©2010 Jennifer D. Porter

 TWO – THE BAD STORM

That night, after they were sure the coyotes would not return, Momma had scratched a new form beneath a very tall silver maple tree in front of the Wilder’s house. Now there was a house between her nest and the woods.

Seven sunsets came and went, and the little bunny grew much bigger. But he didn’t go outside anymore. And Momma never made him. She would say, “Why don’t you go out and play for awhile. Get some fresh air.”

“I dunno. I don’t feel like it,” he would say. “Besides, there’s no one to play with.”                    

Then one evening when the darkness came to their nest, the wind moaned. Rumblings of thunder sounded from far off. The bunny pushed his ear against Momma’s chest and listened instead to her heartbeat.

“Soon the peeper frogs will sing into the night, Rue,” she said. “And you know what that means!” She tickled his ears with her whiskers until he giggled.         

“I can leave our nest,” he said, but not with much excitement.

“Yes, Rue. You will be grown-up. And then I can show you the pond and the turtles and Mrs. Wilder’s garden where delicious snow peas grow on the vine.”

“Momma?”

“What is it, honey?”

“Why did you name me Rue?”

“Well, I was hopping in the woods thinking about your father and my other bunnies when the little white flowers of the rue anemone caught my eye. Small as they were, they brightened the damp, dark forest floor. Small as you are, you have filled my rueful heart with joy.”

Rue was quiet for awhile. “Tell me again about my father.”

“That his love for you lives on forever, even though he doesn’t?” She stroked the spot between his ears with her nose.

“Tell what he was like,” said Rue.

“Well, he was very persistent. And very brave. And very handsome. The most handsome rabbit ever.” Momma’s fur brushed against him as she rolled onto her legs and shook out her tail. Her warmth moved away and the dried grass crinkled beneath her as she sat back on her haunches.

“He didn’t back down, did he, Momma?”

“No, Rue. He saved my life and yours. Every other rabbit would’ve run away.”

 “But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t.” Momma sighed. She gently rubbed her nose all over his face while he sat there.                                

“Do you think, someday, I could be like him?” he asked.                                                                                  

“I do. But it’s up to you to decide what kind of rabbit you’re going to be.”                                                                           

“Up to me?”

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