Bunnygirls

by Simon Archer

  “Lord Dragonoak,” I revealed with a hair swish. The two of them gasped at the drama of the plot twist like a couple of fangirls. A very relieved Hopper skittered down the hillside to greet me, probably informed by her rabbit ears. I took the blue coat off of Manewood’s body, trying on myself and finding it just a little bit too big to wear. However, it did make a majestic cape that flapped dramatically in the wind as my two new recruits marveled at me.

  Lord Dragonoak had arrived.

  14

  “Yes, you can have other animals at the ranch!” I bellowed the end of a long train of questions at the newly named Poodle, the pinkish-white rancher, and Shepherd, the dark brown rancher, as they participated in the age-old Wolf tradition of not understanding how names work. We had all gathered into the ranch with the ranch-bath in it, simply because it was big enough to have seven bear-sized animals in it at once comfortably and not because of the musky cow smell. The two new students sat down like school children in front of me while my other idiots were busy chowing down on the Emerald King beef I had sliced up for them. Hopper was watching to make sure they all got their fair shares of the meat, giving any greedy dogs a good kick to make sure they stayed in line while she held my new lord’s coat with her hands. “All you have to do is respond when I call your name. Please tell me you understand.”

  They gave me stares that were somehow tensely nervous and completely blank all at once.

  “What is your question?” I exuded out my built up vexation as I guessed what they were thinking.

  “Which one of us is ‘Poodle,’ again?” Poodle asked.

  “That’s you, Poodle,” I answered, still breathing out vexing leftovers.

  “Am I ‘Manewood?’” Shepherd asked.

  “You,” I paused to gather the last shreds of strength within me, “are Shepherd.”

  “Oh.” He said, poring over this information I had given to him at least ten times previously. “Can I still--”

  “YES.” My teeth were gritted close to cracking. “You can do whatever, as long as you aren’t screwing me over anywhere and also do what I tell you. No harming or talking badly about Rabbits, no harming other members of my household. That’s it. It is not that hard.”

  But it was that hard for them, apparently, as their canine brows scrunched and their black noses twitched, taking in all of the knowledge they had gained over the past hour which was only one piece of information repeated about a thousand times.

  “Let’s switch over to something else.” I gave up on developing their understanding of high-intellect concepts to focus on other matters. “Do you know if Manewood has an estate I need to collect on? Anything else besides these ranches?”

  “I don’t have an estate, boss,” Shepherd stated.

  “Did your old boss have one, Shepherd?” I looked the mutt right in the eyes. “You are Shepherd. What did your old boss own, Shepherd? Where is his property, Shepherd?”

  “I’d only seen the ranches, boss.” Poodle answered. “He didn’t ever leave this area. Just switched between these ranches a lot.”

  “He slept in the ranch-bath mostly,” Shepherd added. “Will you be doing the same, Lord Dragonoak?”

  “I will never touch that bath so long as there is blood in my veins,” I told them. “And I was hoping that the noble had a house in the city. It’d be nice to have a place where we could scope the Timberpine estate out from the inside, or at least an excuse to get inside the city. Do we have any special access papers or items we need to worry about?”

  “You can just go in, boss,” Shepherd said. “It’s just a big opening in the wall with guards.”

  “Yeah, why can’t you just walk inside?” Poodle asked. “Do you not like gates? I know they’re pretty loud when they open and close, but that almost never happens, so you’re safe.” Out of anyone else’s mouth, that would have been a condescending insult that would have gotten him punched in the snout. Once you’d explained the same concept to someone to the point of insanity, though, you know when they’re honestly dull as a bag of rocks.

  “You said he owns the ranches.” I switched topics again. “Does he own all of them?”

  “Yeah.” Poodle said. “There’s five of them.”

  “How do I prove I killed Manewood to the other ranches?” I asked them.

  “I’m not dead yet, boss,” Shepherd said before I glared at him. He thought it over, then realized what I was actually saying. “Oh, you could probably just take his head with you. That’d prove it.”

  “Is there an easier way?” I hoped.

  “Probably not, boss.” Poodle answered. “You could probably try to get something that smells like him, but anybody can find that. Some people try teeth, but who knows whose teeth are whose?”

  “You guys can identify each other by smell?” I asked them, formulating what could be the greatest linguistic revelation in Wolf history if I was right.

  “Yeah, everybody smells different,” Shepherd said. “Sometimes it’s subtle, but you can get the difference if you smell it enough. We each got our own smell, even Rabbits, and even you.”

  “That’s it!” I shouted out. “That’s what names are like! Names are like smells! You all have names just like you all have smells. My names for you are just ‘noise smells’ that I can shout at you to find your specific smell. Everything that you are is everything that is in your smell and in your name. It’s in my name and smell, and Hopper’s name and smell, too.”

  There was a quiet over the ranch-bathhouse, followed by the collective “Oh!” of seven canine beasts discovering and mastering a new concept for the first time.

  “There we go, boys!” I called out to them. “Go chew that over and enjoy yourselves awhile. The hard work begins in just a bit, so rest up until I call on y’all.”

  This discovery sparked a roaring discussion between them, all talking about their names and smells and introducing themselves to old coworkers and new as if it was their first meeting. They all seemed happy to be together now, unlike before, when they were just next to each other purely by association with me. They huddled together in a circle as their discussion turned into a murmur between them.

  “So,” Hopper walked over beside me, holding the blue coat up for me to look at. “Do you like it, my lord?”

  “If it helps me find Timberpine, I’ll wear anything,” I said, taking the coat from her to try to put it on again. As soon as I slipped the first sleeve on, I noticed a stark contrast to the looseness the sleeves had before. Putting the second sleeve on, I looked over the ensemble, realizing that it all fit remarkably well this time like it was a custom cuffed overcoat made just for me. “How the hell did you--”

  “I had some practice.” She said, overlooking her fine work. “Wolf nobles don’t do as well in clothes as they would like to believe, and would often blame the nearest slave for rips and tears to save face. I figured it was an easy way to keep people safe if I fixed them before they noticed. I’m no seamstress, I couldn’t do anything fancy, but I can fix and fit well enough.”

  “It’s been less than an hour, girl!” I turned around to try to see all of the different parts of it. “That’s some crazy fast work. I actually look good. Where d'you get string?”

  “I had to use parts of my old maid’s uniform.” She said. “I’ve got plenty of these striped shirts to use, anyway.” She twirled the extra-long sleeves of my flannel she was wearing.

  “Why don’t you fix those with your voodoo seamstress powers?” I asked her.

  “Because…” she sunk into her shoulders as she brought her covered hands up to her mouth. “I still want you to wear it again later. The last one stopped smelling like you.”

  “Soon, they’ll all be smelling like me if we don’t find a place to wash up.” I gave my armpit a whiff, finding only rancid sweat and death. “Woo, that is ripe. I’m betting every Wolf in Thumperton Port knows my ‘name’ by now.”

  “Timberpine estate has a bathhouse,” Hopper let me know. “That’s so
mething you can look forward to.”

  “Is it anything like our ranch-bath here?” I looked over to see seven happy Wolves, all different colors of the dog rainbow, splashing around in the hot water as they had fun in the doggy pool.

  “As long as you don’t let the Wolves bathe in your bath, it won’t be.” She soothed me. “I would suggest keeping them very separate from the servant and personal baths.”

  “Noted.” I let out a laugh. “They can have the ranch-bath.”

  It was sad to think that they might turn on me in a second if I wasn’t careful with them. They’d turn on Hopper or my other servants if anyone thought I was dead. Looking at them now, though, it made me realize they weren’t being malicious. They were just like dogs trying to please their owners. Giant, monstrous, stupid, dopey, talking dogs. They bit because they thought that was what their masters wanted, and they didn’t know any better. If they tried any of that now while I was their master, I’d shut them down faster than a nuclear blackout, no matter how master-pleasing they were trying to be.

  “Now that you have the appropriate look for a lord of your stature,” Hopper looked over my fancy coat once again, “What is the new ‘Lord Dragonoak’ going to do?”

  “That’s a pretty good idea, actually,” I said, drawing inspiration from her. “I might just be able to use that name as a cover to keep myself from looking like an independent until I make my move. Fighting this game by their rules is gonna require some tact from us. Until I say so, call me only by Lord Dragonoak.”

  “But, Lord Hank,” she started to question, then corrected herself, “uh, Lord Dragonoak, not to question your wisdom, but how is the new name going to make any difference? You’re going to be working against the Wolves either way, right?”

  “‘Lord Dragonoak’ is gonna be a visiting noble from far away,” I described the idea, “who works under ‘Lord Hank McCallum.’ An independent noble is a powder keg in this system, even at the lowest rungs, and the smarter nobles are gonna realize that. As soon as I’m discovered, everyone will want to try to defeat me so they can claim both myself and all of my properties and pack. If the Baron finds out, he has the whole city under his thumb. He’ll squash me before I’m ready. That’s too much heat at once when I’m only working with a set of spread apart bases with no supplies for a war. If I’m working under a more powerful lord than myself, it’ll raise less suspicion when I start taking properties, since it’ll look like I’m gathering power for my own lord, or I’m looking to overthrow him. It’ll be business as usual for everybody, and they’ll have their guards down.”

  “Yes, Lord Dragonoak,” she stated, locking in the new name. “That sounds like a good plan, Lord Dragonoak. A clever deception is always a smart plan, Lord Dragonoak. You’ve obviously been thinking this through, Lord Dragonoak.

  “We’re gonna go about this a little differently than I first wanted.” I brainstormed, pushing through a fit of laughter. “My original guerilla warfare idea was all well and good up until I learned more about Wolf politics. If we try to storm the place in the dead of night and assassinate him, his cronies are just gonna fight until a new guy takes the head, since that’d be a ‘sneak-attack.’ We’d have to subjugate the new boss along with every other Wolf, risking Timberpine’s Wolves gaining their own packs while we went through them. If we can’t do that, we’ll have to kill him quickly, or they’d just pick another, and we’d have to kill or defeat every damn Wolf in the place to get the estate back. Each time it’d get harder and harder, since killing pack leaders would only dissolve parts of the group even as soon as the one after Timberpine and the bigger groups would take the Wolves that I don’t get to in time. It’s a huge drain on energy, time, and resources I would rather avoid. That’d be especially dumb since we could just go about killing Timberpine and get all of those Wolves and slaves working for me, with no fuss or lives in the crossfire.”

  “But did we not need the Hunter’s cache to arm ourselves for an assault?” She offered a rebuttal.

  “We definitely still need the firepower,” I said. “However, the more I’m learning about this place, the more I’m figuring out about how to get what we want as clean as possible. We might have to be a little bit more subtle about it at first to avoid the Baron, but I’m guessing that without a master of my own, I’ll be making more than a little mayhem around here when I start challenging whoever I want as I climb the social ladder. Once we can get a serious foothold in the city, gather a bit of a rapport around town, maybe Timberpine will challenge us on his own. If not, I’ll just have to become a powerful enough lord that he wouldn’t dream of refusing me.”

  “What would you have me do in the meantime?”

  Looking around, I picked up my bag with some of my spare clothes in it, finding my least-used overalls, handing them to Hopper.

  “Put these on for me,” I instructed her. “Over your shirt if you don’t mind.” I started overthinking how that came across, attempting to correct myself in a gentleman-like manner. “Not that I mind, I would love to see that, you without your shirt in overalls. Not in a creepy way, I mean! I’m not wanting you to make a spectacle or nothing.” I wiped my head to cool myself down. “I just need you covered while we’re in the city.”

  “Are you embarrassed by me, my lord?” Hopper undid the buttons to the straps.

  “I am completely pleased with you, Hopper,” I stated as clearly as possible. “If they were looking for bunnies with a special gift at one time, I don’t want to risk any of them coming for you. When I’ve got enough of a reputation to scare off anyone who’d try to threaten me, you can flaunt all your endowment as you please, as I will also be pleased, believe me.” The overthinking began again. “Not that you need to! I don’t mean to sound like I don’t appreciate you, or I’m wanting you to be unladylike. You can wear anything you want. Except you can’t right now because we gotta hide you.”

  Hopper slipped the overalls on as I barfed out more words, sliding the legs past the kevlar leg guards I gave her. She finally managed to get them over her hips, hooking the buttons for the straps and on the side. Despite the overalls’ best efforts, the shape of Hopper’s great ass and thighs were still fully available for anyone who saw her, regardless of the covered skin. She’d be spotted for sure. I expected as much, and it was better than nothing, but we needed something better.

  “Damnit, Hopper, you are too pretty for this world.” I thought out loud on accident, only catching myself when she blushed at the comment. “Can you make yourself something to hide all of your sweet… to hide yourself?”

  “I’ll try my best, my lord.” She took the overalls off as she complied. “I wish only to please you.”

  “Make yourself something nice to wear later, also, while you’re at it.” I gave her one last command. “Use whatever of my clothes you need for any of that. Go nuts. I just want you to know that I’m not trying to shame you or anything, just covering you up.” I rambled as I dug myself deeper into my humiliation. “Just for right now! Not forever. I don’t want you to hide yourself forever, just for the time being while your hotne-- your sweet body-- your Bunny parts-- it’s just not good to see you right now. I mean, it’s good to see you! All the time! I like seeing you.” I shut my mouth tight before my foot would have to be surgically removed from it.

  “My lord, are you well?” She put a hand to my bearded cheek.

  “I’m fine,” I said with a deep breath. “I guess I’m just not good at making polite and respectful compliments when it comes to the beauty of a gorgeous lady like yourself.”

  “But you come up with such sweet things to say all the time, Lord Hank,” she said to me. “Why is this any different?”

  “Just feels ungentlemanlike, I guess,” I admitted. “I can speak what’s on my mind or come up with a dumb lie easy. But with this, all the words come out wrong, no matter how I arrange them. Ain’t the best tool in my toolkit.”

  “If I may speak my mind, my lord,” she said. “Do you have to use
words for compliments?”

  “I mean,” I got a little confused, “you gotta communicate it somehow.”

  “Is that the only standard?” she asked. “Then I’ve received many polite and respectful compliments about my looks from you.” She took one of my meaty sausage mitts in her delicate hands. “You’ve told me dozens of times how much you appreciate the beauty you see in me. They’re even more meaningful since you use your words to lift me up and comfort me, not just talk about my shape and color. You make me feel like all parts of me are beautiful.”

  “I’m not following,” I said, trying to think back to all of those embarrassing compliments throughout our time together. “I’ve been sincere with you every time I’ve spoken, that’s the truth. I’ve also made a damn fool of myself trying to flatter and flirt a dozen times. Just having a doozy of a time remembering any moment those thoughts got outright.”

  “A great leader knows how to communicate their thoughts however they need to.” She rubbed my palms with two fingers. “Like an instinct, they know what gets through best to who’s listening. Even if they don’t believe their words have been more than enough, and even if they don’t realize it themselves, they can speak their minds with great tools like these.”

  “My hands?” I looked down at the other mitt which she grabbed and brought together with the first.

  “I can’t count how many times these hands have told me how beautiful I am.” She placed my hands against her face, letting me rub my thumb against her cheek.

  Without letting go, she then directed them by the wrists past her neck, one to her side and one down her chest. After a moment or two, she let go, letting my hands free as they perused the art gallery that was Hopper’s curves.

  “Are you not telling me how you feel right now, my lord?” Hopper’s hands rested upon my own chest, sifting one hand up to my neck. “Wouldn’t your hands be as honest as you say you are? Someone like me could only hope to be as eloquent. I’ve loved your kind words so much, but if you don’t think the sounds you make are enough, I can hear what you’re saying just fine without them.”