Lucky Rabbit

Almost before Miss Cupcakes could sink back into the deep-darkness, all of the humans poured out of the house. The older-kittens encircled the little ones, and the hunter-Chancellor and Father-Lord stood at front and back, guarding, while Mother-Lady tightly gripped the hands of Ellie-girl and rabbit-friend-Thaniel. She was watching her own kittens, Geraldine and maybe-sister-Clara, but she held onto the others, protecting.

Older-kitten-Isidor slunk somewhere off to one side, and his ally-friend was on the other. This left three layers of protection around the small-kittens, if you counted the Mother-Lady, which Miss Cupcakes did. She was not a warrior, not a hunter, but she would not allow the kittens to come to harm if she could prevent it.

Hunter-male stopped and crouched, picking up the crushed spider the others had left for him to find. He showed it to Father-Lord, who nodded. With an easy voice, the hunter said, “That’s the end of the road, everyone. Time to go home! Did you all have fun?”

The small-ones cheered and yawned and rabbit-friend-Thaniel insisted he could go further, because, “I’m pretty sure I got a lot of socks.”

False-Dragon reached up and removed the long neck and head he had been wearing, revealing damp yellow fur. Miss Cupcakes had dismissed him before, but everything about him shifted now, and while he was no hunter, he was also no longer the hunted. His eyes were very nearly as sharp as those of a cat as he looked around, baring his teeth.

“I’ll send you a basket of candy, but we’re done,” he said, gaze catching on one of the many-legged things that skittered in the darkness. Rabbit-friend-Thaniel froze, then reached out to take his brother’s hand with the one the Mother-Lady wasn’t holding. The brother accepted it, but only briefly, then slipped his own hand free and reached into his loose clothing. He didn’t take out a weapon, not yet, but Miss Cupcakes was certain he had one. Before this, she would have said he was the most dangerous of the kittens, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“They’ve pulled the carriages ahead,” the hunter said quietly. “All together in three… two… one.”

Everyone moved forward as one, adults and older-kittens herding the younger ones. The little ones, for their part, had all figured out that something was wrong, and they went willingly, as kittens should. There was a time for playing, a time for hunting, and a time to flee. As much as Miss Cupcakes hated to admit it, this was a time to flee.

It was too easy. The things in the shadows followed along, but she could tell there were more and more of them. They moved in a mass, a carpet of living death, along walls and fences and the road, just beyond the circles of lamplight. Miss Cupcakes poured more of herself into those lamps, not just holding eyes-to-watch but giving them her own strength. Her paws slowed, but the circle grew larger, briefly revealing the edge of the dark horde. A few of the humans gave choked exclamations at the sight, but none of them stopped.

The carriages came into view, and Miss Cupcakes expected the spiders to attack. Why would they not? To wait was to risk their prey escaping. Then the lamplight touched the webs, white and thick, draped over every inch of the boxes on wheels. The horses were wrapped up tight, their pale cocoons barely quivering, and beside them were smaller lumps among the webs. Humans.

Human-boy-Edgar thrust out a hand, and Fire burst from his fingers. Miss Cupcakes quivered as she felt it. He had an elemental. Not-her. Not like-her. Smaller. Weaker. But it was Fire, and Miss Cupcakes was Fire, and the boy she now thought of as simply Edgar fed Fire into the web farthest from the trapped figures. The web melted, casting sparks into the air, and the spiders were Angry.

The mass finally broke, swarming the humans. Dozens crawled forward, climbing onto human feet, then legs, and each person responded with their own magic. Edgar spawned more Fire, though Miss Cupcakes could sense that his elemental was already growing weaker. Tall-boy-Dorian had knives which glittered with ice, and a thin film of ice crackled on his skin, protecting him from bites.

Former-false-Dragon-young-hunter Aiden blew the spiders away with sweeps of his hands, tossing them to smash against nearby buildings. The Hunter did much the same, though strangely he didn’t have the same kinds of large magics the young-one did, instead using many smaller magics to great effect. Father-Lord wrapped his cloak around Geraldine and little-Ellie like webbing, protecting them from bites by raising them into the air so he could cover them completely. Mother-Lady did the same with her skirts, tearing away huge swathes of material from her clothing to cover the small rabbit-friend and maybe-Clara. Maybe-Clara herself did nothing, only watching with impassive eyes.

Dog grew a circle of vines from his body, impaling spiders on long thorns that rattled with deadly intent. In the darkness, around the shrinking edge of the firelight, older-Isidor and the Other fought, sparks of not-Fire shooting between the older-boy and the turtle he kept hidden in his pocket. Turtle was angry, but she would help. Miss Cupcakes herself pounced from spider to spider, crushing them between her sharp white teeth, breaking them beneath her paws, crisping them with her Fire, her fur keeping her safe from bites.

The most effective of all was Thaniel-brother-Killian. He burned. Burned with neither Fire nor not-Fire, but pure radiance that beat out of him like a weapon itself. It pulsed, and spiders dropped, apparently dead, though Miss Cupcakes could see something Dark rise from them and flee into the night. He held out his hands, face tight and determined, but Miss Cupcakes could tell that he was already beginning to tremble.

The whole attack was surprisingly soundless. There were no screams, even from the little ones, just gasps and grunts and once a bark from Dog. Spiders made crunch-noises, or sometimes a sound that was a little more wet, but they didn’t cry out as they were crushed, impaled, burned, swept away, or simply dropped to curl up in mounding piles on the street.

The light went out. One moment the lamps were holding back the darkness, and Thaniel-brother was blazing like his own kind of lantern, and then it was all gone. The Darkness was thick, cloying, sweet but also faintly wrong, like something that had died and was just beginning to rot. Someone gasped, and finally there was a real sound of pain, a choked cry, and the lamps came back on.

All of the humans were on the ground. There was blood and a few scraps of cloth on the thorns that had sprouted from Dog. Mother-Lady lay in a heap, eyes open, face utterly white except for a streak of red at her throat, reaching from one side to the other. In her outflung hand was another scrap of cloth. Her claws were torn and ragged. Father-Lord was sitting up, blinking, clutching at the side of his head, where blood oozed freely, filling the air with more metal-scent. He held Geraldine, but small-Ellie and rabbit-friend-Thaniel were gone.

Geraldine pushed the material protecting her away from her face, crawling toward her mother. Her hands were red and raw where she must have fallen when her father dropped her. All around her, others did the same, rubbing their own heads, then looking around at the others. None were uninjured. Other than the Mother-Lady, they all seemed to be recovering.

Geraldine began to cry. She touched her mother’s face. Shook her. The Mother-Lady’s body flopped to one side. Too limp. Miss Cupcakes had seen this limpness before, and it was not good. Not good here and now. Not good in a human who belonged to Miss Cupcakes. The kitten began to creep forward, realizing as she did that she herself was also damaged. One of her paws was bleeding profusely, but she limped on it anyway. Her girl needed her.

They all froze when the keening began. It wasn’t a sound a human throat should make, but the Clara-female made it nonetheless. She was staring at the Mother-Lady, and she was crying. With shaking fingers, she reached up and touched the wetness falling down her cheeks. Holding her hands out in front of her, she stared at the way the lamplight caught the moisture, touching her fingers together once, twice, before her gaze lifted to the Mother-Lady again. Her eyes were dark, but her skin began to glow.

It was like someone had dropped an ember into a pile of white paper, like the lanterns the humans had lit for the night they called Idomoros. She blazed, her hair lifting from her head until it rippled in the air, and tiny shapes began to form around her, spawned by her grief and her power. They flared brilliantly, sinking toward the Mother-Lady – into her flesh, into the deep red smile that gaped beneath her soft chin. That smile narrowed, then closed, as more and more of the elementals were born and gave their brief lives to bring the human back from wherever she had gone.

The Mother-Lady’s eyes opened, and she gasped, then sat up, her arms instinctively wrapping around a wailing Geraldine, cradling her terrified kitten with all the fierce love of the mother she was. Sister-daughter-Clara crumpled, but Father-Lord caught her, falling to his knees, his face as stunned as the others, but already reaching to hold his wife and kittens.

Miss Cupcakes knew she had just seen something that shouldn’t have happened. That wasn’t the way magic worked. Dead was dead, though an empty body could be inhabited, if you knew how, if you were the right-wrong kind of elemental.

But none of that mattered right now. The spiders were gone. Geraldine and Miss Cupcakes’ other humans were… alive? Probably alive. But two were gone, and Miss Cupcakes didn’t like that. They weren’t hers, but they weren’t not-hers, and she wanted to know where they were.

Miss Cupcakes reached for Fire. Fire and the Memories of Fire. All the places that Fire once dwelt, and could again, given the right fuel. They were everywhere. Candles, lanterns, sparks cast by bonfires, the faintest traces of the lanterns from Idomoros, though those were mostly gone, covered by Water and snuffed by Air. Not here, not here, not here, notherenotherenotherenothere here.

Six figures, together. Two held smaller bodies. Limp, but not the worst kind of limp. Unconscious, but not dead. Each of the running figures had a source of Fire on them. No Fire was present, but now that Miss Cupcakes had found them, she was the Fire, and she felt her battered body flicker, flinch, and spark before she was pulled to the Memory, which grew fainter and fainter as it moved away, but Fire was faster than feet, and Miss Cupcakes leaped out, away from the almost-spark.

One of the figures saw her, of course. That was the bad part of flesh, but Miss Cupcakes hadn’t yet figured out how to be only-Fire, at least not for long. As much as she hated to admit it, the Water-pig was far ahead of her there.

A glittering black blade swung toward her, but she wasn’t quite all-flesh yet. The stuff that was her yielded before it, and it passed through, not-not-hurting, but also not hurting. She found herself swung around, and fell to the ground, solid again, painful gasping as she tried to recover, tried to crawl. Should have found another-Fire near, but she had been arrogant, thought she could make a difference, thought she could scratch and tear and-

“What is that?” a dark figure hissed.

“One of those damned animals,” another replied, approaching to prod Miss Cupcakes with their foot. She caught their scent, drew it in. She would know that smell. Know them if she smelled them again. If the flesh didn’t die and take her with it, because she didn’t know how to be just Fire.

“Kill it and let’s go. We’re going to be late,” the first said.

“No.” This was one of the figures that held the little-ones. The voice was wrong. Too rough. Too… Dark. The jaw of the face hidden within the shadows of the hood didn’t move in time with the words. “Bring it.”

There was no argument. The first speaker removed the black material stretched across its shoulders, concealing the outline of the body within, and wrapped it around Miss Cupcakes. Everything went dark. She knew she could burn the cloth, maybe burn the human, but she needed time to recover. When unkind hands lifted her, she didn’t resist.

They carried her to yet another carriage. She smelled the horses, their sweat, knew they had been forced to run. There were Memories-of-Fire at front and back, lanterns that weren’t lit, but Miss Cupcakes could look through them, just enough to see some of the buildings nearby. She smelled more than the horses and the scent of the human who had worn the cloak. She recognized this place. Had been here once before, though her humans had believed she remained in the carriage then, too.

This was the water-place. The place that had bustled with people, where sweet scents had filled the air along with one of her favorite smells: fish. Her humans had come here during this festival, looking at things and eating other things. Not-tasty-things to Miss Cupcakes, but that was good, because then she didn’t care that they didn’t know she followed and would like to share. The horses stood and panted, steam rising from their bodies in the cool night air. Someone lit a single lamp, and suddenly there was Fire, and Miss Cupcakes could see.

There was a low, flat house rising and falling on the water. More figures stood on it, and the ones who had carried away the small-children passed over two bundles of dark cloth. One stirred, calling for Dog, but everyone ignored her until she began to cry. Only then did they hush her, whispering dark threats that made her stop mid-sob.

Miss Cupcakes felt herself lifted even as she watched through the Fire. The small bundle that contained her was carried by the human with the strange voice, and when it climbed onto the floating house, she saw the pale, staring eyes and slack face. This wasn’t a human. Not anymore.

It threw Miss Cupcakes into a box after the little ones, and there was a hammering sound as a lid was put in place. Kitten-Ellie trembled, but didn’t make a sound. As soon as the pounding stopped, the house began to move, carrying box, children, and kitten with it. Little-Ellie began to thrash, and after a while the material binding Miss Cupcakes’ limbs together was tugged loose.

Ellie leaned in close, whispered, “Miss Cupcakes, do you understand me? I need you to do something. My hands are tied behind me. I can’t reach, but there’s a pin on my shirt. Just rip it off. Please. Please, Miss Cupcakes.”

Miss Cupcakes remembered this. Of course she did. She’d been beneath the table when younger-Isidor gave it to the little-Ellie. She’d heard him explain later, too, though she’d been watching through the Fire then. She’d been watching through Fire when the Rabbit spoke to rabbit-friend-Thaniel, and gave him a pin. Kitten-Ellie wanted older-Isidor, but as much as she hated it, Miss Cupcakes knew what she had to do. They were hurt, and they were not-safe, and they needed someone who could fix both things.

The box was larger than it needed to be for two small human-kittens and a Fire-kitten. Miss Cupcakes’ torn paw was among the least of her pains now. There was something very wrong with her shoulder and ribs on her right side. Still, she crept along the small, silent body of the boy, feeling her way today the spot of Light that lay against his chest. She hadn’t needed anyone to tell her that these things held power, but she supposed it was nice to know exactly what they did. 

Clamping her teeth over the bright speck, she pulled. It didn’t come free, so she forced herself to her paws, straightening her legs even when they screamed at her not to do so. Yanking her head back so hard her front paws lifted, she ripped the charm free.