clueless, but they’d done the smart thing even with the threat of being impaled from behind. Would I have had the presence of mind to make sure the blankets and torches didn’t get soaked? Probably not. So who was I to look down on them?
Feelings of remorse could wait. First we had to get away.
The lake had little islands on it. Some even had trees growing on them. I waded towards one and clambered onto it. There was enough space for all of us, and we could at least get our bearings and sort out what to do next.
The other pulled themselves out of the water and flopped down next to me. We were all out of breath and soaking wet, although at least my little swim managed to get most of the shit off me. When I had got my breath back and sat up, the bunnicorns had gone. I looked around and realised it wasn’t really a lake but
a large pond. I could see the shore on other side and more trees beyond it. But that’s not what caught my attention.
Kneeling by the water, apparently washing some clothes, was a figure about the size of child, a ten-year-old maybe. But not a child. Not even a human. In fact what it most resembled was a large rat. Covered in white fur. With a tail.
I nudged Maurice next to me and pointed. He slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked in the direction I was indicating. His mouth fell open.
“Is that a rat-woman?”
The rat-person did look like a female. Not because she was doing the laundry (I’m not that sexist), not even because she was wearing a long yellow skirt, like a sarong (men wear them, too), but because of the six breasts on her chest.
The others all sat up and gawked. We were far enough away, and the foliage on the island was thick enough that she couldn’t see us unless she had a really good look. Still, I think we all felt like it would be best to keep as quiet as possible.
“Actually,” said Dudley in hushed tones, “I’d say more likely a mouse-woman.”
“How can you tell?” Maurice whispered back.
“Mice have longer snouts, and their ears are bigger in proportion to their head. In addition to which, rats have naked, scaly tails. That one has a hairy tail.”
“This is your area of expertise?” I asked him.
Dudley shrugged. “One picks these things up.”
I returned my focus on the mouse-woman. She picked up a basket and walked away into the trees. I slipped into the water.
“Where are you going?” said Claire.
“That’s a fantasy creature I feel I can deal with. Half my size and no weapons growing out of its head. I’m going to follow her. “
“What if there are others? With weapons.”
“Then I hope they can’t swim.”
“Actually,” said Dudley, “mice are excellent swimmers.”
I ignored Dr Moreau and swam to the other side of the pond. After a few seconds I heard the others drop into the water behind me.
I climbed out of the water and listened carefully for signs of life. The sun was high in the sky and the air was hot and humid. Sounds of wildlife filled the air. Once everyone was out of the water, we headed off in the direction we’d seen the mouse-woman go, weapons at the ready.
We slowly moved through the trees until we came to a clearing. The mouse-woman was hanging up her washing on a line tied between two trees. They were plain squares of cloth, white and brown, maybe sheets, maybe more sarongs. We watched from behind the trees. She finished, picked up the empty basket and pushed aside some bushes to reveal a hidden cave. She disappeared into it, leaving the swishing foliage in her wake.
Was this the entrance to a dungeon? Had the others found it? Were they deep inside, battling their way through various levels and boss monsters? There was only one way to find out.
32. Prepare To Fight
“Shouldn’t we all go in together?” asked Claire.
“No,” I said. “I’m going to have a quick look just to see what’s in there. If it’s okay, then I’ll come get the rest of you. If it isn’t, then I’ll be running when I come out. If I’m running, that’s your cue to also start running, got it?”
How brave, how selfless. I planned to investigate this dark, forbidding cave alone—had I suddenly found my true hero’s heart? No. I just didn’t want them stumbling around in there, attracting attention and getting in my way when I tried to get the hell out.
My intention was to literally stick my head in the cave entrance, see what was in there and see if it looked safe to investigate further, and then call the others over. Heroics would be kept to a minimum. And by minimum, I mean exactly zero.
“Remember, if I run out, don’t wait to see what’s behind me, don’t ask questions or make any noise at all—get in the water and head for the island. If they can swim, at least we’ll be able to defend ourselves better there than out in the open. Get there as fast as you can and prepare for battle. Okay?”
“What if you don’t come back?” asked Claire.
“Then good luck and I wish you all the best.”
I crept out from our hiding spot and tried to cross the open area as quickly and quietly as I could. The bushes in front of the cave did a good job of concealing the entrance so I hoped they also hid my approach from anyone inside. The hole seemed to have been made in a mound of earth not much taller than me. As I stepped past the bushes and through the entrance, I could feel the ground beneath my feet slope downwards. I had to duck a little to enter and I remained stooped as I walked down into the gloom unable to see much.
Once the tunnel levelled out, a long, straight passageway stretched out ahead of me with pools of light on the floor. There were no sounds, but the faint whiff of something cooking drifted towards me. It smelled like fish.
The ceiling was higher here and I could stand up straight. I took another few steps forward, my hands touching the walls on either side. They felt smooth but dusty. Then my right hand fell into empty space. I pulled it back and retreated, my heart racing. I waited for a moment, but nothing happened so I reached out to the edge of the wall. There was some kind of opening, but it was too dark to see where it led.
After my eyes adjusted to the near-darkness, I sensed a small room. Nobody appeared to be in there, or at least that was the impression I had. I got on my hands and knees and crawled halfway through the opening, feeling around. There was some grass and straw in a pile (bedding?). Then something sharp pricked me, making my hiss in pain.
I backed out. Whatever was in there, it was dangerous to explore without any light. In the passageway, I examined my hand to find my finger was bleeding. I pulled a piece of glass out of the cut.
A high pitched laugh—a female giggle, it sounded like—came from further down. As I peered into the distance, looking for signs of someone approaching, I could make out an orange glow. I found myself moving towards it.
As I slowly walked towards the glow, I found three more openings, two on my left and one more on my right. They were also dark and seemed empty but I decided not to investigate. I quickly crossed one of the the pools of light. It was from a hole above that revealed the blue sky.
The passageway wasn’t that long, maybe fifty feet, and I wanted to see what was at then end. I admit the size of the female mouse had given me confidence in being able to handle myself in a one on one situation. Maybe even overconfidence. She might not be alone. There was a chance I was about to walk into a colony of mice holding their annual get together. And they might be one of those species where the males are a lot bigger than the females.
The sensible thing would be to go get the others, use the torches we’d made so we could see properly and deal with any problems together. I took a few more steps forward.
I could hear voices, squeaky and talking fast.
“That smells delicious, delicious. What a fine cook you’ve become, my darling”
I heard the giggle again.
“Oh, you. There’s no need for flattery, not after what I let you do last night. I can’t believe I agreed to such a thing, you old rascal.”
“We all need a hobby. Helps pass the time.”
“Sometimes I think you’re glad the others are gone. Gives you more time to get up to no good.” There was a loud sigh. “I do miss them.”
“Now, now, don’t be sad. Their replacements will be here soon, only a few more days. Then we’ll teach those cowardly humans a lesson for taking our boys from us. They will not be forgiven!”
I was close to the end of the tunnel now, my back pressed against the wall. The orange glow was coming from a fire pit which had a metal pot hanging over it. The female mouse was crouched next to it, stirring the pot. Beside her stood another mouse, but male. He was about the same size as her, maybe a little shorter, but broader. He looked old. He had a white beard and a walking stick he leaned on as he inspected the contents of the pot.
“Back, bac
k,” said the female. “It isn’t ready yet.”
He backed off. “Well, I suppose I’ll go get things ready for later. Ha ha, I’ve thought up a new position for you, I can’t wait to try it out.” He started to move in my direction. I hurriedly backed off and ducked into one of the openings as he walked past the end of the tunnel to the other side of the room.
I switched sides and pressed my back against the tunnel wall in time to see the male mouse’s head peeking out from a trap door in the ground.
“Call me when it’s ready, my darling. I’m ravenous—for the food and for you.” He said it with a flourish that earned him more giggles and then he disappeared, leaving a tatty rug covering the ground where he’d been.
