Page 2 of May: Bloom & Bane

The more I plead, the more the earth seems to ignore me. My panic only makes the vines thicken. Thorns the size of my thumb curl outward to meet the fox’s advance.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I try to tell him. Instead, a seismic rumble sounds from my chest, carrying through the meadow and making the trees at the edge of the forest shiver.

The fox’s ears flatten against his head. He barks a sharp, squalling sound that pales in comparison to my roar. He holds my gaze for one more breath, then turns and melts back into the treeline.

The chill lifts from the air, and the earth beneath me thrums back to life. I sink to my knees.

What is happening to me?

The vines around my legs unwind slowly, retreating back into the soil.

I press my palms to the earth, trying to calm the trembling in my hands. My claws dig into the dirt, and I watch helplessly as tiny white flowers bloom where I touch.

A soft rustling sound makes me hold my breath.

The bunny from earlier sits three feet away, nose twitching, watching me with those same wide eyes.

“You came back,” I whisper.

It hops closer, stopping just out of reach. Its ears flick forward, and a gentle pressure spreads through my mind.

Safe?

The thought isn’t mine.

I stare at the creature. “I… think so?”

It takes another hop closer, and the pressure in my mind becomes louder.

You smell like spring… and winter at the same time. Confusing.

I reach out my hand, careful not to scare it. “I won’t hurt you,” I say, my voice cracking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The bunny hops into my outstretched hand.

“You can talk?” I ask.

You can hear. The bunny sniffs my skin. Most can’t. You’re special.

“I’m… I’m hearing a rabbit in my head.”

Yes.

“What are you?”

It pauses, dark eyes meeting mine.

I’m a rabbit. What are you?

“I-I don’t know,” I admit.

The bunny considers my words, its ears twitching thoughtfully.

That’s okay. I didn’t know I was a rabbit at first, either. Mother told me. Maybe she can tell you too.

A laugh escapes me. The sound startles a nearby bird into flight, but the bunny only settles deeper into my palm, tucking its tiny paws beneath its body.

You’re scared, it observes. I can feel it. Like thunder in the ground before it rains.