Rabbit
Chapter Two

Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: More questions are raised than answered.
Notes:

In the lab, resting on two cots laid end to end, the massive being slept face down, twitching in his sleep. His badly broken leg had taken hours to repair, and was held together with a complex array of plates and pins secured in a cast. He was heavily sedated, but he was slowly awakening from his morphine dreams. Henrik looked up as Rabbit raised his head, watching as the injured being sniffed the air, his expression troubled. He let out a few whooping calls, and seemed puzzled by the lack of response.

“Hey big guy,” said Henrik softly. “It’s okay. We’re here.”

He looked at Henrik with the sort of perturbed puzzlement of any barroom drunk. Henrik grinned as the mighty creature made three failed attempts to clack his blades, then gave up. Henrik walked over to him, reaching out to carefully put his hand on the black, matted hair.

“See? No one wants to hurt you, big guy. You’re a little woozy aren’t you? Yeah, well, that’s okay. This way we can make friends without you biting me.”

The large head came up, the eyes rolled back, the jaw unslung… and then nothing. The creature seemed hopelessly confused. Henrik suddenly realized that he couldn’t figure out how to get his jaw closed in his current state. Henrik chuckled despite himself.

“Come on, none of that, nobody wants to hurt you. Here, let me help…”

Henrik took hold of the jaw and helped to work it back into place, glancing up as Gina came into the room.

“How’s our patient?” Henrik asked.

“He’s a very sick boy. That could explain why he was going after the antelope. Looks like he lost a fight with an auroch. He’s also got a hell of a uteral infection.”

Henrik blinked. “I’m sorry, a what?”

“He’s a hermaphrodite. That’s why he has the expandable pelvis. Nature has designed him to have the same center of gravity as a man, though I’m not sure why. Another interesting thing is he has no nipples, and apparently no mammary tissue of any kind. He has pigment where nipples used to be, but he’s evolved over the centuries to lose the ability to breast feed. Our friend here is not a mammal.”

“Well what is he?”

“He’s a great big eight-foot seven-inch enigma, that’s what he is. Seeing as he is going to be laid up for a while I’d like a chance to study him.”

“What are we going to call him?” asked Henrik.

“Well I’ve been calling him Specimen 889-3032 H.”

“Oh that’s very catchy.”

“We could call him by the name Chloe gave him. Rabbit.”

“Rabbit? Why Rabbit?”

“Look at his clavicle,” said Gina as she seated herself as her desk. “He has a tattoo across the bone of a rabbit with its paw on some sort of basket. The tattoo is pretty faded, but it’s there.”

Henrik looked at the being, eyebrow raised. “Rabbit. Well why not. It’s better than ‘hey you’. Hey Rabbit. How’s it going?”

Rabbit burped. Henrik sighed. “Terrific. So what is he, besides not a mammal and… not actually a ‘he’?”

“He’s a very, very big predator, possibly even an apex predator. I doubt there is much bigger or meaner than he is stalking these plains. If he’s not a mammal then that likely means his babies come out of the womb eating solid food, which could have certain advantages, as would being a fully functioning hermaphrodite. I can’t really speculate too much on his babies, having never seen one…”

“You’re talking about him as if he’s an animal. Look at this, he’s got clothes, tattoos, a…” Henrik picked something up off the table and took it out of the sheath. “…really big hunting knife…”

“He’s clearly achieved a certain level of civilization, and I’m not disregarding the accomplishments of his species, but he’s not human. Not even close. And right now I am looking at him for what he is – a big freaky something-or-other.”

“Is that a scientific term? Like greeble or what-ya-ma-callit?”

“Yes. It fits very well with other scientific terms like doohickey and thingie. Or...”

Rabbit threw up.

“…eyew,” finished Gina. She pressed a button on the wall, calling through the intercom. “Eddie! We have stomach contents to analyze!”

“And it’s not even my birthday,” said Eddie dryly.

“Just get in here and bring a shovel.” She released the button and looked to Henrik. “What came out?”

“A zoo. This... this is disgusting! There’s… broken chunks of bone, probably auroch-bone. There are some kind of shrimp, a half a rabbit, hair included… and some sort of green slime. And nothing has been cooked. It all looks raw…”

Rabbit threw up again.

“…okay that looks like it may have been cooked. Whatever it is.”

Eddie arrived with a bucket and a scoop and began gathering the mire to study. “Doesn’t believe in chewing, does he?”

“Apparently not,” said Henrik. “Looks like a graduate of the boa constrictor school of fine dining – if it fits in his mouth, he swallows it.”

Henrik picked up a damp cloth and began wiping Rabbit’s face with it, cleaning away the sweat and any vomit he may have got on himself. The large being endured it, making quiet huffing noises of annoyance. He struggled into a sitting position, wavering back and forth, resting on his left hip, supporting his upper half on his arms. Henrik raised an eyebrow.

“Well… you’re a big fellow, aren’t you? C’mon, be nice and let me clean your face, you’re all messy…”

Rabbit put his head up defiantly, forcing Henrik to reach, turning away each time the cloth got close. Then there was a snapping noise made by tendons as the jaw flung open, and Henrik froze as he found his entire face held ever so delicately between the formidable sets of blades. Gina gasped.

“Henrik are you okay?”

“Don’t move,” said Henrik quietly. “I think he’s playing. I think he’s just a little high, and…”

Rabbit belched, and Henrik was hit by a disgusting warm wind flavoured with carrion and old fish. Henrik reached up and gently pushed Rabbit’s face back.

“Bad alien. Very very bad alien. It’s not nice to scare people and burp on them. Naughty.”

Gina laughed. “Well let’s just let him relax while Eddie analyzes what Rabbit kindly donated in the name of science.”

* * * *

“So what’s the verdict?” asked Henrik.

“He’s a badass mother,” said Eddie. He poked at a piece of bone, then lifted it up. “Look at this. It wasn’t just accidentally swallowed, it was snapped, shattered and chewed. He’s got the eating habits of a T. Rex, whatever it is, it all goes down. And he’s not picky. There are bits of insects, fish bones, rodent bones… anything. His stomach is a small-animal cemetery. But what’s really interesting is this. Look. The raw meat is ripped and swallowed. But this here is cooked, and the marks on the bone seem to be made by a knife, not one of his blades. Which, incidentally, he will eat as well.”

Eddie held up a piece of one of the formidable cutting blades.

“He’s not a cannibal, is he?” asked Gina.

Eddie shook his head. “No, it’s his. I had a good look in his mouth when he was unconscious. The blades seem to fall out once they become too worn to be of any use and a new one grows in. However at this point I wouldn’t put cannibalism past him. But what’s most interesting is the green stuff.”

Eddie picked up a tray containing slimy plant matter and showed it to Henrik and Gina. “There are two types of plant in here, both of which grow in the river. This one is loaded with iron and calcium, and, as I determined earlier when I went and pulled up some from the river bed, quite tasty. This other one, however, when crushed or chewed seeps a milky substance chemically identical to that obtained by incising the unripe capsules of Papaver somniferum.”

“Which is?” asked Henrik.

“You would call it the Opium Poppy. It’s where we derive morphine from. Also heroin. My guess would be he’s been self-medicating.”

“That was a hell of a break in his leg,” said Henrik.

“Well this would definitely make him forget about his leg. He was probably lying in his cave with ‘In A Gadda Davida’ running through his head.” Eddie gazed down at the ghastly display of stomach contents before him. “It’s absolutely fascinating, he seems to walk a straight line between animal and civilized being. He cooks when he has the time, but if he doesn’t he just snaps down whatever is there. He wears clothes and footwear, but he seems to have never been on a bed in his life… it’s so odd.”

“How do we know the cooked food wasn’t stolen or scavenged?” asked Gina

“It could have been. It is the most recently ingested…” Eddie looked thoughtful. “We should find out if any cooked meat has gone missing.”

“Well he would know where to find it,” said Gina. “I ran a scan of his head. The portions of his brain dedicated to sight, smell and hearing are enormous. He’d not only hear a gnat fart in a hurricane, he’d be able to track the smell visually. I’m willing to bet he was observing us for months before he showed up in Chloe’s play yard.”

Rabbit clacked his blades, though the gesture seemed to lack any real malice. He began trying to get up, but couldn’t. Confused and drugged, he looked around, Henrik stepping back to watch what he was doing.

“If he falls off that bed, we’re in trouble,” said Gina. “It’s not like we can stop him from hitting the floor.”

“Can’t we drug him again?” asked Henrik.

“No, we don’t know what it will do to him. We may have just gotten lucky this time.”

Rabbit managed to get off the table, standing on his one good leg. Henrik could tell from the expression in the hell-green eyes that Rabbit was confused, and likely still heavily drugged despite the hours that had passed since he had awakened. Henrik stepped close, trying to help him, but was rebuffed coldly. He moved back, and watched as Rabbit looked around, weak, drugged, and likely worried as well. Henrik wondered if Rabbit had ever been on a bed, let alone inside a building.

“Rabbit,” said Henrik softly. “It’s okay. Lie down. Just rest. No one here wants to hurt you.”

Rabbit tried to take a step, then stopped, as if remembering that his leg was broken. Henrik took his radio out of his belt and spoke into it.

“Geoff I could use some help here.”

Geoff arrived in moments, looking at Rabbit. “Holy shit, he’s up.”

“I don’t think he wants to hurt anyone,” said Henrik. “I think he just wants to leave. I don’t think he’s ever been inside before.”

“Then what do you need me for?”

“To help catch him if he falls over.”

“Buddy I don’t know how to tell you this, but if he falls all we are going to get is mashed.”

Henrik watched as Rabbit tried to sort out his surroundings, looking around in bleary befuddlement. Henrik stepped closer.

“Come on, let’s just get you back on the bed, okay? Lie down…”

Henrik helped Rabbit back onto the bed. Rabbit seemed too confused to really understand what was going on, but he didn’t put up a fight.

“Let’s take him into the arboretum,” said Gina. “He might feel better in there. Geoff help Henrik to wheel him down the hall.”

Rabbit was quasi-perched on the bed, upper half raised up on his elbows, looking around in bewilderment. As the bed began to move he uttered a series of tiny little worried chitters. Henrik grinned as Gina melted visibly.

“Easy there, girl,” he teased.

Gina placed a hand over her heart. “Oh god that is the cutest thing I have ever seen a nine foot tall alien do.”

“Well come help keep him on the bed.”

They wheeled the befuddled biped to the arboretum and managed to get him settled on a mattress on the grass. That seemed to be considerably less worrying for Rabbit, and he settled easily, lowering his head to sniff at the surrounding grass.

“He is just so mind-bendingly cute,” said Gina.

“Yeah when he’s doped and floppy,” said Henrik. “No telling what he’ll be like when the drugs wear off. He did snap at you and me.”

“Oh he was just scared, weren’t you?” said Geoff. He knelt down to move some of Rabbit’s long, tangled hair aside, then made a face as a tongue slowly swiped over his hand. “Oh that was just nasty. Now why did you have to lick me like that?”

“Well maybe he’s never seen a black man before and he wanted to know what flavour you were,” said Henrik.

“Well if the saying ‘you are what you eat' is true then I’m pizza-flavoured.” Geoff knelt down on the ground beside Rabbit, indicating something on the large alien’s wrist. “Look at these markings. What do these look like to you?”

Henrik peered closely at the marks. “Tattoos?”

“Yeah I think so too,” said Geoff. “But look how faded. I think this used to be a solid colour, but it’s faded so much it looks like a bruise. The one on his collarbone is a lot newer, but still, how old does a tattoo have to be to fade to this extent?”

“Maybe it’s the ink,” said Gina.

“Maybe,” said Geoff. “But my neighbour back home is eighty-seven, and the tattoo he got sixty years ago on his arm is a lot more clear than this. Wonder what it means? He’s got another around his right bicep. Man that is some old ink. What is that? Like a vine, and… berries, maybe?”

Rabbit made a quiet sound of protest. Geoff laughed and stood up.

“Poor wobbly thing. Okay, we get the message. I hope you remember we were nice to you when you wake up.”

The trio watched as Rabbit settled himself, then closed his eyes, slipping into a heavy sleep.

“What do you suppose he dreams of?” Gina asked as the three quietly left the room.

* * * *

In the darkened peace of the arboretum Rabbit lay, dreaming of times long past, and his family, short scenarios of what had been, playing in his mind like fragments of a movie…

The world was wet and cold and squishy, but it was infinitely preferable to the tiny hot chamber that had so rudely squeezed him out as an undignified heap in a puddle of fluid. There had to be better ways to arrive.

The infant coughed and gasped, then howled his outrage about his inglorious appearance. He felt something nuzzle him: something huge, but warm and friendly. Jaws that could cleave through the vertebrae of a deer’s neck gently clipped the umbilical cord, and that was it; the baby was free. The tiny squiggling infant began struggling to sit up, watched by mismatched eyes; one greenish-yellow, like sunlight filtered through leaves; the other ice blue. Both eyes anxiously watched the newborn for signs of weakness or ill health, while the other three beings in the birthing hut came to examine the baby.

“Too small,” declared one.

“And dark,” agreed a second. “It can’t possibly be yours, Snow Fire. I say you smuggled it in.”

Snow Fire’s smallish, slender little body was running with sweat, and his white hair hung limp and dank despite the cool of the day. It was only early spring; a bit soon for birthing, but he had learned his lesson five years ago when he had been heavily pregnant through the hottest part of the year. He would not do that again any time soon.

A truly huge Plains Elf poked his head into the hut. Stone Horse had been waiting for hours, and though he was not actually supposed to see the baby until after the Shaman blessed it, he couldn’t wait.

“Is that mine?” he asked, eyeing the wobbly little thing on the blanket, still trying to sit up.

Snow Fire rolled his eyes. “No it’s the Shaman’s. Of course it is yours!”

“Well it could have been Skunk’s, they all look alike at this age.”

Skunk had been labouring with twins for four hours now, his white and black streaked hair lank and damp. “Do I look like I have birthed? Be gone with you, there are Elves working in here and the last thing any of them want to see is the Aie. Murder is frowned upon.”

Stone Horse pouted and withdrew, and moments later Fox Walking poked his head in. He looked at the baby.

“This one’s the wrong colour, put it back. The last two were white like their Sia.”

“Well this one is dark like his Aie,” said Snow. “And anyway, he is perfect. Are you going to bless him or do I have to bite you?”

“Oh I’ll bless the little wiggle-worm, I suppose. Come to Sia-Ehre little one. You are most fortunate; a baby born at sunrise is a very good omen indeed!”

Fox Walking picked up the baby, wrapping it in a rabbit skin blanket. The child was heavy, he noted, and already his baby-bones seemed longer than was common. He would have his Aie’s impressively large frame when he was grown. That was, if he made it. The life of the Thrayre-Iyre was not easy, but it was bad luck to speak of infant mortality in the birthing hut. He sang the blessing, and by the time he was done, the infant was asleep. He passed it back to his Sia, who cradled the tiny form close. Exhausted, mother and baby laid down in the hut and fell asleep.

The world was warm and green and wide, and he could run forever and never see the end of it. At least he could run until his two ehrer caught him and prevented him from running into the pond or the mud or the smoking hut or the weapon maker’s hut or any other place fun. The baby was less than a day old and already up on his feet. He could go in a straight line just fine, but changing direction was a skill that was yet a bit beyond him. His eldest ehre, Silver Bird was twenty, and could leap and bound as only a young Thrayre-Iy could, and had just scooped him up to prevent him from running headfirst into the fish drying racks. The infant dropped his jaw, rolled back his eyes and gave his ehre a severe gumming.

“YUCK! SIA! HE DROOLED ON ME!”

Snow Fire groaned. He was still exhausted, and not especially happy. He nipped his therlu, who groaned and sat up, calling to his eldest child.

“Silver Bird, bring the wiggle-worm here.”

“Do not call him ‘wiggle-worm’,” said Snow Fire sleepily “It will stick.”

“But it’s cute! He’s a cute baby! And he is the only baby who looks like me; the two older ones are both ice-white like their most beautiful Sia. So I should be able to name him.”

“Do NOT call him wiggle-worm!”

“You, my love, are no fun.” Stone Horse looked at his therlu. Snow Fire was truly beautiful. He reached out to touch the long white hair. “But may I name him?”

“If you swear not to name him wiggle-worm.”

Stone Horse sighed. “I swear to Titania, maker of the sky and the earth and the good things contained in both that I will not name our child wiggle-worm.”

“Thank you.”

“But it is a cute name.”

“Stone…”

“No wiggle-worm.”

“Thank you.”

Stone Horse grinned and accepted the newest member of the family from his eldest child.

“Call him ‘droolie-poo’,” said Silver Bird.

“NO!” Snow Fire was in no mood for nonsense. “No wiggle-worm or droolie-poo, and no more of such suggestions! Silver Bird where is your ehre?”

Silver Bird pouted. “By the pond.”

“Then go fetch him. I will get the dried deer meat from the smoke hut. I swear if I did not make you two eat properly you would stuff yourselves on wild garlic and honeycomb.”

“I like it!” pouted Silver Bird. He turned around and bellowed towards the pond; “SPIRIT FOX, SIA SAYS GET YOUR UGLY BUTT OVER HERE NOW!”

“MAKE ME, POOP-FACE!”

Snow Fire growled a warning, and took his tiny bundle from his therlu and began walking to the smoke hut.

“Let them eat deer,” he said softly to the baby. “Sia shall take you to the pond and catch you crayfish. And never learn to talk.”

The yet-unnamed baby pulled his Sia’s white hair and watched his mismatched eyes, smiling.

The world was dark and cool and mystical, and the baby sat on the pallet bed between his Sia and Aie, watching the great full moon rise. It was orange and huge and spiritual, and he could not take his eyes off it as he sat and used his baby teeth to eat the soft, sweet crayfish his Sia had caught and shelled for him. Snow Fire and Stone Horse watched the moon as well, while the two older children slept.

“It is a good omen,” said Snow Fire. “It promises a summer of bounty.”

Stone Horse nodded. “Aye, it does, and a life of bounty as well. Our little one will live a long and blessed existence.”

“We still have yet to name him,” said Snow Fire.

Stone Horse looked at the new baby, seated on the pallet, quietly eating, his blue eyes fixed on the huge glowing moon.

“Ta’Na Yar7,” said Stone Horse.

“Nay, too long,” said Snow Fire. “It is bad luck to give an infant such a long name. That is for when he is grown.”

“Then we shall shorten it. Yar.”

Snow Fire smiled. “Yar. I like that.”

“But I reserve the right to call him wiggle-worm.”

Snow Fire laughed. “Oh very well, if you must. But Yar is a good name. It is a name that will bring wisdom to him. He will forever be watching the horizon, meditating upon the ways of spiritual things.”

Stone Horse smiled. “Yes. Such wisdom will serve him well. Perhaps he will grow to be a shaman, like Fox Walking.”

“I will speak to Fox Walking about such an education. I would like him to be wise as well as a great hunter and clan warrior, like his Aie.” Snow Fire leaned over his new baby to kiss his therlu, while little Yar ate his crayfish and watched the moon make its slow and stately way into the night sky. Then, when his tummy was full, he lay down and closed his eyes…

Disclaimer:

All original fiction and the characters, places and situations with them are copyright Alyx Shaw, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.

The characters, places and situations described in these stories are fictional unless otherwise stated in the story headings.

(C) 2008 Alyx Shaw