The small, dark being hunkered broodingly on a thick, outstretched limb just beneath the true canopy of the forest, her wide, cold eyes following the creatures on the road beneath her perch. They were tired, and she could see it; stressed, and she could smell it; lost, and she could hear. Their fear she could almost taste. She opened her mouth and felt the air with her teeth, measuring the flow, testing the vibes and the texture of the emotion, the firmness in the timing. Her ears quivered and the breath hissed through her throat; it was ripe. Today was a day to reap.
Wisps of gossamer mist like the thoughts an feelings from a sea of bodies drifted and swirled around her black form as she made a motion, convulsing as though being wracked by a fit of sneezing. Dropping silently to the ground, the black rabbit hopped after the two travelers, pale eyes glinting like diamonds in the shadows of the trees. Although it was only midday and the tree cover was not terribly thick, the air seemed to grow darker, sinister and shaded. More eyes shone in the gloom, and other shapes began to emerge from the underbrush and trees, joining the first and approaching the figures on the road until a countless horde of rabbits hopped before, after and all around them, all black pelts, all pale eyes, all twitching ears and whispering teeth. A fog had fallen, thick, twisting and boiling and obscuring all but a few steps before the ones walking; the travelers didn't seem to notice.
Micky stumbled on the road. She was barely a mare, only just having grown from being a foal, and her footing wasn't always as sure as ponies' are expected to be; even so, it was embarrassing how clumsy she felt, especially beside David, who always seemed to know where to put his feet and always looked so sure of himself. She anxiously glanced over at the little dog, hoping he hadn't seen.
"It's okay," he told her without breaking step or turning from the road. "Everybody trips sometimes. It's not like we have anywhere to be that falling over will keep us from."
"Yeah," she sighed, trotting slightly to keep up with the quick-footed terrier. "I just feel like I fall all the time. I'm so clumsy."
David shrugged. "It happens. You could always blame it on the light, too." He halted and looked around at the dim forest. "It always seems to be night here."
"I've noticed that, too," Micky agreed, grateful for a breather. "It wasn't like that when we came in to the woods, but now it's like the sun doesn't even rise."
The dog nodded, still peering off into the gloom. "You getting tired?" he added after the silent gesture.
"I'm always tired," the young pony murmured. David sighed heavily and hung his head. He reflected the sentiment. They hadn't been traveling long, but this stumbling around the countryside without direction was starting to feel like a great burden to him. When once he had felt lighthearted, cracking jokes and walking with a spring in his step, now he only felt aged and weary; he was basically still a pup, but for the way he had been feeling, he wouldn't have been surprised to look into a pool and see the reflection of an old hound staring back at him.
"Let's stop, then," he said, sitting down on the road. "There's not much point to keep going anyway."
Micky followed suit. "Do you mean right now?" she asked him, "Or like, forever?" He looked at the young mare, unsure if she was serious or not. She stared back at him, feeling just as uncertain. The small dog shook his head and turned away as though to lay down. That was a question he just didn't know how to answer at the moment.
Something caught his eye then, an inconsistency of the light or coloration with a spot on the ground just ahead. The terrier squinted and was just able to make it out: branching off the road, only a couple of yards from where they had halted their journey, was another path.
"Hey, Micky," he pointed to the spot, "Do you see that path?" The pony scooted forward and stared.
"Yeah, I think so," she confirmed.
"That wasn't there before, was it?"
"I don't know, it's hard to tell anything about this woods for sure." By this time, they had both stood and walked over to the divergence and now waited in place where the two walkways met. They peered down the new path. Micky couldn't explain it, but just standing beside the path filled her with dread, and yet, it was almost welcome; after days of walking without direction, doubting whether or not a destination actually existed, at least this terrifying, weird path seemed to lead somewhere.
"Should we...?" David asked the question they were both entertaining in their minds.
"Okay," Micky said, and they stepped off of the main road.
The dark shapes still swarmed, whispering, surrounding, and always following. The first was excited; her nose twitched frantically and her ears were nearly shaking. She sneezed another signal, and the pack grouped tighter around the couple as they walked down the rabbit trail.
The trees seemed to part very quickly for the pony and the dog, and soon they found themselves stepping out of the forest and onto a flat, lifeless stretch of rock. Mountains stretched high before them, framing one side of the overcast and grey sky. A twilight glow was over everything, toning the air and stone a melodramatic sepia. There wasn't much to look at, so Micky and David kept their eyes on the road; neither truly wanted to keep going, and yet it felt like they had already come far enough that turning around would be pointless. Shortly they stopped, for they could not walk any further.
The path ended abruptly at the edge of a massive chasm. Its sheer sides dropped straight down into abysmal, empty darkness, and the far side, right up against the mountains, seemed like a mile away. There was complete silence in the place, profound, suffocating quiet. Both David and Micky knew without a doubt that this was The End; such a weight of finality hovered in the air that it could be described as nothing else.
"What do you think is down there?" asked David, breaking the silence and peering carefully over the precipice and into the depths of the gorge.
"I don't know," whispered Micky, so overcome with fear that speaking at a normal volume was impossible.
"Maybe there isn't anything," the terrier mused. "There isn't any noise coming out from it. Of course, there's no telling how deep it is."
"David," the pony said horsely. The little dog had edged closer to the drop. He didn't seem to hear her. "David," she said again, this time managing to raise her voice a little. David looked up, appearing almost surprised to find that she was still standing with him.
"I really want to see what's down there," he told her.
"No, David," Micky shook her head. "We have to go back. We have to keep traveling."
"Why?" Her friend seemed almost disconnected, like we wasn't fully present. "Travel where? We could go all over the whole valley and just end up back here. This is the end, the last place to go; can't you feel it?"
"But maybe it doesn't have to be the end yet," the pony suggested, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I don't think we were supposed to come here yet. We have to go back and then when we're supposed to come back, we will, and then we can explore." David ignored her, or at least he couldn't hear her. He was lost in thought, staring down into the pit once again.
"We came here now, so maybe our journey in the valley is over, and whatever's down there is the next step," he mumbled. "Unless there's nothing down there."
"Please, no," the young mare pleaded. She became aware of a sound: soft, fading in and out, jumping like the sound of a stream, but less solid; it was like the sound of a multitude of creatures whispering all at once. She opened her mouth to say something of it to David, but stopped when he turned fully around to look at her.
"I'm going to see," he said. His voice was flat, and his eyes seemed pale, almost misty. "You can come with me, but I'm going."
She was too overcome to say anything, but she mouthed the word "No," eyes wide, heart pumping in her throat. He turned back to the cliff, and she turned as well, running as fast as her legs would take her back to the trees. The distance seemed so much further than when they had left the canopy. She glanced behind her just before he jumped, and for a split second she thought she caught a glimpse of a small black shape on his shoulder, round, with long ears. She couldn't bring herself to watch, so she squeezed her eyes shut and ran harder through her sobs.
The first rabbit was alone again as she watched the other traveler run away from the edge. She was satisfied; even for one, it was a successful reaping. Besides, the dark creature knew, the pony could run for now, but she would be back. She had seen the pit before her time, and now it was in her eyes, her head; she would be back soon enough.
The mist swirled around the black one's ears, and a sunbeam broke through the clouds just long enough to strike and illuminate the wisps, igniting for a brief moment an ethereal crown of light. Her eyes sparked with an unnatural fire. She was the Queen of Black Rabbits; she hadn't dug the Gulch, but she could always try to fill it again. There were always more travelers on the road, always weary wanderers. There would always be those willing to hear the whispering. It only took one rabbit at a time to watch another's steps, because after all, no one should walk alone.
The Queen of Black Rabbits is terrifically creepy! You have written about her incredibly well in the bookend paragraphs of this post. This post has drawn me in more than any of your others. Very well done!
ReplyDelete