FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was mid-afternoon and the sun hung brightly above the forest: Much to the delight of its residents, from the large to the small. One of the later, would be a brown rabbit named Jack, slowly emerging from his burrow. The lapine looked to be a little hesitant. It was far safer to stay inside, and he had plenty of food. Yet, it just wasn't enough. He needed to see light again. He needed to feel the sun's warmth on his fur. He needed. . . to feel free. And so, he'd make his way out, and blink slow, as his eyes adjusted. Jack sniffed the air, and looked over toward a neighboring lake in the near distance. He knew he couldn't get too close, as predators often visited the waters. However, if he stuck near the thicker brush to the south, he could be relatively safe and still enjoy a nice view. Gathering a little courage, he'd stretch his legs and hop off.

Of the forest's many creatures, few would have appreciated the sun's radiance quite as much as one particular vixen. Paige laid, splayed out on the ground, tail lazily flicking to and fro beside her, enjoying the sight of her own rust-orange fur shimmering in the light. The small smile which played over her muzzle made her the very picture of contentment, and yet, strangely, that contentment was in large part due to an increasingly gnawing need. It was the feeling of hunger, that familiar (if somewhat insistent) friend of hers. It was a little message worming about in the pit of her gut, telling her that soon someone somewhere out there was going to die for her. What more could a vixen ask for?

But hunger was a fickle friend. For now it was a prelude to her favourite flavour of satisfaction, but she knew it wouldn't stay that way. Much as she was enjoying her lazy time in the sun, it was time for something even better. Time to track down whichever morsel fate had designated for digestion today, and introduce him or her to her exquisitely deadly form of intimacy. She stretched, sighed, and got to her feet, nose upturned and ears perked.

Slowly, and with great caution, Jack made his way toward the lake. His nose would stay to the air, twitching to all manner of scents. . . attempting to rule out those that are less threatening, and focus on. . . well. . . those that are threatening. For a rabbit, most things were potentially threatening. . . and to a timid bunny like himself, even an unusual smelling tree wouldn't be ruled out. Unfortunately, his over caution would make it difficult to focus, and not just with the lingers smells around him. His ears would pick up every little rustle and every chirp, and to each one, he'd turn his eyes to watch until safety was assured. . . from wherever he was looking anyway. After about the tenth false-alarm, and only half way to his destination, Jack would give a long sigh. Maybe things were safe today? Maybe he shouldn't worry so much? He'd give one more large sniff, before picking up his pace a bit: He could smell nothing close enough to warrant such care any longer, and it was a risk in itself to stay out in the open even as long as he had. Unbeknowst to Jack, however, a strong wind from the north carried any scent behind him away from his nose. . . and carried his scent to any noses behind him.

One of the disadvantages of an anthropomorphic figure was the difficulty in keeping low to the ground. Paige, like most other humanoid predators, had long since adapted, making the best possible use of trees and other natural barriers to be able to shield her movements. It was pressed up against one of these trees that she caught her first sniff of Jack- just the merest whisp of scent on a powerful wind, but to the vixen, it spoke volumes. As a vulpine, smell already meant a lot more to her than it might to a rabbit, or a cat. It was something deeply personal, like an aura which everyone projected around themselves. Every breath of a person's scent told her something, something that couldn't be hidden from her, or kept inside. If you had asked her, she would have sworn up and down that she could know somebody far more intimately from a few minutes of smell than from weeks of conversation. And now, thanks to this little snatch of aroma, a tiny zephyr of his soul (and she already knew he was a he from that whiff alone), some little rabbit was doomed.

Well, hopefully doomed, anyway. Now was when fate took a back seat and it was her turn to hunt. She was already very aware of the direction of the wind, and the weakness of the smell in the strong wind gave her an indication of how far away her prey was, so it was quick work to locate Jack. She took a moment to ready herself, mind focused on the cool sensation as she pressed her back against the tree-bark, and then she was off. Her lithe, dexterous form made its way towards her quarry with light, springing footsteps. She felt like she was on autopilot, mind surveying the landscape without any conscious effort, guiding her by the least exposed or visible route towards her dinner.

Jack was moving a bit more hastily now, but the damage had already been done. He waited near one spot too long, and his scent got picked up. Of course, the rabbit wouldn't be aware of his blunder, and trudged on none-the-wiser. He'd move near his destination, beginning to slow as he took a few new sniffs. There would be a deep sigh, things. . . things were safe now. Not yet moving into any large cover, he'd take a seat and look to the look, watching it peacefully with an expression of calmness. It had been day since he emerged from his hole, and as a wild forest critter. . . he needed this.

His nose twitched sharply, and his eyes downcast. Fresh clover! The bunny wasn't terribly hungry but. . . food is an enticing thing and he couldn't exactly pass it up. Lowering his muzzle, the rabbit reached down to take a large bite of the leafy greens. "Mmmm. . ." he'd mutter softly, his face blissful and calm.

As Jack stood in blissful calm, Paige had achieved a sort of serenity of her own. But while the rabbit's peace was that of a still summer's day, hers was more like the peace of the eye of a raging storm. The exhilaration she experienced in each and every hunt was a unique cocktail of thrills, beyond the ability of her conscious mind to fully understand- the whirling rush of momentum, the sensual torrent of sound, smell and touch, that feeling of deadliness, of being a perfectly balanced knife whirling towards its target... that and more pounded through her slender frame as she closed in on her target.

Approaching, it became clear that the unfortunate rabbit was quite unaware of the danger he was in, distracted by a far plainer meal of his own. The vixen paused a moment, now at the closest point she could likely reach without revealing herself to him. A little smile crept onto her face as she watched him. How cute! She could watch this for hours- the sight of a prey's life before she came into it. But no time for that now, as a little pang in her stomach told her. Without another breath of hesitation, she shot forward towards her prey, throwing herself at him with everything she had.

The lapine continued to munch and nibble at the clover, so sweet and luscious against his tongue. He'd was so contented. So happy. In testament of this, his teeth slightly pressed together and grinded between chews, creating a soft 'bunny purr'. Jack smiled, and looked up to admire the scenery: The gentle lake before him. His ear's twitched. What. . . what was that?! The rabbit quickly spun his head, and looked up with wide eyes. A fox! It was coming right for him! Wasting no time, he'd pivot where he stood and leap forward in a hop filled sprint! He didn't know where he was going, he just wanted to get away!

Ooooh! A fox! Jack was terrified, and he'd tremble as he ran. He'd pant hard and look about frantically, seeking cover to increase the gap or hide within. The bunny wouldn't dare turn his head, too afraid to see the face of his pursuer a second time!

Paige knew what was going to happen before it happened. She saw his head raise, and was instantly sure that she was going to be noticed. She would have had difficulty explaining why, but the certainty was there- as he was taken out of the moment, as his focus shifted from the near to the far, there would be an alertness there which would spot her. Worse still, there was nothing she could do about it. That momentum that was such an exhilerating rush couldn't just suddenly be turned off, and whether she liked it nor not, the chase was on.

While Jack was focusing his attention absolutely on the surroundings and not wasting any of it on his pursuer, Paige was doing exactly the opposite. She had no more than the most basic awareness of the landscape or where she was going, her mind devoted fully to tracking that rabbit. Each tense or twitch of a muscle, each turn or leap, she did her best to follow. Evaluation could come later, but she already knew that this was going to be close. Only the merest sliver of luck or athleticism lay between Jack being able to see another sunset... or spending his final day inside her belly.

Time moved slow to the rabbit. Everything around him blacked, as his instincts took over. . . and there was a deafening silence. As sensitive as Jack's ears were, he could only hear one thing: His heart. *Thump* *Thump* *Thump* It would beat fast, rapid even, as all his fears rushed forward. . . directly behind him. *Thump* *Thump* *Thump* The beats grew in tempo bit by bit as she approached, propelling the rabbit forth, reminding him he was still alive. . . if only just.

Jack's mouth would open and his tongue hung out, as he panted hard. He. . . he was losing speed. Normally, with such a gap, his safety would be assured. Yet. . . there was a, now blatant, downside to staying inside the burrow for so long and not having to forage as often: His legs were out of shape.

*Thump* *Thump* *Thump* The lapine would press hard, summoning every ounce of strength, every ounce of will. But. . . he could feel her closing in. He wouldn't last long. He had to find a place to hide! He had find safety. _ *Thump**Thump**Thump* _ His eyes darted to any and all means of escape. He would nearly lose hope, before his eyes spotted a patch of dirt, rocky soil, laying out among the field of grass. Maybe. . . something dug a nest there? He'd focus in on it, altering his direction and repositioning. It was his best chance!

She was gaining! At first, she hadn't been sure, it was difficult to judge the real difference in speeds, and this rabbit wasn't particularly young or old, or showing any signs of illness. If he'd been fit and ready to run, this chase would have been hopeless from the start, and she'd have been left with that bang of a failed hunt- an emptiness in her belly that would linger for days, regardless of how full or hungry she was, that only that one morsel could ever fill. But no, she'd been correct. This really was going to be close.

Of the various creatures who might find themselves forming part of a vixen's diet, the chasing of rabbits seemed uniquely down to factors outside her control. It was something in the way they moved, the way they utilised their dexterity, that meant she was absolutely helpless to try to steer them, or influence the chase at all. They led, she followed, and by the time they were at the point of running, all other factors- their relative fitness, the starting distance between them, the landscape, and so on- were already decided. Like a gambler who had already picked his numbers and committed his chips, she could do nothing but see how things played out.

Jack was separated from the rest of the world in her mind as distinctly as if he'd been luminescent, and the landscape cast in pitch darkness. The ground in which they moved almost entirely escaped her attention, muscles long since trained to respond to the texture beneath her paws as was needed. So while Jack's mind turned options over and over, and honed in on its desperate gambit, her own was clear of distracting thoughts. She flew at him like a missile as, inch by inch, the distance between them was swallowed up.

_ *THUMP**THUMP**THUMP* _ His heart increased. His movement slowed. Everything was rushing past. The rabbit could feel her, just behind. He didn't know how many inches or feet: He simply felt her and brought panic. Feet still to his goal, the lapine's head turned to face his pursuer. His eye's were large, brown and timid as he peered into the gaze of the one who sought him. It was never wise to get distracted in a chase, even by the one you were running from. . . and it would be in partial reflex, that he allowed it to happen. There would be a shrill whimper, as he made evident his worry.

The vixen had never had the experience of looking into the eyes of somebody whose sole overwhelming desire, in the moment, was to kill her. She had occasionally wondered what it would be like. But being on the other side of it- oh how she adored that! It was singular... indescribable. A perfect moment. Looking into Jack's eyes now- well, that was less than perfect, as instead of smiling down at him locked in her warm, deadly embrace, or resting under her slender weapon of a body, she saw him through the bobbing motion and the aching exhaustion of a chase. Rather than that sweet, dominant, radiant smile of hers which so many prey had seen in their final moments in the sun, he saw her face contorted with effort, as she pushed herself to her limit. His head forced back, the rabbit trembled with new intensity. Now he had to fight not only his aching muscles, but his mind from shutting down in terror. _ *THUMP**THUMP**THUMP* *THUMP**THUMP**THUMP**THUMP**THUMP**THUMP* _ He'd all but give up, his instincts screaming 'you'll soon be killed!', before looking once more to the target. As he focused his eyes on the small dirt patch nearing him. . . he saw a hole. He wasn't even sure if it was large enough to fit him in, or small enough to keep the fox out. It didn't mater. He had to try! And so, all focus on his jump and his timing, the rabbit made a leap of faith.

She was behind him by inches. Moments. That look, exchanged between them, as brief and unclear as it was, had been enough to spur her on. He was hers. Her kill. To lose him now would be like having him ripped right out through her stomach. Her muscles burned with acid, her heart pounded, her gasps for breath filled her ears- so... _ close _! As he jumped, so did she, too soon for it to be a reaction to his motion. No, she had timed her own leap of faith, and as both predator and prey hurtled through their own trajectories, the conclusion was finally, utterly, out of either of their control.

As he dived, he'd feel the breath of the fox, washing over his tail and fur. Any second, he feared, he could feel the piercing sting of teeth. . . and his life would be over. His eyes shut, bracing himself should it happen. In that moment of uncertainty, Jack's mind raced, thoughts of his friends. . . ones who needed him, and thoughts of the family. . . he longed to one day have. His opened, and. . . instead of a sensation of pain from behind. . . he'd feel the wind pass against him. . . as his body fit neatly into the hole. Jack would land inside with a tumble, but wouldn't roll far. The burrow, if one could call that, wasn't especially deep or wide. Briefly frozen in the shock, the rabbit forced himself to his feet, and pressed firm against the furthest corner he could reach, trembling. He'd tense as his paw felt against the dirt behind him, rocky. . . hard, he wouldn't be able to dig.

Watching Jack descend into that hole was like feeling sand run between the vixen's fingers. She followed so close behind that she fancied she could actually taste him the the air that his nimble body left in its wake. It was an awkward end to the chase, which left her hastily bracing herself with her paws to prevent her from bashing her head into that too-small hole. Instead she ended up half a muzzle-length into it, and Jack would see her nose hesitate for a moment, before withdrawing.

Jack laid winded inside, shivering as he looked up. He. . . he could see her! He'd go quiet, hushed, not making a sound. As her muzzle lifted out, he'd take a large sigh of relief. Maybe she'd go away?

For a moment, there would be silence, apart from their paired heavy breathing, and perhaps the rabbit's own heartbeat. That was followed by the rustling sounds of movement just outside the hole. Then, a sudden motion as a stick was stabbed like a spear straight down into the makeshift little burrow. If Jack had been in the wrong spot, it may well have skewered him, but instead it splintered slight at its end against the hard rock ground. Paige may have been used to the dominant position, but she knew all too well how dangerous the most humble of creatures could be in the right situation, and even a blunt-toothed bite of her paw could have caused serious problems if she was unlucky. So instead of worm her own hand around, she poked about with the stick, the thing bobbing about as she explored the dimensions of the little opening. Jack would likely have to retreat his feet as the tip of the stick approached him, but fortunately he was just beyond its reach. Even a longer replacement wouldn't do the job, as it would be impossible to force it far enough around the opening's curve.

The rabbit continued to wait motionless, aside from his nose and ears. He. . . could hear her breathing. . . and he could smell her scent. She was still there. Jack tensed, things didn't feel. . . right. Suddenly, the stick was forced in and it prompted him to wince. It was away from him, but he was still terrified. . . shaking even harder. His eye's stayed to the stick, shuffling himself a bit to avoid its contact.

Finally, it was withdrawn, and the vixen's next weapon deployed: her smooth, sweet, honeyed voice. "Well now, this is interesting, isn't it, bunny?"

Jack swallowed hard. . . and gave another long sigh at the sticks retreat. His eyes shut, and he'd pant freely. He wouldn't get much rest, before his ear twitched, alerting him to her words. They. . . didn't sound so scary. . . as he imagined them to be. Still, he'd keep himself huddled, and shook. There would be a short pause, before a small whimpery little voice carried out. "P-p-please. . . g-go. . . l-l-leave me. . . a-a-alone. . ."

Paige smiled to herself at the rabbit's words. He couldn't see, of course, but it was a saccharine little grin, as lovely as it was dangerous. She settled down onto the ground, lying on her front with her elbows resting on the ground, head cupped in her hands. Behind her, her tail gave the occasional little flick, and she gave her feet the odd little kick as they eased into that pleasant post-exercise ache.

"Oh, little bunny..." She said, voice low and perhaps a little dominant, but seemingly nonthreatening. She left that to hang for a few moments, as she took in a deep breath. Already, the rabbit's scent was starting to pool around him, causing his little chamber to become a cauldron of aroma, a constant source of scent to waft up into her nose. "It's okay. I can't come any closer, you can't go any further. We're just two people now."

Inside the hole, Jack would be able to hear the predator's steadying breath as her body came down from its wild rush. Either she had settled from extreme physical exertion to vulpine manipulation incredibly quickly or she was simply speaking her mind. "Haven't you ever wanted to talk to a fox in safety? I've spoken to so, so many of you little bunnies, but it's never quite a real conversation when all you really want to do is have me let you go." It was true- every conversation with a rabbit it had always been there, either explicitly stated or lurking just below the surface, that search for that elusive, secret combination of words that would rescue them from this situation. "My name's Paige, to start us off. Now you can tell me yours."

Jack continued to fret in his corner, his eyes glancing up to the entrance. He'd take in her soft words again, his body becoming less tense as he raised his nose a little higher. That's not to say he wasn't scared, no, he'd still shake ear to toe. The rabbit had a few encounters with fox's before. . . and was deeply fearful of them, after his last, as he was pinned down. . . and nearly bitten at the neck with a sharp row of teeth.

He'd sigh, and try to keep calm. . . this one hadn't got him. . . and. . . she couldn't, as long as he stayed where it was safe. His ear twitched again, wincing at the thought of her catching 'lots of little bunnies'. Jack whimpered softly, trying hard not to imagine the face behind the words. "M-my. . . m-my. . ." he'd pause and take a long deep breath, "my name. . . is. . . Jack."

"Jack." The vixen repeated the name as if tasting it. It wasn't much of a response, but it seemed like an implicit agreement to talk to her, and that was a good start. She let out a content little sigh and began to idly run one finger around the rim of the hole, feeling the rocky little granules flow around it. "Well, Jack, we can talk about whatever you like, but I have one question I've always wanted to ask a sweet little thing like you. If you could choose- if you could just close your eyes and think the right thought, and become a fox, or a wolf, or a cat, and stay that way for the rest of your life, would you? If you could shed off that fear you must feel every... single... moment... and instead you could feel my hunger... and my satiation?"

The bunny's head lowered as he heard his name repeated back. He was more than uncertain, but reasoned talking would be ok. . . if he stayed where he was. Jack sighed, and peer up, head lifted as the voice floated back in.. He'd tilt his head and blink slow as the vixen's question was presented. Some time would pass as he considered, mostly in deciding what was being asked. He didn't know what 'satiation' meant, but knew the other words enough to reason it. "No. . ." he'd say, his voice soft, and a little less shaky. "I. . . w-wouldn't. . ." There would be a pause, "I wouldn't want. . . to h-hurt. . . others."

Paige let the answer hang in the air for just a moment, and then shuffled slightly closer to the hole, leaning further towards it and causing the interior to darken slightly as her head blocked out some of the sunlight. "I understand, bunny. You don't want to hurt others. But what if you didn't choose it, and it happened anyway? What if you woke up as a fox tomorrow? You might still hate the thought of hurting others, and live the rest of your life in constant battle with your own body's aching urges. Or... you might change. You might learn to love the feeling of destroying another... as much as I do." The last words were spoken in a breathy, almost husky voice, though it retained that sweetness which never seemed to leave this vixen. "So I suppose my real question, what I really want to know, Jack, is: which of those two possibilities scares you more?"

Jack whimpered as he heard the vixen move above. . . and saw the light darken. Her voice helped to ease his tension and the base of one ear lifted as he listened. His soft eyes blinked and his head tilted slowly from side to side. He'd begin to. . . think of it, but struggled. Hearing her state desire of harm, didn't help, and he'd whimper again. He'd sigh and try again as she finished, one paw timidly raising as he stratched his head. "I. . ." he'd answer softly, "I. . . c-could never. . . h-hurt others. . . I would. . . rather. . ." he'd blink some as he thought, s-struggle. . ." He'd pause again. "I c-couldnt. . but. . . I d-don't. . . b-blame you. . . for . . . wanting to. . ."

"Mmm..." Paige murmured to herself, sounding rather pensive. It wasn't really much of an answer to her question, but she let it lie for now. Though Jack, in his current state, may not have really picked up on it, the rhythm of this encounter was a little... off. The shift from life-or-death chase to these sorts of hypothetical musings was just a bit faster than could really appear natural. Perhaps he took the vixen on face value, that this really was a burning curiosity of hers, and that she'd simply pounced upon the opportunity to ask it to somebody whose answer would be unbiased by any attempt at a strategy for talking their way out of her clutches. Actually, that was only part of the case. Paige didn't have much interest in other people's proverbs or sayings, but one motto she was rather fond of was 'The best lie is a true one.' She had far from given up on her meal, but her question, her route of attack into manipulating this little morsel, really was of genuine curiosity to her. A lie, but a true one.

"I suppose what I really find hard to understand, bunny, is why you always run." She let out a little sigh, for a moment just closing her eyes and enjoying that scent, and the feeling of the sun on her rust-colored back. "Because I've asked myself this again and again, but if I woke up tomorrow and my tail was a little fluff ball, and my nose was short and quivering, and my ears were long and floppy, and I saw a slobbering maw full of sharp teeth descending on me... I don't think I would. I really don't think I would."

The rabbit fear was lessening, but he was clearly still frightened, worried. He wouldn't know for sure the intentions of the vixen, nor would think to consider them. All he knew was he was trapped in this burrow. . . and talking made it less scary.

An ear twitched as Paige mentioned not understanding. . . the desire to run. He'd blink, confused. Running was all he knew. To escape from danger. To avoid harm. To live longer. It was an internal drive in him. He just couldn't fathom why she couldn't understand. When she proposed the idea of her becoming a rabbit, one with floppy ears, Jack at first felt this was a better thought. The image of scary sharp teeth made it far less comforting. He'd shiver, and his head would tilt. "W-why. . . wouldn't you run?. . ."

The rabbit would hear a little snort of laughter in response to that question, though it wasn't unkind. "Jack, if I had caught you just now, I'd be happier than you've probably ever been in your life. Having you wrapped up in my arms, it would just be... mmm, I don't think I could even start to describe it to you. What's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" She'd pause just long enough to let an answer form in his head to that sudden question, but continue before he had a chance to answer "Imagine explaining that to somebody who's blind." She sighed again, a long soft sound as she seemed thoughtful once more. "That's what my life is. Those moments, and the times in between." That was a bit of an exaggeration, in truth, but the vixen was trying to get across a point.

The lop-ear, upon hearing laughter, leaned his neck forward. The words that followed. . . made him retract and whimper. This vixen. . . wanted him. Just the idea was making her happy! The bunny trembled and fidgeted, it was harder to think after hearing that! He'd force himself to think on beauty, if only to put himself at peace. Her continued line of questions, helped to lift the focus on his fears. Paige wouldn't see, but Jack's mind drifted into careful thought.

"And what about you? You poor little thing, you're scared and trapped and alone with somebody who wants you dead." It would be hard for the bunny to put his finger on her tone. It sounded completely genuine, but at the same time utterly devoid of sympathy. "And what did you do? How did you end up here? Were you just hungry for something a little bit better than grass? Did you just want to go outside, to spend a few moments of your life not hiding?" Her tone remained the same: empathetic, but not sympathetic. In fact, he may have sensed the tiny little shiver that ran through her at those words.

"So just think, Jack. Think of me as I am, and think of you as you are, and help me understand what you feel is worth running for."

Jack frowned. His situation summed up so simply by his pursuer, with no remorse. He'd whimper softly, a signal of stress, then sigh. The lapin blinked, struggling to answer each question before a new one arose. A paw lifted to his head, and he scratched. The thoughts would soon blend, and his head sagged lower. . . her words or the way they were spoken, were upsetting to him. "I. . . u-understand. . . I. . . have. . . m-more to fear. . . l-less to. . ." Jack cringed, "enjoy. But I. . . I. . . w-want to. . . w-want to. . . mate. . . to. . . have a family. There. . . is still a chance I could." He'd pause. "And If there. . . w-wasn't. . . I. . . have friends. . . they. . . would miss me. . . and. . . I want to. . . s-see them more."

There would be a silence as the rabbit pieced together an idea. He'd take a very hesitant, single-step forward from his corner, as his head lifted higher "I r-run. . . for others. . ."

Paige listened in silence to the rabbit's answer. When he finished, there was a long pause, the silence heavy. "I see." The vixen said, softly, and for the first time it really did sound like they were having a dialogue, that it wasn't just her trying to teach him. "I suppose that does explain it, bunny. You're just less selfish than me." There was another pause, as Paige turned over and then discarded the idea of trying to argue that his explanation wasn't actually that selfless after all, that bringing more bunnies into the world to have to deal with their unlucky place in life wasn't a good deed at all. The best lie was a truth, after all, and she didn't think she really believed that. Besides, she was enjoying the knife-edge between genuine conversation and simple manipulation attempt that they were sitting on at the moment, and didn't see any reason to nudge it too far in one direction.

Jack began to calm, her words becoming easier to stomach. Without the mention of his death, or enjoyment in killing others. . . talking wasn't from the safety of the burrow. . . was less frightening. He'd nod slowly, wearily as she spoke, but the gesture was of course unnecessary: She couldn't see it.

Instead, she continued "I bet there's a lot of selflessness with you bunnies, isn't there?" She mused. "It must be very important to you. But it seems so very unfair. Your life is hard enough already. So let me ask you, Jack-" She inched a little closer to the hole, her muzzle pointed down into its darkness, "-Could I try to persuade you, for once in your life, to be selfish?"

The rabbit's ear perked, some of her words, provoking thought. He'd soon see her muzzle and take a step back, right against the wall once more. . . his shakes returning. Jack swallowed, and took a few breathes. He'd open his mouth to reply, but. . . not yet to her question. "T-the others. . . n-near here. . . I. . . d-don't know if they are. T-they. . . d-don't. . ." His voice grew sad, "let me enter warrens. . . they. . . a-avoid me." He'd sigh, and rest his head low, growing tired, "I. . . I. . . d-don't know. . . i-if you could. . . p-per. . . persuade me. B-but. . . I d-don't mind if you. . . try."

Paige actually heard the rabbit's movement as he backed away from her, though she didn't back off herself or make any attempt to make him feel more comfortable. She tilted her head just slightly at his words, her own soft little smile never leaving her face. If Jack was constantly fighting his instinctive fear to be able to converse with the dangerous vixen, she too had to fight an equally strong urge. Every time the poor, sweet little thing said something that emphasised his fear or his vulnerability, she just wanted to gulp him down, to show him how terrible things really could be...

"Oh, that must be awful for you," She responded, putting her attempt at persuasion on the back-burner for a little while after that intriguing statement. "Perhaps it's not selflessness, then. Perhaps it's more like a group selfishness instead." She let out a soft sigh, but it was a happy sounding one, and suddenly she rolled over onto her back. She lay, craning her head back far enough that her ears lay back into the hole, though her eyes gazed up at the sky. "I wish you could feel the independence of a fox, Jack. Then maybe you'd understand how wonderful selfishness can be." She closed her eyes, once again just enjoying the sensation of the sun beating down on her "But... why?" She mumbled "Why do they treat you like that?"

"Y-yeah. . ." Jack looked up, his head still lowered. "M-maybe. . ." he'd say softly, to her opinion on the motives of other rabbits. Her new movement above made him wince, and his head and body jerked in quick response. He. . could see her nose was upside down. The bunny sighed, and his head and body lowered to the ground. She was relaxing now. . . which gave him more assurance in doing the same. "Thank you. . ." he'd whisper gently, "for. . . wishing better for me. . . and I'm. . . g-glad. . . you are. . . h-happy." The rabbit sighed again, taking in her question and frowning more because of it. "I. . . I'm d-different. . . t-they. . . c-chase me out. . ." he'd answer. "My ears. . . d-don't stand straight."

"They chase you for that?" Paige's voice was languid and relaxed now as she lay in the sun, head swimming in the scent of rabbit, but even so there was a genuine surprise in her tone. But after a moment's thought, it turned more pensive "Amazing, what fear can do to a species." The corners of her mouth crept up further, though even if Jack had been able to spot that from his difficult vantage point, he would have had trouble understanding why- as a predator, she felt like she, in some way, had contributed to that fear, and so, by extension, all that cruelty and selfishness that went on in those underground burrows... and even Jack's own plight.

He had apparently misunderstood her 'wish' for him, but she didn't correct him just now, instead switching back to her original angle of attack. "And amazing that you could still be so sweet and kind and self-sacrificing, despite it." Another, even longer pause then, and when she spoke again, there was a slight shift in her tone. "So, Jack. Let me tell you what will happen if you come out of that hole now. First, I'll pick you up. I'm nice and warm from the sun, especially the white fur on my tummy and chest. I'll hold you there, it's very snug and comfy, and then- well, what we do next would be up to you. We could just lie here together, we could go back to where you were and you could enjoy the clover in safety, look out over the lake... we could go somewhere you've never been before, or a favourite spot. I could show you the places I love too. And at the end of the day, we'd go back to my den together. It's a nice, cozy little spot. I'd be gentle, Jack. I'd talk you through it, and I wouldn't do anything until you were ready. And most of all, I'd respect you."

Jack would still be in thought, of his own past worries, as the vixen interjected with the present. His head leaned forward nervously as he looked up at the hole, imagining things as she spoke them. Despite what the words implied, there was a certain ease he felt by them, and was reasonably calm as he listened.

"I don't think," She went on, seeming to turn each of her words over as if to taste them in her mouth "That anybody else in the forest really could respect you, no matter what they say. You have the thoughtless predators, and to them you're nothing. A meal. A toy. And then you have the predators in denial. The ones who have convinced themselves that what they do is right. Perhaps they've made up rules for themselves, as if it were a game. Or perhaps they don't even think they need to do that. But no matter what they tell you, or themselves, if they think that it's right to end your life for a meal, they can't possibly respect you. They just can't, Jack."

She rolled over again, ending up roughly how she'd been before, only a few inches to the left. Now she leaned even deeper into the hole, talking into it like a lover's ear. "So that just leaves me. Don't be selfless and stay around for somebody else, just so you can be chewed up by some slobbering simpleton, or toyed with and gulped down by some aloof monster. I know it's hard, and scary, but just reach out your hand, and all the fear and worries will be over."

There would silence when the vixen finished. No stirring, no voice, just a quiet hole. Time passed, and the rabbit could be heard getting to his feet. There would be a sigh, and then. . . "Y-you're. . ." the word hung as he took another step forward. . . to sit. "w-wrong." The rabbit took a few slow breathes, no doubt fearful of disagreeing with a predator, even from the safety of a burrow. "I t-think. . . there are o-other. . . p-predators. . . who r-respect me. . ." He'd look down, "And. . . I w-won't c-come out. . . b-because. . . my f-friend. . . n-needs me." The brown lop-ear gazed again to the hole. "B-but. . . t-thank you. . . f-for. . . your offer. . . and k-kindness. . ." he'd add.

The silence below was echoed by silence above, the only movement being a gentle, slightly erratic flicking to and fro of the vixen's huge, luxuriant tail. In truth, she wasn't expecting her words to work, or at least not to actually convince him to hop right into her arms. But there was value in undermining a prey's will, and if nothing else it would at least prove pleasant conversation. Paige always enjoyed getting to know her prey better, it made that final end to their relationship all the more fulfilling.

Despite her lack of hope for the situation, her ears did flick slightly as the rabbit finally got to his feet. She tensed for a moment, ready to snatch any opportunity he gave her, to make sure he wouldn't have a moment to change his mind, but it turned out that no such opportunity came. "Ah, I see." Her voice was, as ever, soft, sweet, sensual. She ran a finger over the earth as if it were a beautiful garment or precious gem. "I understand, bunny. I understand how hard it would be for you to do that. If you change your mind, just say the word. Because it will happen eventually. And now I have your scent, and your name." Despite the implied threat, her tone was no different from how she'd sounded when she was trying to persuade him to give himself up to her. She may have held one or two things back to keep him from becoming too overwhelmed with fear, but the way she presented herself to him was completely genuine.

"But anyway, perhaps we could talk about happier things. How about you, bunny? Do you have any questions for a vixen?"

The initial response was a pleasant one to the rabbit. Maybe she would give up eating him now. . . perhaps even leave soon. The mention of his scent and name, however, brought a tremble to his bones. Even without acute hearing, the vixen would hear an audible whimper. He'd curl in on himself, pushing back against the rock wall which he viewed to be safety. Jack wouldn't answer, his eyes closing now as he breathed heavy. . . forcing himself to believe things could still be ok. He just. . . had to get home! Home to his real burrow, he'd be safe then! It was a natural and instinctual line of self-assurance.

Jack shut his eyes and continued to take large heavy breathes to calm his nerves, a less instinctual method. "Y-yes. . ." he'd say, his voice now grown in meekness. "I. . . have q-questions. . . b-but. . . I. . . w-want to. . . w-warn you." He'd lift his head, "I've. . . b-been c-claimed. . . by. .. a-another. " the rabbit paused. "A f-fox was. . . a-almost i-injured. .. when. . . t-trying to h-hunt me." He'd swallow, "I d-don't. . . w-want you h-hurt."

Paige's serene smile remained on her face as she heard poor Jack whimper in fear. Even unable to see him, she could imagine the terror she was causing in him. Her so dangerous, so ready to obliterate everything he had, everything he was. Him so timid and weak and vulnerable. Oh, she loved it! It suffused her with warmth, reaching deep into her in a way the sun's rays never could. It was going to be so painful to have to let him go. If she had to let him go.

At his next words, though, she raised her eyebrows. Her tail's swishing became a little more erratic, and several different shades of amusement and surprise flickered over her expression before it settled back into its normal state. "Thank you for that, bunny. I don't deserve your kindness, and I don't think you'll ever have it repaid." She exhaled softly, and then continued "But I'm sure you'll understand why I don't believe you. It's unusual to find prey creative enough to come up with a story like that, but it's not nearly as rare as the situation you describe. And anyway, don't worry, if I ever do get you between my paws, your predator probably wouldn't find me in time." She laughed a little at that, but it wasn't a cruel-sounding laugh, more at the simple humour at the inappropriate use of "don't worry" than at his expense. "So, please, ask away."

The bunny frowned. He wasn't exactly surprised, just a little disappointed. "I. . . I. . . u-understand. . ." he'd answer back sadly. An ear twitched. To add to the huntresses feeling of comfort, Jack provided a short cringe and tiny whimper. 'Wouldn't find me in time', that wasn't a good thought for the lapin, not at all. Jack sighed a long sigh. He'd sit there for a moment and think, attempting to reason something out. "O-ok. . ." he'd finally say. "D-do you. . . do you lie? P-predators. . . foxes. . . w-will trick prey." He'd pause and hesitate. "I. . . d-do not. . trust you now."

"Yes." She responded, simply and truthfully. "But I haven't lied to you yet." That, however, was a lie. "I said before, Jack, I'm not one of these predators who sees your life or death struggle as a game. What I want to do to you is bad. It's wrong. Next to that, a little lie is nothing." She smiled, feeling a little more free to be frank with him now that she no longer had the lingering possibility of talking him into her paws to hold her back.

Jack shivered faintly at the words, but. . . was strangely less fearful of that answer `than he expected. Of course, the logic stood that she could lie despite any answer. Still. . .he'd look satisfied and nod slow, if even for his own assurances. "Ok. . ." he'd answer, placing words past his shakes, "I. . . a-ask. . . b-because if you I-lied. . . t-to my q-questions. . . there. . . is n-no reason. . . to ask. . ." He'd speak his reason simply, perhaps for himself to understand it. The bunny paused again, and reflected on the vixen's words. "I. . . d-don't think it is w-wrong. . . f-for you to. . . h-hunt." he'd say softly. "Y-you. . . n-need to eat. . . I. . . d-don't. . . blame you."

Paige gave a little nod, even though the rabbit would most likely not be able to see it, beyond a slight shifting in the shadow she cast down into his hidey-hole. "Well, bunny, despite what you may have heard about my species, there are foxes you can trust. I just don't happen to be one of them." There was a smile evident in her voice, her words sounding playful. "But I won't lie for no reason. And you already know what I want from you, so it's unlikely you'd ask me anything that I'd benefit from misleading you over." She paused for a second, then finished "But if you do, I'll be sure not to tell you!" She giggled at that, her laugh as light and sweet as the rest of her.

The direct statement of not trusting her, would be met with a tilted head. It confused him, but the words that followed would seem to make sense. They. . . were convincing, gave him reason to not doubt her; provided reassurance and even comfort. Then would come her laughter and admission to deceive him when presented opprotunity, and he'd find himself shaken once more. . . a soft whimper sounding.

"And really," She went on, her tone returning to that familiar purring syrup "You're a sweet little thing to think so kindly of me. But I'm a smart girl. And all of you bunnies die eventually, with or without my help. If I really wanted to, I could get by without killing anybody. But honestly, nothing makes me as happy as what I do to little sweethearts like you, Jack..." She trailed off with a light, happy sigh.

Jack would take long deep breaths, reminding himself that he was safe. The words of death, killing, and. . . her contentment with both. . . oooh it made him want to run, to dig, to just get away! And yet, there was no where to run, he couldn't dig deeper. . . and he had to remain as he was. He'd go quiet for a time, perhaps wondering if the fox deserved to be thought badly of. She didn't kill only for food. . . she didn't have to. . . she just. . . liked hurting others, and. . . wanted to hurt him. Shouldn't such a creature, be judged? Deserving of any unkind word spoken or thought of her? The rabbit would raise his head timidly, "I. . ." he'd swallow hard and settle his nerves, "It's. . . just your nature. . . to. . . want to hurt me. I. . . I still don't blame you. . . for following it." Jack would nod, evidently incapable of thinking a single ill thought, even if deserved.

There was no impatience from Paige as her potential meal hesitated. Despite how tantalising and potentially frustrating this situation was, for the moment the vixen was content to drink in his scent and enjoy the moment. When he eventually rendered his judgement, her response was almost dismissive. "Well, then my nature is bad, isn't it?" She said, though it sounded less like a question and more like an agreement to disagree. "Don't worry though, Jack, you may not blame me for my nature, but I'll keep thinking you're adorable for yours." Another little friendly laugh at that.

The lapin would reflect at that statement. Thinking of such topics, wasn't a common thing for him. He was a simple rabbit, not a philosopher. He'd finally nod, the kinder words spoken of his own nature, would help to ease the tension. There would be new pause, as he took a timid step forward, "If you. . . caught me. . ." He'd frown at the thought, voice softening, fearful. "would you use your claws. . . would you. . . bite me? . . ."

The vixen's eyes narrowed at that question, a little wicked delight creeping into her expression. "Oh, you do enjoy the thrill of talking to a predator, don't you? Asking questions like that!" Her tail swished behind her once more, fast enough to send a little beating noise through the air. "I have done that before. Sometimes I've had to. Sometimes... well, a little lick can be so exciting, I might just get carried away..." She exhaled heavily, enough that Jack would feel the tail-end of her breath on his fur. "But other than that, no, I'd try not to. That feeling... having you inside there... just completely helpless and hopeless and mine... mmm, that's what I love, Jack. So much more than using my teeth. Can you imagine it? Being surrounded by me like that. You could probably hear my heartbeat drumming in your ears, and I could feel every little movement you make. Don't you think that's so... intimate?"

Paige's initial assessment would be met with confusion. He'd consider the reason for his question, and why. . . he felt brave enough to even ask. As she answered, the lapin would feel the topic. . . bearable at best, and the statement of 'trying' was more than he had expected. He wouldn't regret asking in hearing that, at least, not until she went on. Jack would wince. He would wonder if that scenario was any better. It. . . sounded terrifying: At least, the way she described the situation. . . and how much she seemed to enjoy it. Soft whimpers alone would provide the answer to the vixen's question. He'd gather himself, slowly, to speak. "I. . . d-don't. . ." Jack looked down. "I've. . . t-talked to a predator before. . ." he'd reply. "I. . . asked them the same. . ." His muzzle would gently lift, "She. . . only did. . . if. . . they asked. . ." The rabbit would sigh, unsure of himself, "I. . . still don't think. . . I'd want to be bitten. . . or cut."

"Really?" A note of surprised interest entered Paige's voice, genuine curiosity beyond the lazy entertainment of their previous conversation. "This isn't the first conversation you've had with a predator? Well, maybe fate is smiling on your sweet little nature." She paused for a beat. "Although, that didn't help the last few hundred nice guys I've met..." She snickered there, once again sounding more like she was laughing with poor Jack than at him. She also chose that moment to steal a glance into the hole. She couldn't see well past the shadow her own head was casting, and it was unlikely Jack would be foolish enough to come into reach, but her predatory instinct still wanted to keep abreast of where he was and how tense or relaxed he seemed.

"No. . ." he'd answer, thinking on it, "I've had. . . lots of them." Aware his location was being surveyed, the rabbit would stand just a few short hops away from the wall he had stayed before. "M-maybe. . ." he'd comment at proposed reason he was still alive. His breathing, would show he was still nervous at the least; not fully terrified for the moment, but not at all fully relaxed. The mention of the 'hundreds of others' would bring a small spike of fear to the air, rising up to meet the source of it. "I. . . the f-first few times. . . the predator. . . just wasn't hungry. . ." he'd sigh, "After that. . . it was. . . b-because of my friend. . ."

Paige enjoyed the scent of fear. Well, it reminded her of those hundreds of others. But at the moment, this rather intriguing turn the conversation had taken was at the forefront of her mind. He could well have been winding his way back to that earlier claim about "belonging" to another predator, of course, but he didn't really seem sly or dishonest enough for that, so for now the vixen chose to take him on face value. "Mmm, lucky lucky." She murmured, half to herself. "Not every predator would let a cute little thing like you go just because they weren't hungry" She declined to mention whether or not that included her, though by now Jack might be able to guess.

At the mention of a friend, though, she leaned further forward, a motion that might seem a little threatening to the cowering rabbit, though in this case it really was just simple curiosity. "Your friend?"

The rabbit would nod, "I know. . ." he'd reply back a little sadly. It had been that reason he was so surprised he was ever let free before. The movement above. . . he'd take a step back, almost reflexively, as if by instinct alone. He'd then ease his head forward. "Y-yes. . . a mouse. . ." he'd answer. "She helped me. And. . . s-showed me to her friend Jaabir. He likes me too now. . . they. . . k-keep me safe. Keep. . . others from hurting me." He'd think on that. "Tarik helps too. . ."

A mouse. And Jaabir. And Tarik. For a moment, wild impulses shot through the vixen's head, half-formed thoughts of how many of these strangers she knew only by name might end inside her belly. Then she recalled that, according to the rabbit's story, at least one of those might be a predator. Probably, she reflected with a brief smile, not the mouse. Although Jaabir and Tarik both sounded like male names, so either this sweet little fluffball was so timid that he did indeed refer to his murine friend as a predator, or there was a fifth character in this bizarre sounding little grouping.

These thoughts flashed through Paige's head in an instant- foxes may be known for their cunning, but it's really the agility of their minds which is such a distinguishing feature of their species. "What a very strange story, Jack." The curiosity in her voice was evident, but her words somewhat noncommittal. It really was strange, so much so that her mind was running down various different avenues of possibilities as she spoke to him, trying to feel out one which made more sense than whatever exactly it was he was claiming. For the moment, even thoughts of eating him had taken a back seat. "But I'm afraid I really don't understand at all..."

The rabbit would blink at that, maybe he should explain more? "S-sorry. . ." He'd think for a moment. "I s-stay with them. . . Sometimes." he'd begin, "I can't be with them right now. . ." There would be a sigh, "not when Jaabir is hungry. Lichthia. . . my mouse friend. . . s-she can stay longer. . ." He'd pause "Tarik is a rat. . . and left to a colony. But still visits."

Ah, so Jaabir was the predator. Well, a predator. As soon as Paige realised that, something else clicked: of course, if she assumed it was true he knew one predator, it wasn't really that far-fetched that he knew several, through that first one. She tilted her head a little and continued to listen, a soft little hunger pang going almost unnoticed as he spoke.

Jack leaned nearer, gaining confidence. "Lichthia has another friend. . . and Jaabir has one too. She knows Morathi. . . a. . . " He'd wince. "A really big owl. . . and he knows Tabatha, a cat. . . the one I talked with before. . ." He'd look up toward the hole, "a-about the claws. . ." he'd remind. "Lichthia got the owl to not h-hurt me. And. . ." he'd continue with little certainty, "Tabatha. . . wouldn't hurt me either. . . I think." There would be silence for a time, as Jack considered any details he might have left out, "Oh. . ." he'd add, "Jaabir is. . . a snake."

There was silence after Jack finished speaking. Somehow the most convincing part was the names. She very much doubted that a rabbit named Jack came from a colony which would bestow names like "Jaabir" or "Morathi", and it seemed equally unlikely that the lapine was making them up on the spot. "I see." She said, at length. "And I suppose at some point Morathi or Jaabir or Tabatha somehow became... what, friends? with Lichtia or Tarik or yourself and the rest just fell into place?" There was still an obvious note of doubt in her voice.

Jack would shake his head, "Morathi. . ." there would be some nervousness as he mentioned the owl, "is only friends with. . . Lichthia. They talk together. . . and. . . train. She got him to not hunt me." The lapine would have to take a breath. He was tired before from the chase, but now all this talking, it was wearing at him.

"Tabatha. . . she's just friends with Jaabir. . . they hunt together. She only promised not to eat Lichthia. . . but. . . she let me go before." He'd sigh, briefly thinking back to that instance he was pinned beneath the feline. "She caught Tarik once, but he was h-helping Jaabir. . . so she let him go too."

"Tarik was warning his colony to not hunt me or Lichthia, Jaabir let him do that. . . instead of e-eating him." The rabbit would attempt to recall that story, scratching his head a bit. "Tarik tried to catch Lichthia. . . she. . . hit him with her stick. . . and took him to Jaabir. He. . . w-wasn't happy, but he likes Tarik now. . . and. . . the four of us. . . are friends." The rabbit would finish his tale, tired eyes drooping.

Another long pause from the fox's end. She was scrutinizing the hole as if the dark little crevice itself might provide some insight into the truth of the rabbit's words. "What a very, very strange story." She repeated, finally. It sounded too fantastic to be true, but she had to admit that its lynchpin- of a predator and prey becoming friends- was not completely outside the realm of possibility. After all, wasn't it she herself who took such malevolent delight in the thought that prey were people too?

"I would so like to hear more about these friends of yours, but it's unlikely you're about to hop out of that hole of yours and show me to them, isn't it?" A bit of that dangerous warmth had returned to her voice, as her mind, tired of uselessly turning over the truth of the strange tale, had returned to a simpler urge: food. She had begun this conversation hungry, and with every moment that she drank in the rabbit's scent, that urge had strengthened. With each moment, that void within her had grown and grown, and become more and more Jack-shaped. "Mmm, poor bunny, you sound tired. I understand this must be trying for you. But it's okay. Unless you have anything else you want to ask a vixen, there's just one more thing I want to try, and then I'll be on my way."

The base of his ear's lifting, the little rabbit would pipe up, "I. . . I won't. . . l-leave" He'd even scoot back from where he stood to demonstrate his lack of interest in doing so. At her final offer he would attempt to think, to reason out another question. . . or. . . even find desire to. But. . . he. . . just lacked the energy. The thought of the vixen leaving. . . he wanted that to happen, it gave him comfort. "Ok. .. " he'd answer back quietly. "I. . . I don't have anything else to ask. . ." Jack would stop and tilt his head, "w-what. . . is that?" he'd question.

"I understand, bunny. It's certainly been an interesting talk." She said, voice as sugar-sweet as always. Her finger traced a little circle in the dirt as she peered in at him, twirling round a few times to score the shape into the dry soil before flicking playfully forward, sending a light spray down in the rabbit's direction. "It's nothing very exciting, I'm afraid." She continued, her smile broadening, as she started tracing a new shape- little twirls and spirals among the earth and crumbling rock. "But it would be silly for me to leave without at least trying."

With a motion as sudden as if she were pouncing on him, her hand dug into the rocky earth. The hard stone that prevented her from digging into the hole was impenetrable, but the thin layer of gravelly ground on top of it was as easy to move as sand. Sweeping her arm in an arc, she sent puffs of the dry dirt billowing into the air like smoke, but most of it was instead shoved into the little hole Jack was hiding in. He barely had time to react before a second sweep- she was wasting no time, using her entire arms to rake any loose earth around the hole into it. "What do you think, Jack? Is this going to work?" She asked playfully.

Jack would be leaning forward part-way, sleepily taking in the new words. "H-huh?" He'd question, then. . . he'd jump back, whimpering out. The rabbit didn't know what was happening! He just knew it was bad. His reaction time was slow, and he'd take in big amount of dust as the dirt began pouring in, coughing and beginning to wheeze. He would stumble, attempting to force himself up and get closer to a wall. "S-s-stop. . ..!" he'd squeal loud as more and more dirt began to fill, obviously frightened. "P-p-please. . .!"

"Ohh, that sounds like a yes to me, Jack!" Paige called down. Her voice was still sweet and rather sing-song, but the excitement and physical exertion gave it a little bit of an edge. For all of her natural grace, she was going at the task like a puppy, her paws working to shovel as much dirt in to the hole as quickly as was physically possible. As dry and crumbly as it was, Jack would most likely not be able to breathe if he was entirely submerged in it. As Paige explained: "It's so frustrating not being able to dig through this rock, isn't it, bunny? Can't go down, can't stay where you are... the only way is up!" Her tail was moving rather like a puppy's too, swishing merrily in the air like a flag as she knelt in front of the rapidly-diminishing hole.

As the hole filled, the rabbit's cries would grow more shrill. "N-n-no. . .!" He could just barely make out her own words, feeling disorientated by a combination of shock, terror, and the unrelenting gravel that was piling in on top of him.Occasionally a harder rock or stone would work its way in and pelt him, causing an additional squeal. The air was thick, so thick, and it was getting difficult to even see. Breathing was hard, but manageable. . . if only just. But for how much longer? His ears would twitch to her words, barely making them out. Ooooh he was scared, tears now staining his fur, joining the dirt. "P-please. . . s-stop. . .!" he'd call again, growing ever more desperate. Would he have to leave his safety? There. . . there didn't look like another way. He. . . he was being buried. Maybe. . maybe he could stay, maybe he could get enough air to last? Tired as he was. . . and in such a state of panic, he would not be able to cling to that reason. "I. . . I'll c-come . . . s-s-stop . .!" he'd wail sadly, stumbling forward toward the opening's light. . . covered in dirt and dust. .. shaking, crying and weezing.

It was rather a beautiful day, and a grey feline wearing jeans and a t-shirt was walking barefoot through the woods, enjoying the sun. Hearing what sounded like conversation, she'd walk down a hill to where the grass stretched out flat. Her first sight would be of a bright red fox, and she'd freeze. Oh dear, a canine. No that she had anything against canines mind you, some of her best friends were canines! It's just so many of them were uncouth, and one had to approach with care. In any event this particular canine appeared to have trapped some rodent or other in a hole, and it would probably be best to leave her alone, lest she misinterpret her motives and think the cat was here to steal her supper. Not that Tabatha would ever do such a hing of course, especially to a fellow anthro who appeared to be wild. She was bout to step away when a panicked voice would reach her eyes, and her ears would twitch and her eyes would shoot open. "Jack?" she'd call out uncertainly and walk in the direction of the fox. Oh dear, she wasn't looking forward to this at all.

Paige had half expected that she'd have to fill the hole until there was no space left before she could get her hands on the rabbit. Or that he'd somehow manage to find a way out of the seemingly impossible situation- it went against every bone in her body that a rabbit down a hole of all places could be reclaimed. But no, here he was, pleading, scared and disoriented. She ignored his words then, the tip of her long vulpine tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in amusement. And then- in defiance of all of her instinctive expectation, he appeared at the entrance. Summoning a rabbit to the entrance of his hidey-hole, it was like a miracle. It would have seemed no more strange if he had levitated right out of the opening!

So focused was she on this sight that she didn't even notice Tabatha, though somewhere in the back of her mind her nose lodged a message of a feline newcomer. Female, not too close, probably not a priority for a few seconds at least. As Jack's poor, tear-stricken face appeared, the vixen snatched greedily at him, never being one to give fate an opportunity to turn against her without good reason. Even by the time she was lifting him out into the sunlight, though, her handling had become gentler. "Oh, I gotcha, yes I do, yessidoo!" She called, seemingly in utter bliss as she planted a couple of kisses between the bunny's ears. She hugged him to her chest, gripping him with both arms in a way that was soft, but firm and steady. It may not have been immediately obvious to an observer, but a close look at the way her arms were positioned to keep his mouth away from any of her flesh, and his arms with the minimum room for maneuver, suggested that this was a well-practiced grasp.

As he was snatched up, the rabbit buck would give an instinctive wail. The kind of desperate little squeal that all rabbits make. . . when they know they are caught. While other feral noises of panic were similar, this one was far more distinctive. . . hopeless."N-no. . ." Jack was completely shaken by the time the clawed paws pulled him outward. His head would lower with shut eyes, too afraid to open them. Jack would soon feel the vixen's maw come near and wince sharply. Was he being bitten? No, he wasn't sure what was happening, but only knew he wasn't being hurt, yet. He'd bring himself to open a timid set of brown eyes, but would keep them downcast.

The rabbit would squirm lightly for a brief few seconds, before going limp, sniffling. Jack himself would not realize the purpose of her hold, he wouldn't bite her or anyone else. . . even if he could: He wasn't near brave enough. "P-p-please don't. . ." he'd whisper soft, unaware of any other near.

With that done, she eased back until she was lying down, rolling a little from side to side with her prize. It was then that the earlier message from her nose finally reached the front of her mind's queue, sped on its way when her ears picked up an uncertain-sounding call. She ceased her rolling, laying almost perfectly still for a moment, before letting her head flop over to look at the approaching cat. Ah. She didn't look threatened, or protective, but the exuberance left the vixen's countenance quite quickly, and was replaced with a strangely lazy, yet alert, joy. The fox got to her feet slowly, absently scritching Jack behind one ear as she did so. "Now I don't suppose..." She said, her smile widening, though with an edge to it that had nothing to do with happiness "That your name is Tabatha, is it?"

The grey cat was caught short by the question. It was rare that anyone got the better of her or surprised her, and she didn't like it, not one bit. Nonetheless, her normal poise only failed her for a split second. She glanced over at the rabbit as she guessed the fox had learned her name from him, then smiled at the fox. "I am," she'd answer, "though you have me at a disadvantage." She'd tilt her head. "Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" The cat's immaculate clothing together with the purse slung over her shoulder would mark her as a civilized furrre.

Jack would barely reason what was happening. He was too tired. . . too scared to think. The dirt-showered lapine could only reason that he was caught. For a rabbit of the wild, being caught by a predator usually meant only one thing: He was about to be eaten. That gentle hold, those scratches; it would help, though do little to comfort him. The vixen already expressed her delight in hurting others. . . and how much she wanted him. The whimpers he made now were formed into a soft stream, several quite whines. Thoughts would flash in his head: Not only would he never get a mate, or find his family. . . he'd never see his friends, and they would never know. His mind would soon wander to the same question as before, the last time he felt himself in the terrifying embrace of a fox. Would it have been better. . . if he was already taken the first time he was caught? Would it just be worse now? No sooner than that thought crept up, amidst sobbing, would a familiar voice sound along his ears. He'd sniff and strain to turn his head, but would have some difficulty. "T-t-tabatha?" he'd whisper, his eyes looking to her; sad, pleading. . . with just a faint trickle of hope. He'd calm only lightly; at least now, he reasoned. . . the others could know.

Paige smiled a little at the reaction that flickered over Tabatha's countenance, though it wasn't a smug or cruel expression. To tell the truth, the vixen was just so happy right now! Even if the cat's appearance did have all sorts of potential for... complication, the instinctive part of her brain had no idea about any of that, and was far too busy turning cartwheels for joy about being able to take this adorable, undeserving little morsel and make him utterly hers. And oh, now she had him, he smelled and looked so good! It was as if somebody had taken the intricate and complex process of balancing mood and emotion in the vixen's brain and short-circuited it, leaving euphoria, warmth, contentment and all those other wonderful feelings to just pump and pump without hindrance or restraint. At times like this, she would often look down at the poor doomed thing in her arms and wonder if they'd ever been as happy as they were making her, and how anybody could possibly look at the two of them and believe in nature's justice.

"Paige." She said, unable to match Tabatha's civilised social grace in part because she just couldn't keep that wide grin off her face, even if the corners did curl up in that dangerously saccharine way of hers. "Jack here was telling me a tale that sounded taller than those cute little ears, about snakes and owls and mice and rats and cats, weren'tcha Jack?" The vixen gave him another playful little scritch, her claw most likely actually feeling quite nice behind his ear. She giggled a little, seeming more like a child with a pet than a hunter with her quarry. Happy as she seemed, though, she gave a little sigh, and while it sounded mostly contented, there was a slightly melancholy edge to it. "I'll admit, I didn't fully understand his story. But I suppose what matters now is your relationship with this bunny, and whether you'll mind if I... melt him."

The cat did not appear to be agitated, though given her social graces, who could tell for sure what was really going on in her mind. She seemed relaxed, yet attentive. She sat down gracefully, kneeling down. "I'd rather you didn't," she admitted. She didn't respond to Jack; or even look at him; this was a matter between preds.

Despite Paige's somewhat sadistic streak towards her prey, when it came to other predators she was generally friendly and well-meaning, though there had been the odd exception. Hardly a pillar of good moral character, but in a situation like this, she would take little pleasure from lording it over somebody she'd just met. So she wasn't attempting to taunt the cat, or get her hackles up, when she looked thoughtful for a moment and then responded, "Well, I suppose actually that isn't what matters." She didn't add any more to that, turning her attention for the moment to Jack, as she began to run one hand down the back of his head, stroking him like a pet.

As the two spoke, the rabbit would begin to relax, though difficult to notice: He was still frightened, still shivering. Tabatha's lack of acknowledgement brought concern to him; until she implied she didn't want him hurt. . . by the fox at least. Maybe she would help? It gave Jack some hope, but straining his neck to see the feline. . . didn't seem to help. And so, he'd turn back, and bring his head against the vixen's chest once stroked. He didn't want to be near her, but. . . scared as he was, he took what comfort he could get.

The cat would lean back and give a small smirk. "Well you did ask. . . " she'd mutter, a little bit teasing. She certainly didn't appear to be terrified over the fate of the rabbit. "But it would be in your interest," she'd continue. "I'm a cat of my word and I pay my debts. I promise if you give up your claim on him, I'll find you another prey, at least same size." She'd sigh. "Furthermore, you will have incurred my good will. That might turn out to be useful when the winter comes, if you need blankets or some such." She'd glance over at the rabbit. "Finally, I'm not the only friend this rabbit has."

The cat would give an amused smirk, eyes lowering at a memory. "I actually caught Jack some time ago, and was prepared to eat him myself, so I rather sympathize with your position." She'd sigh. "I gave him up for the sake of a rather large python who I'm friends with. Releasing your claim on Jack would incur his gratitude I'm certain." The cat would narrow her eyes uncertainly. "Jaabir's a good fellow. . . . but I believe it would be wise to incur his favor."

Paige listened quietly to the various enticements the cat was dangling in front of her, though the voice of her appetite in her mind was less polite. "I see." She said at last, letting out a happy sigh. "That's very generous. I seem to be in the position of having two quite wonderful options, don't I?"

Sensitive as a rabbit's hearing could be, what was spoken wouldn't seem to reach Jack. Instead he'd only look to bury his muzzle deeper, as if he could get away by that alone. Even in such a state, one word would bring a reaction to him, a light raising of the head and a twitch of his left ear: 'Friend' That one word would bring more calm than even the strokes. Tabatha's reminder of catching him. . . that would reach Jack too. While such things would usually bring worry to him, fear. . . that situation didn't seem so scary to him, not anymore. Not after the last fox, not after this.

The cat would smirk at the fox's reply, and leand down casually. Her eyes would fixate on the rabbit as the fox thought. "Believe me, I know how you feel," she'd say softly. "Jack's a lovely rabbit. . . it was very difficult to let him go. . . after I had him under my claws." She'd sigh, eyes turning from the rabbit. "I suppose that's why I'm attached to him. I don't want to have given him up, just so he can be another pred's meal." She'd look at the fox now. "But life in the wild can be hard," she'd say softly. By all appearances the cat was not a denizen of the wild herself. "One never knows when one's going to need help. It's wise to make friends, and you'd be making two rather significant ones in this territory if you agree."

The vixen considered for a moment whether to list all of her doubts. That it didn't mean much for Tabatha to tell her she kept her word (Paige should know, she had told more than one of her prey the same). That while she often yearned for warmth in the winter, it was nothing compared to how she relished her independence, and besides how she usually preferred a warm body next to hers. How unlikely it was she would stumble across the python by chance, and even if she sought him out, how unlikely it seemed that it would translate into any material benefit for her. How even if this cat could produce a bigger, plumper rabbit, right now she had a craving that only Jack could fill... ah! That last one was worth vocalising. "Attached to him." She repeated, not acknowledging anything the cat had said after that. "That's a good way of putting it, because I feel the same way." She paused for a moment, closing her eyes as if tasting out her thoughts "But maybe you don't mean exactly the same thing. If... Jaabir and Morathi and all of the others" (she didn't quite recall all of their names or relationships) "Were to leave, or disappear, or just stop caring about Jack, would your attachment to him keep him safe from you? Or would it be quite the opposite?"

The cat would flash a feral smile at the question, fangs gleaming. "Oh, I'd eat him in a second if it wasn't for Jaabir," she'd answer. She'd lean back and consider. "Well. . .not a second, I'd certainly take my time, and I'd be gentle of course, I always am." She'd take a long breath, when a through crossed her mind, and she gave the fox a curious look. "Morathi?"

An easy question, which gave Paige's mind more of a chance to turn things over. Her voice sounded slightly distant as she replied "Oh, one of the names Jack mentioned. An owl." With that, a little amusement crept into her expression "You really ought to be careful or you'll have half of the forest tangled up in this grouping."

At the fox's question, Jack would raise his head a bit to listen. Tabatha's answer, however, would bring a ight droop. It wasn't especially surprising to him, given what the feline had already told him herself, even in the first time he saw her. Jack understood. . . he didn't blame her. Still, it wasn't pleasent to hear. But. . . did it matter? She was still kind to him. Gentle. And at least, for whatever the reason, wanted to help him now. He'd much rather be in her grasp, Jack decided. . . he trusted her.

At the questioning over the named owl, the rabbit would stay silent, keeping to his own thoughts: his current situation was scary enough, between a rabbit-eating fox and a rabbit-eating cat. . . he didn't want to think about giant rabbit-eating owls.

The cat grinned and tilted her head. "That thought had crossed my mind," she replied softly. Eyes would become distant as she thought. "Believe me Paige, I'm not normally the sort to argue for a prey's life. I'm very much a pred myself." She'd look the fox in the eye then. "Perhaps when this is over, and we've addressed these matters to everyone's satisfaction, you and I could go hunting together." She'd give a friendly smile. "I think I'd enjoy that."

"Perhaps." Paige said, non-committally. In a way it was a rather nice thought, but she did so enjoy hunting alone. She had had a few enjoyable experiences of bringing some prey to enjoy with another fox, but the experience of actually catching them was an exhilaration that seemed like it would be diluted by the presence of another predator. As for Jack... "I still think I'd rather eat this rabbit, though." She said, rather plainly. It was true, despite the various advantages the cat had laid out, her desire was rather overpowering at the moment. "But..." Her voice trailed. She looked down at Jack for a moment. Oh, she just couldn't help but smile looking at the dear thing! Jack's petting would cease and be replaced by the vixen's nose bumping against the top of his head as she took in a long, deep drag of his scent. Just heavenly! "Well, if you want to try to catch me a larger meal, I'd be more likely to be enticed if I could smell them, and see them. I won't make any promises though... and I'm sure you'll understand if I don't give up Jack until then."

The rabbit would seem to relax further and further. Thinking more and more now that he just might be saved. The fox. . . might let him go, and he'd be free! He could see Lichthia, Jaabir. . . maybe even Tarik (though certainly not Morathi). Things. .. would be ok, Tabatha. . . was saving him. Then, his ear twitched. He heard, Paige's 'decision', or at least her preference to the mater. Jack couldn't help but to give a tiny distressed whimper, slightly muffled with his muzzle against the fox.

The cat's eyes would narrow then as she pondered the dilemma. Slowly she'd shake her head. "That would be cruel to Jack," she'd say softly. "I'm afraid that won't do." She'd look down. " I understand you're making a sacrifice. I can find one prey for you today. And another when you're next ready to hunt." She'd look down, for the first time pensive. "I promise you won't regret it. Jaabir's a very large python." She appeared uneasy. She wasn't certain how the python would react to the death of the rabbit. She didn't want to think he'd be violent, she didn't even want to say it, but it was easily possible. "It really would be best to stay on his good side."

It would be cruel to Jack. Paige could feel everything clicking into place at those words. Ah, so Tabatha was one of those predators. The "I got you fair and square" predators. The "You lost the game whose rules I've arbitrarily decided on but adhere to as if they were laws of nature, so it's okay for me to eat you" predators. The "I devour other people alive for my own enjoyment, but I'd never dream of being cruel" predators. Not too common a breed among wild animals, but Paige had run across them occasionally. She wasn't sure which was worse- those, or the mindless, snarling, gnashing teeth type. At least the latter had a certain brutal honesty to it... although that never seemed to be worth quite so much when actually talking to them.

Assuming her judgement was correct, that was going to make any negotiation with Tabatha rather difficult. She had just said that making Jack wait for a decision was going to be cruel, and now that the words were out of her mouth, Paige assumed that the feline would be treating them like proclamations from the heavens. After all, when your philosophy of life is lashed together with baseless principles, even the slightest flexibility will set the entire structure creaking... shuddering... and eventually collapsing.

Still, it was worth a try. "Oh, now, aren't you and Jack friends?" Paige was pretty certain that word wasn't a very good description of their relationship, but that didn't matter. She held the rabbit almost protectively, as if worried that what Tabatha had just said would offend him. "You really should give him more credit. I've been talking with him, and he's one of the smartest, bravest, most earnest bunnies I've ever met." That was also a little inaccurate, as her relationship with most rabbits whose acquaintance she'd made had not usually been deep or long lasting enough for her to be able to evaluate their intelligence, courage or honesty. "He ran his little heart out when I chased him, and when I asked him why, he told me all about his hopes for the future... about how much he values his friends, about how he wants a family. Even when he was trapped, frightened, alone, he wouldn't surrender, wouldn't give up..." The vixen mostly looked down at Jack as she gave this somewhat dramatised retelling of the past little while, her charismatic voice rising and falling in soft, easy rhythms to emphasise each point. Finally, she looked up at Tabatha "Maybe you've known him longer than I have, but I don't think he's the kind of bunny who would want to give up on that future when he has a fighting chance. I don't think he'd want to let his friends, that potential family, all that time, slip away just to avoid... what, an hour? Maybe a few?... of uncertainty." She looked down at Jack again, giving him another little scritch. He rose and fell against her chest as she shrugged. "But maybe I'm wrong".

The cat's brow was slgihtly furrowed, and her tial would give a short annoyed lash, before she became aware of it and it went still. It was exceedingly rare she felt so. . . . helpless! After a pause, she'd mutter, "I'm sorry, but there are some things I will not do." Her eyes were downcast and it would not be clear who the apology was addressed to. She'd look upwards. "But my word is good, I don't break it." She'd sigh. "If I were in the habit of breaking it, I would have eaten Jack myself long ago." That was it, she reflected, it was that infernal mouse! It had been her who'd held her word against her, who always held her better nature against her! This was all her fault, the result of treating prey as though they were anything but prey!

Jack would begin to feel less and less hopeful. His head would raise, pacing a timid eye up toward the vixen. Maybe she. . . really wanted him. Maybe she wouldn't accept anyone else? And. . . the thought of two others giving up their life's for him, also filled him with a sense of sadness. He didn't want anyone hurt. Not some squirrel or other rabbit, not himself and. . . by result. . . not Lichthia. Still, he'd stay quiet, still. . . head tucked as he shivered. It helped that it was Tabatha's choice.

The words of Paige would reach the rabbit then, bringing him to lift his muzzle. . . and nuzzle very lightly in a returned gesture. Tabatha's following reply, would also help to ease him: Not so much what was said or how much weight it would carry. . . just that the words were there, and for him.

Paige couldn't help but feel a little thrill at how agitated the feline was getting. Though she didn't usually take an adversarial or nasty approach to other predators, she couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction at how this was going. She briefly considered sharing the punchline of this little exchange- that, most likely, once she got Jack back to her den with the intention of eating him she'd toy with him in a way much crueller than what Tabatha was seeking to avoid- but decided that would probably just sour things pointlessly. Outwardly, she didn't show any of this, simply nodding at Tabatha's response. "I see. Well, I try not to be too rigid, but I do have a few rules I don't break myself. And one of them is to never trust a stranger without good reason." She smiled a little sadly, though the melancholy was sitting in that dreamy satisfaction she seemed steeped in. "Sorry, Tabatha, I'm sure you wouldn't lie, but far too many times I've experienced a seemingly trustworthy person deceiving for their own gain." She neglected to add that in almost every one of those instances, that person had been her.

"Fortunately," She said, after leaving the silence hanging for a few moments "I have a solution that will make all parties happy." Except, some part of her mind added, for me. With a little effort, she suppressed it. It was true the possessive, predatory woman in her was already feeling a little preemptive heart-break at the thought of letting this wonderful, sweet, lovely meal go. But the cunning, curious, enterprising, foxy part of her knew that there were opportunities and insights in this that had to be more valuable than any one hunk of rabbit meat. Besides, she wasn't Tabatha. If the situation presented itself some time down the line, she'd go back on her word without a second's doubt. "Jack, I think that I'm right about what you'd prefer, aren't I?" She said, looking down at the nervous fuzzy bundle in her arms.

Jack would raise his head, confused, as he suddenly was given chance to speak, and taken back all the same. He. . . didn't know what to say or how to even reply. What was he saying yes to? What if he said the wrong thing? Would agreeing mean. . . he was making the choice for another's death? "I. . . I. . ." he'd mutter, shakily.

"Leave him out of it." The cat's voice would interject as the fox addressed the rabbit. Soft, yet firm, it was as close she ever came to sounding angry. Shed attempt to settle herself, sounding calm as she continued. "Please. . . ." she continued, ". . .this is between you and me."

That comment struck Paige as so bizarre that for a moment she was left wondering which of these two she had more of a gulf of perception separating her from- the cat or the rabbit. It was only a split second, though, before she continued smoothly, with a slight inclination of her head. "In that case, I have a solution that will make both parties happy," she corrected herself. "Tabatha, I understand why it's difficult for you to want to give me permission to prolong poor Jack's suspense. So, I won't ask for it." She gave another little shrug, smiling serenely. "I'm going to do what I want with my prey, which in this case happens to be holding him, quite safe and well-treated, until sunset. Then, I'll come back here, and if you happen to also be here, and happen to have brought prey this time... well, no rules broken, and the thr- two of us will be happy, right?"

The grey cat would glower, eyes cast downward. She didn't like being manipulated. It reminded her of that mouse. She'd wouldn't say a word, but would give a curt not of affirmation. She'd glance over to Jack.

Cut off in his uncertainty, Jack would take a large breath. He felt relief, he didn't want to speak and. . . didn't even feel he could. He just wanted to be. . . safe. With what the fox had said. . . hope would return. He'd force his head around, and look back to Tabatha, thankfulness in his tired eyes. . . nose twitching lightly.

The vixen's eyes narrowed slightly. She was aware she wasn't exactly making friends here, and alienating other predators hadn't been her intention, even as distasteful as she found Tabatha's attitude. "Really, it's for the best," She said, softly, her voice wafting a tenderness which was completely absent from the vixen's mind or heart "There is one more thing. I think I should tell you now, so you don't feel like I was holding back. I think you said before you'd eat Jack if Jaabir were ever gone. Well, if I give him up, my condition would be that you add me to that- you'd only ever eat Jack if Jaabir and myself were both gone."

Tabatha seemed ready to go, but halted at the follow up and listened silently. She'd give a short nod. She'd turn her head and focus eyes with the vixen. "And we only do this once?" she/d ask, though it barely sounded like question. "Once this is done. . . " she'd spit the words, as though they were distasteful to her, "each of us releases are claim on him, while the other is alive?"

Paige had done a lot of talking today, a considerable amount to potential prey. And she'd told a few little lies, sure, sprinkled a few deceptions or omissions, but really, she hadn't said anything important, anything that really mattered, that wasn't true. And so when Tabatha asked her question, the vixen felt it was high time for that to change. "Yes, exactly." She said, rather than telling the feline that she actually had a much more one-sided arrangement in mind. Really, it was unlikely to even come up, so perhaps it wasn't that much of a lie after all.

The rabbit would listen close. The repeated agreements over his life. . . it was hard for him to take in or even understand. Even so, it gave new hope with every mention. It was more hope than he had when caught by the last fox, more than he had with this one. . . before Tabatha arrived. Soft brown eyes to tabby, he'd slowly open his muzzle and mouth the words 'thank you'.

The feline would give a curt nod. Eyes would catch those of the rabbits and her expression would soften. "Good," she said softly. Without another word, she'd turn and stalk soundlessly into the forest.

Paige waited until the cat was out of sight and earshot, still petting Jack softly. Then, she looked down to him, smiling benignly. "Well, now Jack, did you hear that? You're safe now." She knew he had, he felt and smelled far more relaxed in her arms. She wondered about what was going through the little lapine's head- was he even aware that it had been her who had been arguing for his last chance? Still, there were more immediate matters at hand. "And since you look like such a drowsy little thing, that means that not only am I not dangerous, I'm also now the softest, warmest, fuzziest bed you've ever had!" She exclaimed with a clownish laugh, sounding like she was talking to a child. She chuckled, petting him lightly, and giving him a little wink if he happened to be making eye contact. "No, I'm just joking, but really if you wouldn't find it scary I think you'd find a doze in my arms very comfy. If not, we can just pop you back in that hole and you can settle down there instead." Her words were slightly unnatural in how upbeat they were, and she really did sound like somebody emphasising their cheerfulness for a child. Inwardly, she wondered if Jack was, by this point, too mentally drained for even this sort of decision.

Even as the grey feline went on her way, Jack's eyes would not leave her. It was hard to strain his neck with how he was held, but he that would not deter him. When vanished into brush, he'd sniff quietly and look back, head lifting with downcast eyes. The repeated word of 'safe', how it was said so absolutely, that would bring a small blink. . . wondering if he in-fact did not hear. Still, given what he knew of the cat's hunting the doubt was little. He would almost feel more tired than afraid. . . but not by much. This vixen which held him, she. . . lies and told him so herself. Unless. . . that was a lie. . . which would still mean she lied but. . . the rabbit shook his head, such thoughts too much for him to manage even when in a calm state. An ear lifting as Paige continued, the tone feeling strange. . . though pleasant. Still looking away, his head would tilt, and slowly level. "I. . ." his voice was dry now, scratchy, all those whimpers and whines taking their toll. The lapine would swallow hard and try again, "I. . ." his eyes would move then to the hole, the haven of safety which stalled his capture. . . a haven. . . that was filled with hard rocky soil. He felt no more safety in that hole, not anymore. "O-ok. . ." he'd finally answer, head turning away and burying deep into his captor.