Werebunnies! by Feath MacKirin "It's not like I'm hero material." Iriand joined his friend at the table. "For God's sake, I'm afraid of crickets. Now, how many hero's do you know who are afraid of crickets? Don't answer that: none! That's how many." "Brin is afraid of tigers." Aleny encouraged with her usual good cheer. Iriand gave her a level look. "Well, okay. So there is a small difference. I'm just saying, everyone has a fear." "What's yours then?" "Don't have one," She lied looking him in the eye. Iriand growled in response. "Look, it won't be that hard. Not with our talents." She signalled the waitress and ordered two Old Maids. "But I'm not hero material!" "Sure you are -- do you remember when we were young? Who was it that was always guarding the weaker ones? Who was it who could sniff out trouble faster than Brin?" Iriand took his mug from the waitress and swigged down some of the buttermilk. "It was me... but...Aleny, that was before -- before -- " "The pit," Aleny said for him. Iriand whimpered and curled his shoulders in. "Stop that!" she smacked him on the nose. "Get a grip, for God's sake. You're older now. The King has long forgotten you." They were both quiet as they thought of the King. "Maybe." She drank some of her buttermilk, then continued. "Brin says he needs the Crystal Pip. That with it he can free all the people in the dungeons. All we need to do is sneak into the Kings treasure room, find the pip, take it to Brin, who works his magic, and *poof!* our parents and friends are out of that pit and back home, where they should be." "Will there be crickets there?" "No! I'm sure there won't be." She drank more of her buttermilk, watching the swirling foam as she tipped the mug farther and farther back. She banged the mug on the scarred wooden table when she was done. "Okay, then. So long as there are no crickets, I'll do it." "That's my love bunny." # Fraz II, His Highness, Duke of Forrest, Duke of Lake Froth, Earl of Glade, Earl of Cliffe, Monitor of the Pure, Protector of the Realm, Practitioner of the Black Arts and Sciences, Father of 35 Princes and no living Princesses, best known as 'Crazy Fraz' to his enemies and 'His Wonderfulness *spit!*' to the peasantry, scratched his ass and settled back into the saddle once more. On his fist settled the falcon, Flight, who gazed out at the beaters with a haughty and hungry stare. "There, sire!" said one of said beaters, pointing into a clearing. "Werebunnies, for sure!" Fraz tossed the falcon into the air. Flight screamed, beating heavy wings for altitude. Circling, she sectioned off the clearing, looking for the slightest movement. With an audible snap, she tucked her wings back, put her beak down, and now a streamlined feathered dart, she plummeted earthward. At the last second, she pulled up, and reached out with her talons. But just as she grabbed the neck of the bunny, it changed. Swelling large, in misshapen lumps, it quickly changed its form to that of a man, who turned on the falcon with a knife in his hand. He stabbed at the falcon, who screamed and flew back up into the heavens. The werebunny looked around, but his cover was blown. He was encircled by the Kings Men. "Dare the kings you eat grass!" Fraz spit out, kicking his horse to step forward. He ground his teeth at the werebunnies look of confusion. "You... dare... eat... the... Kings... grass!" He repeated himself carefully. "It's just grass, free for all to eat." The werebunny swept his hand out, indicating the vast expanses of grassy plains. "Grass the mine is. ... The grass is mine. Away to take him the dungeon!" The guards, well able to interpret his decree, grabbed the werebunny by his ears and dragged him away, protests unheeded. # "There's the castle. Now, all we have to do is get through the gate. Then into the treasure room. Once we find the Pip, we return out the same way; we should be home for dinner." "Aleny, I think it might be a bit more difficult than that." "Nonsense. Trust me. Okay, now. Who is going to be the man, and who is going to be the cover?" Iriand looked his friend up and down. "You still having that... trouble?" Aleny blushed. "Yessssss." Iriand stepped back, he made little calm down motions with his hands. "Then I will be the man." Her hiss did not diminish. # "Hold on there, mister. You're not aristocracy; what business do you have at the King's court?" The figure stepped from the harsh sunlight into the shade cast by the turret. "I am the Great Longear, Artist extraordinaire. Hired by the Prince to make his portrait." The figure threw back its great cape, but kept the hood up over his hair. "Oh, yeah?" The guard eyed the traveller warily, the other gate guard joined him. "Which Prince?" "Eh. Which Prince, you ask?" "Yes, yes, come, you must know WHICH prince has hired you." The guard pulled his sword. "Oh. His name. You want to know his name." "And right smartly, too." "Eh. Frez." The guard turned to his companion and whispered, "Is there a Frez?" The other guard scratched his head. "Um. Yeah, I think so. I kinda lost tract around the 12 th one born..." "Okay then!" The first guard said to the traveller, putting his sword away. "Move along, then!" "Right you are, right, right..." the traveller made a sketchy bow and continued into the court yard. "Whew," said the cloak. "That was a close one." Iriand grumbled and pulled the cloak closer around him. "Stick with me, now, and don't go flying off by yourself." They bounced up the landing stairs and into the main hall. "Which way?" "Up the stairs, and to the right," the cloak whispered. # The guards tossed the werebunny into the dungeon and pushed the heavy door closed with a laugh. "Enjoy your stay in the Hotel California," one chortled through the door. "What's that mean?" But the guard left without answering. The werebunny looked around, seeing several other bunnies cowering along the cold stone windowless walls. "Well, Brin, isn't this just a fine howdy do?" He asked himself. # "Will you hurry up?" hissed the cloak. "It's not working!" Iriand's hand was shaking as he attempted for the fifth time to pick the lock. The guard lying on the floor groaned. "He's going to wake up soon. Hurry up damn ya!" The cloak withered, untouched by any air current. Iriand pulled the tool from the large key hole. He bent over and put his eye to it, looking into the treasure room. "Holy Chicken! Will you look at that room?" "Let me see!" The cloak twisted and fell away from Iriand's shoulder to fall into a puddle at his feet. It pulsated and withered, to slowly take on the shape of Aleny. Iriand turned and watched her. "Eww." Iriand said, his lips pulling back. "That's disgusting." Aleny turned, and sneered, her skin falling in graceful folds to the floor. "It's a medical problem. It's not my fault. It's just a lack of elasticity. I'll pull together in a few minutes." She pushed him out of the way. "Now let me look." She put her eye to the doors key hole, holding her forehead up away from her eyes. "Will you look at all that gold? How are we going to carry... eh, find the Crystal Pip in all that massive amount of -- truly, lovely gold?" "Even more important, how are we going to get in?" Iriand turned from hitting the guard over the head again. "I think ... hold on, what's that?" "What's what?" "What's that dark, waving mass moving on the floor?" "Huh? Let me see," He pushed hard enough that she scooted out of the way. He stuck his eye back to the key hole. "Oh. My. God. It's. Crickets!." His voice grew in volume to end on a high pitched shriek. # The King finished tugging his hose seam straight and checked it in the mirror. Suddenly his head snapped up, then twisted to the side. "What was that?" # "Just calm down," Aleny said, stroking his hair back out of his face. "It's just crickets. Little bitty insects. They don't bite. They don't do anything but make noise. Harmless." "C-c-c-crik-k-k-k...c-c-c-crrrrr..." "Oh for God's sake! Look, the door isn't opening. But look how big the key hole is. All you have to do is make yourself small, go into the lock, pick it and I will open the door. You don't even have to go in. Now snap out of it!" she said, slapping him across the rump. He looked up at her with big puppy eyes. "Aleny, it's crickets," He snivelled in a small voice. "Yes, dear. Make yourself small... Do it now, Iriand." "Like what?" "Worm? Snail? Crick-eh. Fly?" "Fly. Yes, I can do a fly." "Do it then!" Iriand concentrated, then slowly condensed, smaller and smaller, until within moments he was fly shaped. He couldn't actually fly -- he could if he practised -- but there was no time for that. Aleny picked him up and placed him by the key hole. Iriand marched into the key hole, and looked at the tumblers. He froze. Foot steps sounded down the hall. # The King viciously kicked the lumbering guard. "Job on the Sleeping! Put this man in with the werebunnies, lets see how long he will sleep there. Wait!" he removed the exceptional cloak that covered the sleeping guard. "This is too fine for the likes of him." He put the cloak on and ran a hand over the material. Turning, he tripped on the edge of the cloak, and bumped into the treasure room door. He didn't notice the small fly that fell out of the key hole, and into the room. Nor did he hear the tiny, high pitched scream. He strode back to his quarters, forgetting to set a new guard. # "I tells you, I've been a guard for the King for twenty years, and I've seen everything." The guard leaned against the castle gates with his co worker, picking yesterdays dinner from between his molars. They both turned at the sound of an approaching scream. They saw a man, covered in crickets from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, running as if Satan was hot on his heals. From the man issued forth the most hideous, continuous scream of terror. Crickets fell from him in an inexhaustible supply, and he made little hop skippy jumps, turning as he ran, trying to dislodge his little cricket fiends. He ran out of the gate, and out into the plains surrounding the castle, the scream continuing without pause. "That happens at least once a month." "Cor! " # "Bring us our newest werebunny prisoner." The King commanded, sitting back on his throne. He stroked his new cloak, admiring its butter soft texture. He heard a small growl, and checked the dog that slumbered at his feet. The dog must be dreaming, and the King laughed lightly. The prisoner was brought before him. "What do you have to say for yourself, werebunny? Do you confess to eating the Kings grass?" "That grass if free for all!" "Head with his off!" "What?" "Off... with... his... head!" # The king yawned, and settled in for his afternoon nap. His rage of the day had tired him out. The new cloak was placed over him, to keep him warm. He pulled it up around his neck and fell asleep. He never noticed when the cloak got tighter... and tighter, fitting over his face snuggly. The King passed quietly in the night, a 'Night Breath Syndrome' his doctors would decree. In other words: he stopped breathing. # "And walking blankets, sor? You seen walking blankets?" "Don't be daft, man. No such --" "First time for everything!" Aleny said letting herself out the gate. "Cor!" # "With Brin missing, we need to go back and ..." "Who said Brin was missing?" A voice intruded. "Brin!" Aleny leap to her feet and hugged the werebunny. "How did you get away?" "Turned myself into a louse and just sat in the guards hair until he left the castle. Did you get the crystal pip?" Iriand held out his palm, the small crystal reviled. "Excellent! Lets get to work, shall we? We have a few hundred people to rescue from the Kings dungeons." "You realise, Iriand," Aleny said, "this makes you a hero." Iriand smiled. "Don't you have something to say about that?" Iriand shook his head and mouthed the word: laryngitis. Aleny laughed, then ducked when Iriand swung a fist at her.