The forest was old.
Ancient, even. The kind of quiet that made the world forget time. Trees towered like silent watchers, their gnarled limbs twisting into the sky as though trying to touch the stars. Moss grew thick over roots and rocks, and the damp earth smelled of rain even when the sky was dry. Light barely trickled through the thick canopy—just enough to create long, trembling shadows.
And tonight…
Tonight, the forest was uneasy.
Something had disturbed it. Something small. Fast. Terrified.
A blur moved between the trees. Clumsy, panicked, too loud for something that wanted to disappear. Leaves rustled violently in its wake. Twigs snapped under trembling feet. A flash of pale skin, a streak of white fur—gone again behind the underbrush.
It was a creature not born of this forest, but now buried deep within it.
He ran until his legs gave out.
And then he crawled.
His breathing was sharp, desperate. Not from the cold, but from the memory of it. Of hands that weren’t kind. Of voices that spoke in clipped commands. Of a room that buzzed with machines and never let the sun inside.
He didn’t know how long it had been since he escaped.
Hours? A day? The moon had risen high now, casting silver blades through the trees. But he didn’t look up. He didn’t care. His small body was scraped raw from thorns, soft bare feet caked in mud and blood. His hoodie—stolen, oversized, ragged—clung to his thin frame like a second skin. It used to smell like someone safe. Now it smelled like sweat and fear.
His ears twitched violently with every sound.
Rustle.
Snap.
Howl.
He pressed himself into the hollow of a fallen tree, chest rising and falling too fast, his soft white tail trembling. His arms wrapped tight around his knees as he tucked them to his chest, curling inward like he could make himself invisible.
He was a bunny. A hybrid. A mistake, they said.
Too soft. Too small. Too quiet.
But tonight, he had run. He had disobeyed. He had bitten. He had broken the rules. And now, he was alone.
He didn’t know where he was.
He didn’t know what would happen next.
But the forest was better than the cages.
It smelled of old things. Of roots and rot. Of freedom, even if it was cold.
He shivered violently as wind kissed his cheeks, and he bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. But he made no sound. Not a sob. Not a whimper. If they heard him, they'd take him back.
Don’t make noise. Don’t be found.
That’s what he learned.
