Page 5 of Blacktail

“I should think you would be more concerned with your own problems, morsel.”

The rabbit smiled faintly. “Forgive me, lord, but I rather think that you being here is my problem.”

Hate sighed. He’d hoped for some begging. “Very well, then. I shall eat you soon—I won’t lie to you about that—but the eating can either be quick and merciful or…well. As you say, you know who I am.”

“What can I do for you, lord? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

“I need information,” Hate said. “Some nights ago there were sounds. Gunshots. What happened?”

“Shungots? What? I don’t know that word.”

“The death stick of the two-legs, you idiot bumpkin,” Hate said, not un-cheerily. “Who did it kill?”

“Oh. That thing.” The rabbit seemed to deflate beneath his claws. “I begin to understand. It was the wolf White-Eye and her puppies.” When the rabbit said White-Eye’s name, force of long habit compelled Hate to avert his eyes. It was only for a moment, but the rabbit saw him. He twitched his ears. “Hmm.” It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it might have been amusement. “White-Eye was above even you, wasn’t she?”

Hate blinked. Is the little twerp making fun of me? Me?

“I rather like that,” the rabbit said. “Yes I do. White-Eye stood above even Hate the Terrible. It seems we have something in common after all. Who’d have thought?”

Smart-ass. Hate fought down the urge to rip out the rabbit’s guts. A quick death might have been the point. Instead, he flexed his foreclaws into the rabbit’s chest—deep, this time, past the bone and into the meat of it. The little beast screamed and pumped his legs, all his laughter gone. That was good, yes…but then, deep in the underbrush, came an answering scream. The female. Hate’s tail swished. The scream was better.

“Is she your mate?” Hate peered into the snow-crusted underbrush. The female’s wide red eyes stared back at him. He made a show of licking his fangs. “Your one true lovey-love? Hmm?”

The rabbit in the woods moaned again. Yes. She loves him, all right. Hate winked in her direction.

“Well, you’re right,” he said. “No use denying it. White-Eye was indeed above me. You and I do have that in common.” He licked the bunny down the length of his trembling body, tasted the blood of his lungs, his liver. Another moan from the woods, tastier even than the blood. “I suppose that makes us friends, doesn’t it?”

When the rabbit answered, the insolent dance was gone from his voice. “Yes, lord.” He coughed a fine spray of blood into Hate’s face. His eyes stared into the middle distance, focused on something Hate could not see. “Good friends.”

“Excellent,” Hate said, drawing back a little. “Simply excellent!” He took a bit of pressure off the rabbit’s ribs. A bloody bubble inflated around one of the puncture wounds. “Tell me, my new friend, did any of her litter survive?”

The rabbit sucked in a tiny lungful of air. “Only…one, lord,” he gasped. “The big one. The male.”

“Big, you say? How big?”

“It is”—gasp—“difficult for me to say, lord. You all look”—gasp—“much the same from down here.”

“Perhaps we do,” Hate allowed. “But—as a favor to me—would you venture a guess? Is the pup my size, do you think? This half-grown mongrel?”

At first the rabbit did not seem to hear. His eyes were fixed, staring. His chest heaved.

Hate popped the bloody bubble, plugged the puncture with his claw. Not too hard, though. The rabbit was already deader than he would have liked.

“What?” he said. “Oh. You. No, lord. Not so large as you. I do not think so.” He coughed up another small spray of blood. “Not yet, at any rate.”

Hate swished his tail. If not yet, then not ever. “Very well.” He moved in close. The rabbit closed his eyes. “Oh, wait—one more thing. White-Eye is dead. Save this one pup, her litter is dead. What of the father?”

The rabbit opened his eyes at this, and Hate thought the look in them was strange. “No one knows, lord. We never saw him.”

Hate’s brow furrowed. With so many eyes on such a small mountain, that was…a little odd. More than a little. Something about this troubled him. Hate recalled his own father, delirious, dying by the side of the road.

“Use me as You see fit.”

Hate snapped back into the moment. Somewhere overhead, the sun tore through its veil of cloud. The new day was upon them at last. “What?” Hate snarled. He leaned close to the dying rabbit. “What did you say?”

The rabbit didn’t flinch. He knew he was dying. Pain held no more dominion over him. “I”—cough—“said…is this to…to…to be the way of it? We are…delivered from the jaws of”—cough—“White-Eye only to…fall under the claw of Hate?” He looked up at Hate, pleading. “Is that all there is? Is there nothing more?”

Hate leaned in, honestly curious. “Does that seem wrong to you?”