Run, Rabbit

The crow plucked at the wrecked carcass of the dead rabbit like a musician would pluck at the strings of a harp. Its black feathers glistened in the light, throwing off hues of blue and green. The rabbit had been prey to a hungry fox, who had feasted until full, then left the remaining flesh and bones to the open air. They had lain undisturbed in the carpet of grass, until the beady eyes of the crow, ever keen for an easy meal, had spotted it.

About twenty yards away, enclosed by the leaves of a bush, branches entwined together like fingers, was a young rabbit. It watched keenly, eyes barely blinking. Its nose twitched constantly, its bland, brown fur helping it melt into the shadowy colours of nature, hidden beneath the bush. The rabbit had been on its way back to the warren when the crow landed. Instinctually cautious, the rabbit had hidden in the bush. The bird would be unable to carry the young rabbit away, but where there was one scavenging animal, there could be others. And where there was blood and dead flesh, predators would surely follow.

And so, the rabbit hid. And stayed hidden.

The grassy plain that the bush clung to was marked by boulders, trees and other bushes. The warren was the other side of it. The rabbit was waiting for the most opportune time to break cover and head for home.

The crow pecked lazily at the carcass, finally reaching its limit. Eventually, it stalked away, screeching angrily as it took off into the blue sky.

The rabbit waited. Its ears flicked back and forth, listening for the sounds of danger. Hearing nothing but the tune of a soft breeze singing through the leaves, the rabbit made its move. It crept warily from its hiding place, slowly emerging into the light. The twittering of birds made it pause a moment, before it finally announced itself into the full glare of day. Now was the time of most danger, as the rabbit would make its way back to the safety of the warren.

High above, the hawk glided effortlessly on the invisible air, staring keenly at the ground below. There were wide open fields, and patches of land with hefty gaps between the tree canopies. Suddenly, its eyes spotted movement far below. The size of the object communicated it as prey to the brain of the hawk. A rabbit. Gauging the speed the rabbit was moving, the hawk began to descend. Its talons began to flex in readiness.

Seconds passed. The hawk opened its claws out wide, sharp and vicious, ready to receive its meal.

Below, the rabbit sensed danger. Some ancient, well-worn instinct flashed to life. Its heart began to beat faster and every impulse it ever knew told it to run.

So, it ran.

Its strong back legs burst into life and thrust the young rabbit forward, just in time for the hawk to catch air. Screeching in frustration, the great bird wheeled around and prepared itself for another try.

The rabbit ran faster, dodging boulders and hopping wildly over fallen branches. Above, the hawk had already re-acquired its prey. Steadying itself on the waves of the wind, it started to descend again.

The rabbit ran faster. Tufts of grass and moss flew into the air behind it. The entrance to the warren was getting nearer. Familiar smells came along the breeze toward it, beckoning it home.

Knowing that stealth was no longer necessary, the hawk screeched loudly, the sound sending a dagger of fear piercing the rabbit’s heart. Once again, the talons opened wide and welcoming, the pin sharp claws glinting like knives. It came nearer. And nearer.

And nearer.

Inches now, until the rabbit would become its next meal.

And then the rabbit leaped into the entrance of the warren, scrambling into the safety of the dirt and the dark.

Once again, the hawk screeched in anger, flying away back into the skies, resuming its silent hunt.

Inside the warren, the rabbit lay still, the beat of its heart making its young body flutter. Seconds passed, then minutes, and slowly the rabbit became settled, the safety of the warren calming it down. The memory of what happened today would fade in time, but the feelings of fear, the responses of instinct would remain, ready to assert themselves each time the rabbit stepped out of the warren and into the danger of the outside world.