A Taste for Rabbit Page 16

  “You speak with an accent.”

  Harry tried another tack. “Do you know two rabbits named Dan and Wally?”

  “What?”

  Harry repeated his question.

  “Yes, I’ve … heard of them,” Quentin replied cautiously. “Why do you ask? Do you know them?”

  “Do you live at the rabbit warren inside the old fortress?” Harry went on. “Are all the others like you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Intelligent? Self-aware?”

  The rabbit nodded. “I suppose it’s the same for you?”

  “Yes.”

  They sat in silence. Harry’s stomach rumbled. “Do you have any food?” he asked. The wind was picking up and the snow began to swirl around the clearing. Harry repeated the question more loudly, striving to be heard over the wind.

  “No,” Quentin called back after a moment.

  He’s lying again, Harry thought. I saw some interesting-looking packages in those open sacks lying about. Why would he have blankets and a book but no food? “I’ll be leaving, then,” he said. “There’s an Inn not far from here where I know I can get a decent meal.” He picked up the lantern and turned away.

  “Wait!” Quentin called. “Don’t leave. I was wrong. There is some food. I’ll … share.”

  Harry walked slowly across the clearing until he stood in front of Quentin, who leaped to his feet but backed up as Harry came closer.

  Harry put the lantern down. He rummaged through the open pack nearest to Quentin and pulled out a small, heavily wrapped package. “What’s this?” He smelled it; it was sweet and scented with cinnamon. His mouth watered. “Mmmm. Smells like apples.”

  Quentin snatched it out of his paws. “Not that!”

  Harry turned to Quentin, suddenly furious. He reached out to grab it back. “Why not!” he snarled.

  “Harry.” It was a familiar voice behind him. “Found you.”

  Elton.

  * * *

  A short time later, Harry, along with Quentin and Elton, was seated inside a small canvas tent that the badger had produced from his apparently bottomless sample case. The wind and snow howled outside, but the interior of the tent was relatively cozy. Two lanterns — the one Harry had “borrowed” and Elton’s spare — glowed in the center. Harry and Elton sat next to each other on one side; Quentin, surrounded by several packs and some blankets, sat opposite them. He rummaged in the packs and removed three wrapped packages. “Here,” he said, handing them out. “This is the end of the food, except for the apple turnovers.”

  “Why are you saving them?” Harry asked, angry again.

  “That’s none of your business,” Quentin said. “I’m willing to share the sandwiches. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Enough,” Elton said, reaching for one. “Thanks.”

  It had taken Quentin a long time to adjust to the presence of the badger, Harry reflected as he chewed on the sandwich, and Elton’s cryptic explanation had not been overly helpful.

  “Badgers talk. Problem?” Elton responded to Quentin’s question while setting up the tent in the howling snowstorm. Elton had found some stones near the frozen stream bed to anchor the corners of the heavy fabric he’d pulled from his case. At Elton’s direction, Harry and Quentin had searched the underbrush for a dead log; in the end, they used Elton’s sample case to weigh down a corner. When Harry offered further help, the badger shook his head.

  Harry learned that Elton had awakened in the middle of the night, noticed that his lantern was missing, and assumed that Harry had taken it by mistake. When the storm blew in, Elton guessed that Harry had returned to the Inn to wait it out and find Gerard. On his way to the Inn, he’d heard their voices.

  At one point, Quentin walked outside with the lantern and stood staring into the dark woods, breathing hard. Harry turned to Elton. “Did you know about the rabbits?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Elton looked at him over his spectacles. “Didn’t ask.”

  Now inside the tent, Quentin sat, his arms folded for warmth, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders tightly. “I guess you’re going to tell me that all creatures are like you — wolves, badgers, foxes — what else?”

  “Some wolves. Ermine. Weasels. Raccoons,” Elton replied.

  “Oh, of course. I should have known. What about rats and mice?”

  “Rats, yes. Mice, no.” He glanced at Harry, then looked away. “Voles, no. Possum, no. Birds, no. Chickens, no.” He turned to Quentin. “Alone?”

  Quentin shook his head. “My friends are … with the rebels. They’re a group. I don’t know how many — who are living … I don’t know where, but my friend had been contacted by them because … I can’t say why.” He paused. “Gods! That sounded ridiculous, even to me!”

  Harry nodded in agreement. “And these friends who deserted you are going to return? Doesn’t seem likely, especially in this weather.”

  Quentin looked stunned. Apparently it had never occurred to him that he would not be rescued. “Of course they’ll return! Unless they’re dead, in which case I might as well …”

  “Why wait?” Elton said.

  “What do you mean? What else can I do? I don’t know where the rebels are!”

  “I do.”

  Harry turned to Elton. “You do? How?”

  “Customers. Going tomorrow.” He put on the nightcap and slippers and began to unroll a sleeping bag from inside his pack.

  Harry glanced at Quentin. The rabbit’s face was a picture of surprise and relief. “Tomorrow? Then we can go together?”

  Elton was asleep. In a moment the tent was filled with the sound of his rhythmic buzzing.

  Harry was not in the least bit tired, although he had not slept since leaving the cabin. He was hungry. The rabbit had shared his food, reluctantly, but the aroma of the apple turnovers lingered in the air and in his memory. He wanted one.

  Elton’s pack lay beside him, open. Harry looked inside, then turned to Quentin. “Do you know how to play badger checkers?”

  Quentin shook his head.

  “Good. I’ll teach you.” They’d play for an apple turnover.

  Harry set up the board.

  The checkerboard sat on a smoothed-out blanket, the odd-looking pieces carefully positioned on the gray and rose squares. In a far corner of the tent, Elton buzzed softly, his face turned away from the lantern light, his nightcap askew, a paw over his eyes.

  Harry had noticed that Quentin seemed to become more calm as the evening progressed. He’d watched Elton set up the tent, asking questions and nodding at Elton’s cryptic replies. He’d dragged his stuff into the shelter when it was finished and neatly piled the packs into a corner, tucking the one containing the apple turnovers on the bottom. The rabbit’s wary, fearful expression was fading and he’d studied Harry with interest as he set up the board.

  He explained the rules to Quentin. I’ll let him win the first game, Harry thought, to give him confidence.

  Quentin nodded. “It doesn’t make much sense,” he said, “but I’ll try it.”

  “If I win two out of three,” Harry said, “I get one of those apple turnovers.”

  “No. Not the turnover.”

  “There are two. I only want one.”

  “Oh, all right. I can certainly beat a fox at checkers!” he murmured to himself. “But if you lose, you get nothing.”

  “Agreed.”

  Quentin won the first game. He collected the last of Harry’s pieces and smiled briefly. “That was strange,” he said. “It’s not at all like regular checkers, but it’s close enough. May I set up the board?”

  “Go ahead,” said Harry. He could practically taste the cinnamon and sugar.

  The second game started normally, but then Harry played the way he’d learned from Elton — distracting Quentin’s attention, pretending not to notice an important move and then, on his turn, brutally taking Quentin’s pieces, and
when challenged, inventing a new rule that worked to his advantage. After a few angry protests, Quentin grew silent. When Harry won the third game, the rabbit stood up quickly.

  “So this is a game without rules,” he said. “I should have known.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s cheating.”

  “That’s what I thought at first,” Harry said calmly, “but I was wrong. This is badger checkers — it’s different. You can ask Elton.” He reached over to the pack. “I’ll take that turnover now.”

  “Here.” Quentin got there first and handed it to him.

  Harry tore open the wrapper and wolfed it down in two bites as Quentin watched.

  “What kind of game is it where the rules are made up as you go along?” the rabbit persisted a moment later. “Where’s the fun in winning a game like that?”

  “I like to win. Winning is fun. Why does it matter how I do it?”

  Quentin shook his head. “I’ve always hated cheaters,” he said under his breath, but Harry heard him.

  “It’s not cheating,” Harry said again, impatiently. “Besides, I hate to lose. What’s the point of a game, anyway? Why follow someone else’s rules? Who has the right to say what the rules should be for the rest of us?”

  Quentin turned to him. “You have to follow rules. Otherwise everyone does what they want, and when that happens …” He stopped. “Never mind.”

  “Is that what rabbits do?” Harry asked. “Is that what you do? Always follow the rules?”

  “Yes…. Well, almost always.” He seemed to think for a moment. “I guess it depends.”

  “Just like badger checkers! Look — you lost. It’s not the end of the world. It’s only a game.”

  “That’s like saying ‘It’s only a snake.’ It’s easy to win a game like this,” Quentin said, angry again. He gestured to the board. “You just do what you want. It’s harder to win when you play by the rules. You should try it sometime.” But he seemed less convinced and turned away.

  Oh, relax, Harry thought. What a stiff, humorless creature this rabbit could be, scolding like a skunk in an onion patch. He opened the flap of the tent and walked out into the snowy dark.

  The air was cold but fresh after the warmer confines of the tent. Quentin had certainly gained confidence in a short time, Harry thought. Only a few hours ago he’d been cowering against a fallen tree, terrified, clutching a stick and pathetically threatening to defend himself. Now he was talking about hating cheaters and the importance of following rules. This new breed of rabbit was clearly more adaptable and intelligent than Harry would have expected.

  A few moments later Quentin stepped out of the tent and stood beside him. “Those turnovers were meant for my friend’s child.”

  So? thought Harry. There’s one left. Unless I can find a way to get my paws on that one too.

  “He recently disappeared, along with his mother and siblings. We were hoping to find them alive.”

  “Disappeared?” Harry said, suddenly alert. “What do you mean?”

  Quentin told him. “Some of us think it’s predators,” he said, looking at Harry, then glancing away. “Others think it’s our own government, although that kind of immorality is hard to imagine,” he said. “It’s probably pretty common in your world,” he added.

  “It’s pretty common everywhere,” Harry said. He paused. “So you do know Wally and Dan,” he said, guessing.

  Quentin was clearly startled. “Yes. But how could you possibly…?”

  “We’d better go inside,” Harry said.

  * * *

  An hour later, Harry stopped talking. Quentin sat silently, his head in his paws; when he looked up his eyes were red. “This is the most horrible thing I have ever heard,” he said hoarsely.

  Harry nodded.

  “And you say it’s your brother who is behind it all?”

  “Yes — and those two rabbits.”

  “Are you and your brother two of a kind?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you like him?”

  “Do I seem to be capable of that kind of behavior?”

  “No. But I’ve never talked to a fox before. For all I know, every one of you could be like Isaac.” He took a deep breath. “This trade must end. It is barbaric.”

  In the corner of the tent, Elton’s snores stopped suddenly with a snort and a cough. The badger opened his eyes.

  “Morning?” he said groggily.

  “No,” Harry said. “It’s still nighttime. Quentin and I have been talking.”

  “About what?”

  “I’ll tell you.”

  While Harry talked, Elton stood up, put on his spectacles, tucked away his nightcap and slippers, and pulled on his worn brown boots and the tweed jacket. When Harry mentioned Gerard, Elton stopped and turned to him.

  “Gerard?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  Elton’s face was expressionless. “Ah.” He continued packing his things. He folded the checkerboard. “You played?”

  Quentin nodded. “Yes. I didn’t like it. It feels like cheating.”

  “Not cheating,” Elton said firmly. “Different rules.” He repacked the board and the pieces and continued until everything but the tent was neatly stowed.

  Harry glanced at Quentin with a look that said, “See? I was right,” but the rabbit was staring at the ground.

  “I didn’t think the world could be so awful,” Quentin said, his voice flat and defeated. “I’m not that innocent. I know life can be hard, that you can’t always depend on the gods. Good luck for some who don’t deserve it, bad luck for those that do, rumors of slavery beyond the mountains. I know all that.” He ran a brown paw over his face. “But this changes everything I have ever believed about what the world is like. Our own government murdering its citizens for gold! All the things I believed in and thought everyone else did too — gone.” He looked at Harry, his eyes haunted. “Gods! We’re all related or connected in some way — don’t they see that? Doesn’t that matter?” He buried his head in his paws again.

  I understand how he feels, Harry thought, surprised. “I remember when I was very young, I thought the world was a wonderful place,” he said. “Then … it changed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Harry found himself searching for words. “I saw liars and hypocrites … succeed. No one seemed to notice. Creatures who were selfish and greedy became rich and powerful.”

  Quentin looked up. “What did you do about it?”

  “Do? I didn’t do anything! Why would I? It’s not my job to fix things!” Harry said. “The only way to survive in a world like that is to find a way to make it work to your advantage.”

  “And how does that make you any better than the liars and hypocrites?”

  I should never have talked about this, Harry thought. “I’m getting tired of being scolded by a rabbit,” he said angrily. “I don’t see you looking for Wally and Dan to stop them. I see you running and hiding and whining about being lost and abandoned by your friends!”

  “At least I’m not taking advantage of the situation for my personal gain.”

  Harry was stung. He leaped up. “What I do is none of your business!” he shouted.

  “Harry,” Elton said in his deep voice. “Quentin. Not argue.” He paused. “Decency. Kindness. Gone. Maybe forever.” The badger cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said, and patted Quentin on the shoulder. “So sorry.” He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes.

  Harry’s anger melted. He had a fleeting memory of that morning in the woods a long time ago, before Isaac got sick and everything changed. Gone. Maybe forever. A deep sadness rose up inside him. So sorry. He turned away.

  Outside the forest was quiet. They had been up all night; now the snow had stopped and the morning light seeped into the tent. Harry could feel the air warming. He went outside and gathered kindling and wood. Elton came out and helped build the fire; Quentin joined them. The three sat silently near the flam
es, rubbing paws for warmth, as the sky turned pale yellow, then rosy pink, then bright, deep blue.

  As he sat before the fire, Harry thought about the folded bills deep in his pocket. I have found a way to make this situation work to my advantage. Is that wrong? No. Money is neutral. It doesn’t matter where it comes from — it’s what you do with it that counts, and I am going to spend it most judiciously on myself. I have a right to think of my own survival! All the high ideals in the world won’t help you if you’re dead.

  He was surprised when Quentin stood up suddenly. “I can’t sit here anymore,” the rabbit said. “You know, I’m not very brave. I didn’t want to leave Stonehaven with my friends, or jump off the fortress wall — believe me! — but I did it, and now … well, I’ve been picturing this weasel Martin delivering a … a sack … to the guards at Isaac’s gate, and the next morning Isaac’s rich friends secretly taking home to their kitchens…. If I keep thinking about it I’ll go crazy, and I can’t stop thinking about it. I have to do something.”

  “What?” asked Elton, turning to him.

  “I’m going to find that cave, and when Dan and Wally appear I’m going to … I’m going to stop them. Don’t ask me how.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Harry said.

  Quentin looked surprised and a little alarmed. “Why would you do that?”

  “It’s on my way to the Inn,” Harry said, needing to clarify. “I’m just going to help you find the cave — that’s all. What you do there is up to you. Although I have to say, I don’t like this game or the way it’s being played.”

  “I didn’t think it would bother you.”

  “Well, it does.”

  “Oh.” Quentin stared into the fire. “I’m sorry about what I said before.” He looked over at Harry. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.”

  So have I, it seems, Harry thought, although he would never say so. “Apology accepted.”

  Quentin sat down again and rubbed his eyes. “I haven’t slept and I’m exhausted,” he said. “I just need a nap.” He started for the tent. “Wake me when you’re ready to leave.” He opened the flap and disappeared inside.

  I can sleep later, Harry thought. Right now I have to make a plan. How will we manage this? Suppose Elton goes to the rebels and meets Quentin’s friends. He could tell them we’ve gone to find the cave and let them decide if they want to join Quentin. Otherwise, they can all meet here, tomorrow, and return to the rebels together. That might work.