Chapter Text
Lucy, looking rather grim, came home from school. Her eyes were distant, staring past the walls of the house, her bag slung over only one of her shoulders.
Rabbit hadn’t noticed. Too preoccupied changing Peter’s diaper. Thankfully, he was being cooperative, quite invested in slobbering his mouth all over the toy block he’s got in his hands. Emily and Peter had been playing with the alphabet blocks all afternoon, building contraptions and gizmos they wouldn’t be able to explain to Rabbit what they were. And then knocking them over, throwing them everywhere, and starting all over again when he finally cleaned up the mess and put them back into the playpen.
“Hi Lucy how was school-” He asked on autopilot, ripping open the nappy packaging with his hands and quickly tucking it over Peter’s bottom.
“Biology,” Lucy mumbled, her voice rather dim.
“That's what it was for science today?” Rabbit asked mindlessly, making sure Peter was securely in before securing the tabs. There. A nice, clean baby.
“We dissected a fish.” Her voice was quiet, barely audible. He had to ask for clarification.
“What about a huh?” Rabbit only leaned his head in her direction, his ear perked up to hear her better.
“Oh it was horrible!” She finally wailed, and he quickly had to pull back his ear, flattening it against his head. “Mrs Otter brought in a tub full of fish! And we had to dissect them!”
Still holding Peter, Rabbit finally turned to Lucy, his eyes finding her sulking at the dining table, bag still over her shoulder where she half sat in the chair.
“It was disgusting, and totally wrong. I just had to let Simon do it. I couldn’t even watch!” She sunk her head in her hands, covering her face. “And he kept going on and on about how he and his dad went fishing by the creek the other day.”
Lucy was in distress, Rabbit finally noted, finally putting Peter down on the ground to crawl back to Emily, where she had been diligently building another tower.
“Do you want a muffin? I baked them earlier today,” he attempted, reaching for the fridge and pulling the door open, “Might make you feel better.”
“No,” Lucy bemoaned, just as he pushed aside a bag of tomatoes, reaching for the plastic box of baked goods. “I haven’t been able to stomach anything since lunch!” Oh, that's definitely not good.
“I hate to break it to you, Lucy, but there are a lot of animals around here who eat fish,” Rabbit attempted again, though it probably wasn’t the right move.
Fish, like insects, weren’t sentient like other animals. They couldn’t walk, and they couldn’t talk, and they were one of the many reasons why several predator species haven’t turned on prey that do. The consumption of them was, quite frankly, integral to the fragile ecosystem. Or really, the sanity of predators. Who, despite not making up the majority of the population, there’s enough of them to eradicate every single prey in their vicinity if their hunting instincts were not satisfied.
Well. Except for Wolf. Wolf seems to be pretty useless. Fox? Well...
“That doesn’t mean they don’t feel pain! Nociceptors- Mrs Otter taught us when we were cutting out the liver!” Lucy retorted, “It doesn't mean they don’t have feelings either- if you asked a fish if they wanted to be dissected or killed to be eaten, they’d say no!”
“But they can’t.” They’re not capable of saying no to being eaten.
“So that’s the only excuse then?” Lucy scoffed, “they’re not able to- to fight back, and that's why animals think they have the right to eat them?”
It was… a little past three in the afternoon. Lucy was always quite quick walking back from school. If he were to check the time, he would be hard pressed to see the clock’s hand over quarter past. Quite frankly, it was too early for existential questions. And also too early in the sense that Lucy was only nine. She shouldn’t be questioning these things.
Rabbit didn’t really have an answer, so he instead tried, “Are you sure you don’t want a muffin?” Lucy groaned, her eyes peaking out from the gaps between her fingers as she snapped, “No, I don't want a muffin! I can’t eat when fish are being eaten!” The box of muffins was heavy in his hands, and the chill of the open refrigerator crawled up his spine. He watched painfully as Lucy got up from the chair, slinging her bag more securely over shoulder.
“Well it’s not like you can teach a fish how to read and write,” Rabbit mused weakly, adding a little laugh. “Lucy,” he tried, calling after her, “I know you’re upset, but-” it’s just the way of the world.
He’d lost her, he realised as he cut himself short, watching her slog up the stairs to her room.
“I thought you’d get it, but you’re not bothered at all!” Lucy exclaimed, “You get chased by Fox and Wolf all the time!”
Rabbit hastily shut the fridge’s door, setting the muffins on the table before hurrying after her with newfound purpose. “Oh now that's different.” He shook his head, tailing after her footsteps as he added, “they never catch me.”
Especially since Fox got the help, Rabbit can hardly take their traps seriously anymore. Either their plans had become so predictable he’d be able to evade them with his eyes closed, or something absurd would happen just in the nick of time that’ll work in his favour. And he didn’t even need lady luck on his side, he was more than agile and smart enough to out-maneuver those idiots. He wasn’t the Cabbage King for nothing.
“I wouldn’t have a dad anymore if you couldn’t. You’re only still here because you can run away! Is that the only thing that makes you and me different from a fish?”
At the base of the steps, Rabbit stopped. His hand on the railing, his feet hovering over the first step. Above him, Lucy kept talking.
“-nd so what about all the fish families? They’re probably upset that their fish mums and dads have been cut up by my classmates! Eaten by Mr and Mrs Otter and- and Simon and Barry and Mr Wolf- and- and- It’s just not right-!”
But he wasn’t listening, no, not above the ringing in his ears, his heart beating against his chest. He could only watch as Lucy exclaimed a few more things as she scurried off into her room. The sound of a door creaking open and closing was silence’s signal to return.
When he could finally think, however long that took, his first thought was that Lucy hadn’t eaten since lunch. Even if she couldn’t stomach anything, she must be hungry. Or, will be soon. He’ll have to cook extra for dinner tonight.
Still, he turned to look at the muffins sitting on the counter, waiting patiently to be consumed.
On his way back to the kitchen, he checked up on Emily and Peter. Both of them, finally bored of the blocks, were now looking through their little tiny kiddy bookshelf, pulling out books, and flipping through them. Admiring the pretty colours and not so much reading them. They’ll both be due for a nap soon.
He took out one muffin for now, setting it on a small plate. Then, after collecting himself, he walked up the stairs, plate in his hands, and carefully knocked on Lucy’s door.
“You’ll be hungry soon,” he said, hoping she can hear him. “Are you sure you don’t want a muffin?” When there was no immediate reply, he sighed, staring at the baked goods in his hands. “What about while you attempt to eat, and you talk about your feelings?” That usually worked, letting it all be vented out. And then Lucy will realise all this fish talk is just silly once it’s all said outloud.
Seriously, he was quite concerned about her hunger. He didn’t want her to be starving by the time dinner finally came around. If she refused the muffin, then he’d just have to leave it outside her door. Maybe he should start dinner early? But what if she’s still ‘not hungry’? Dear oh dear, she better get over this quickly or he’s going to have to start spoon feeding her again.
Despite his train of thought detailing the worst case scenario, there was a rustling of noise. Immediately, Rabbit felt a wave of triumph. Yes! She was listening! He was being a great dad! Lucy will be out of the mud she’s in in no ti-
“You’re right, dad!” Lucy exclaimed as she opened the door. Her face, beaming with excitement. Of course I’m right, he thought quickly, that’s a no brainer. “I will talk about my feelings. I’m going to start a protest movement!”
Rabbit’s eyes shot wide open, his mouth agape before he even started speaking “A wha-?”
“If the fish can’t speak for themselves-” Lucy said, grabbing the plate from his hands, “Then I will be their voice!”
His daughter slammed the door in his face, leaving him stunned.
He almost wanted to ask, “say that again?” because surely, he hadn't heard her correctly. But those words of hers rang in his ears, and they were unmistakable.
“Lucy, you’re being silly-” He blurted out with an uneasy laugh.
Instead of admission, his daughter called back through the door, “I’ve got homework to do and a campaign to run! Tell me when it’s dinner time!”
Aaaand he’s lost her. Again.
He shook his head, a bit quickly, attempting to shake off the haze in his mind. At least she took the muffin? His conscience attempted to reason. At the cost of being an activist for a losing battle, a nasty thought shot back. Again, he shook his head, resigning himself to go down the stairs and hope that she will have forgotten all of this by tomorrow morning.
As much as Rabbit hates to admit it, Fox’s garden was the best. It was, for one, diligently organised, with clear defined sections for each vegetable growing for harvest (and it never changed, these sections. The tomatoes always grew in the tomato section, carrots with the carrots, potatoes with the potatoes, cabbages with the cabbages) with easy paths to walk through to avoid accidentally stepping on a newly situated nursery plant. It made it easy to steal from, that’s for sure. He is sure now, from the amount of times he’s visited, that he’d be able to steal with his eyes closed. He’s memorised every inch of the garden more than he knows the back of his hand.
And Rabbit isn’t sure if that's on purpose as one of Fox’s many methods to lure him in, or, if it was because Fox’s meticulous nature couldn’t bear the idea of a messy garden, and had carved out the paths because, heavens forbid, that Fox’ trousers get dirty because those heeled boots of his weren’t long enough.
But of course, the real highlight was the vegetables themselves. For years now, Fox had cultivated his produce to perfection, with the best fertilizer Rabbit assumes one could buy, and with a balance of pesticides sprayed on to ward off insects. Personally, Rabbit would prefer none of that bug spray, but the trade off was that not a single leaf would be chewed before he got to it. How generous of Fox to let him always have the first bite, a laughable, ironic, and moronic thought.
Unfortunately, said delicious vegetables were nowhere in sight.
In places that weren’t removed of plants, there wasn’t a single vegetable in sight. No tomatoes on the vines, no courgettes or zucchinis, no capsicums and no beans either. Just leaves and stalks, some with flowers blooming, but still far away from actually growing anything edible. Noting all of that should have been Rabbit’s cue to leave (and not return for many weeks, since it didn’t seem like there would be anything up for grabs anytime soon), but instead, quite carelessly with nothing better to do, he stayed to watch the show.
A one animal act, performed by none other than Fox. The garden was his stage, and his only props were a shovel, rake, and a bucket of ivory powder Rabbit couldn’t identify. He was digging holes in rows, distances measured seemingly by eye. He was also wearing a green fanny pack around his waist.
He’d long since gotten comfortable, watching with his arms on the fence, ogling the way Fox overturned the earth, forcefully bending nature to his will to create a grid. Row by row, column by column, with precision Rabbit couldn’t help but gleefully admire.
Because, as it had become very clear after years of being Fox’s neighbour, the vegetables he painstakingly cultivated were for Rabbit. It was almost flattering, the amount of effort Fox put in just to catch him.
“As much as I appreciate an audience,” Fox finally quipped, clawing through his thoughts, “You’re looking far too giddy.” Rabbit blinked a few times, and when he regained focus, he could see Fox side eyeing him, his hands clenched around the rake. Its sharp prongs were angled right in Rabbit’s direction.
“Just appreciating all the hard work that's going to my dinners,” Rabbit chuffed, before adding as a deliberate afterthought, “even if the view is abysmal.”
“I have three weapons to choose from,” the canine announced, glancing at his tools, “A shovel, a rake, and my claws. Tell me, which one would you prefer?”
“Four if you include the bucket,” Rabbit whistled.
“Hah!” Fox barked, “No, I wouldn’t waste my quality bone meal on you.”
Involuntary, his eyes went ahead and found the bucket, forcing him to stare. Ah. Now the ivory colour makes sense. While his joints melting into jello, he pulled himself together to turn back to Fox, who flashed a smug grin at him.
“I make it myself,” the canine remarked, “It’s quite easy, you know?” Fox set down his rake, probably finished making all those holes. Kneeling down next to one, he scooped some of the ivory powder from the bucket, and set them in the hole. “I boil them, particularly the large pieces, in a pressure cooker for a few hours, then dry them overnight and over the next day.” From inside his fanny pack, he pulled out a spade, using it to mix the powder in with the soil. “Then I grind it up in a pestle and mortar, and viola! The perfect fertilizer, enriched with phosphorus!”
Rabbit stared. It was all he could do, really. And if Fox were to pounce now (he’s expecting it any moment now), well, he’s not sure how long it would take to snap out of it. To unfreeze his arms from where they were locked, still leaning over the fence. However long it took, his limbs ultimately didn’t fail him. Movement came back to him slowly. First in blinks, then in twitches of his nose as he recalls the smell of dirt and earth again, and then his mouth as he lets out,
“I’m not going to ask what bones you use.” A thought he should have kept to himself, really. Because Fox replied,
“Oh sure you won’t!” A cackle erupted before a quick, “But I’ll have you know that nothing I hunt goes to waste.”
Fish bones, Rabbit tells himself to believe. Fox is using fish bones. Foxes eat fish, don’t they? They’ll eat anything with meat on them, he’s sure. He’s not sure what Fox’s tastes are, aside from his apparent desperation to eat him specifically.
But even if it was fish bones, that didn’t make him feel better. Not with what Lucy had been whining to him the other day.
“What other uses would bones have, after they’ve been boiled into broth?” Fox continued vicariously, mixing bone marrow in the holes he could reach from where he was crouched down. “I’d rather not waste something that still has a perfectly good use! And it’s done quite a good job, since you’re still stealing from here.”
And that's when it hit him.
Cycle of life, Rabbit tried to tell himself, but he’d already been left stunned again. Animals decompose, and then their nutrients go to the earth, and plants use those nutrients- cycle of life, cycle of life- this was just how it is- but still he couldn’t get rid of that dreadful feeling beginning to pool in his stomach. His breakfast, he thinks in a panic, trying to remember if what he had eaten from his last grocery run was from Fox’s garden.
“Well, I suppose one could try bone marrow butter,” Fox perked up, hand in the middle of his bucket, actively considering it as his nose went up. “Ooo! Roasted bone marrow! I haven’t had that for a good long while! I’ll have to keep it in mind.”
Fish didn’t have thick enough bones to have marrow inside them. Not enough to be edible at least. It would have to be from bigger, studier bones, like from mammals.
“How long do you think it will take for your garden to spit something edible out then,” Rabbit eventually asked, hoping he’d actually leave today with something useful.
“Patience, my dear Rabbit,” Fox snickered, “Growing the perfect specimens takes a vigorous effort from these plants.”
“So how long?”
“Perhaps my tomatoes will be done in four weeks,” Fox muttered, rolling his eyes, “But I’ll pluck them out to throw at you before you even think to come back here.”
“Challenge?” Rabbit taunted, raising an eyebrow.
“Never mind,” Fox said, “I have a spade that’ll do even better.”
Those words were his only warning before said spade was thrown right at him, square in the forehead.
That was his cue to scurry off.