To Hunt Rabbits

A warm, orange-red coloured body walks over the asphalt. Its movement is light, jumping over the gap between the forest edge and stone trail. The shadow is finally gone, finally leaving the rabbits alone. A pink tongue licks away the bright red splattered on its pointy nose. It had been a long time since it could capture something without the shadow lingering over it. A rustling noise causes it to stop. Was it the leaves moving in the wind? Or was it the shadow? It lowers its body to the ground, stalking closer to the sound.

The house is burning. So does all the other ones. The warm summer air competes with the warmth of the fire, both trying to warm the shivering girl. Her eyes are wide, her heart beating loudly in her ears. With a stiff motion she turns around, looking for a perpetrator. Looking for someone to put the blame on. Looking for someone else that had snapped too. She finds no one. With a final look at the houses, she turns around and walks towards the forest.

With a yelp the fox moves out of the way for the brown, long eared creature jumping out of the vegetation. Fear glints in the rabbits’ black eyes, fuelling its movements as it flees. Before the fox can gather its thoughts, the rabbit is gone. With a sigh the fox mourns the loss of another meal. What had scared the rabbit? Left behind by the rabbit is a black trail, a shadow floating just above the ground. With careful and precise movements, the fox creeps closer to the bushes.

The forest sings all around the girl. It is like it is unaware of the great loss, or, perhaps, as if it is celebrating it. The girl stops, looking around her as if searching for something. She straightens up, there it is, her big eyes mirroring her wonder. The only sounds she can hear is the song of the forest, not the screaming from the motor driven blade eating through the trees. She feels something squeezing her heart, a feeling that something has been lost, something that once was such a huge part of her life. She sighs, trying to ignore the squeeze in her chest, and walks deeper into the forest.

The loud thrumming of its heart fills the fox’s ears. Not even the tiny mice it once hunted had hearts beating as fast. The black trail continues, deeper and deeper into the forest. The fox looks around it, it has been a long time since it had been this deep. After all, the outside had finally been given back. The fox continues deeper, driven by a need to find out who scared the rabbit. With a growl the fox creeps closer. Something is wrong. Something is not right about the black trail.

The hut is just like the girl remembered it. A natural brown, with a slight hint of grey, covering the walls. The door unlocked, even though Millies parents had told them that someone might break in. One of the windows broken, caused by not understanding why nothing worked and the anger and frustration that followed. The girl smiles weakly, that tight squeeze intensifying. She hurries over to the old fireplace, two months since it was last used, since someone still were able to laugh around it. In her hand she holds a brown creature. After the fifth week she had ventured into the edge of the forest, driven by a need for something different than the dry bread and can food they were given. It had taken her a while, but she soon got the hang of capturing the fast little furballs.

The fox lets its pointy nose brush slightly over the black trail. With a huff it looks up at the black shadow towering over it. The fox knows that this shadow cannot move, the fox would have been surprised if it could, considering its stiff build and hard edges. A rustling causes the fox to stiffen. It knows this rustling, the loud thumps of feet against the ground, a telltale of an unexperienced hunter. It looks around, the thumping of its heart quieted down by the black cloud forming in its head. Why is it here? Why didn’t it leave? Why can’t it let the fox hunt for once?

The girl sits inside the hut, the sofa soft but dusty. She looks down at her hand. In it she holds something black. It makes her heart squeeze once again, mourning the loss of the glow the thing once had. They had all mourned it. Everyone around her had set their houses on fire and left, on after another. She was the only one who stayed, who tried to wait for it to be fixed. After all, she had plenty of books and food hidden in the pantries. Even if she could not get more, at least until they began giving food supplies, she wanted to stick it out, and she managed to, even if it was only for two whole months.

The fox creeps closer. The black cloud swirls around, noise everywhere. An anger it had never felt before. It would have to give the shadow a lesson, once and for all. After all, why else would the fox have its cunning brain and sharp teeth? With a huff it stops, just as the trail does the same. In front of the fox is a tree, and the shadow leaned up against it. Its chest heaves up and down, its heart beating so loud the fox can hear it. In its hand lies something. A shiny thing, smelling like death and pain.

The girl looks up. She cannot help but smile. In front of her is a little fox, its warm, orange-red body frozen in shock. “Why are you here, sweetie?” she whispers. She smiles slightly. In her hand lies the thing, not the black screen but the thing she had found. Maybe even the whole reason for her to go here, even if she did not notice it herself. She had set the hut on fire as well. She looks behind the fox, at the black trail she has left behind. She leans her head backwards, resting it against the tree. With a smile she lifts her hand. Was this what the others did? Was this why they set their houses on fire and left? She does not know.

The fox stares at the shadow. The way it lifts its hand, opening its mouth as if to eat the thing. A drop of water runs down its cheek, even though the sun is shining and the sky is clear. The fox jumps up in the air, scared by the loud bang. With a last look at the shadow the fox flees, fuelled by the fear glinting in its ears. As it runs it cannot help but think back to the shadow. All this time it had thought its eyes were black as the rabbits, but they were brown, just as the rabbit’s summer fur. Maybe hunting all those rabbits had painted the shadows eyes? With a shiver the fox thought about the possibilities of the same thing happening to it. No, it would not. To hunt rabbits did not colour one’s eyes, it just fed one and kept one happy.

(Might change the layout later, we'll see)