The Last Rabbit

by Shelley Moore Thomas

  When it was time to go, the Magician carried me to the boat and placed me gently inside. It was the most tender thing I remember, ever in my whole life.

  A white bird tried to perch on the side of the boat, but the Magician shooed it away. Instead, it flew above us as the Boy and I drifted away from the island of Hybrasil. I listened for the sound of the Howler, for surely it wouldn’t let me leave without a final irritating wail to pierce through my courage.

  But there was nothing.

  The Magician watched from the beach as we disappeared into the foam and mist. I wonder what he did, in that moment when he knew he was alone.

  It was too sad to think about, so I chose to simply look at the white bird, flying in and out of the clouds, just as we floated up and down among the waves.

  “So, Albie, where is it you want to go? The world awaits you—nearly any time or place—within reason, of course. No going backward in your own time, because, well, it’s complicated. I mean, you can’t go to a place you already are. Just remember. That’s a no-no.”

  I could speak now, whenever I was ready, but I let the silence settle around us like a cloak, soft and ethereal.

  The Boy was content with the quiet, too.

  He rowed for quite some time.

  When Hybrasil had disappeared into the mist for the final time, I turned to the Boy and said, “It’s time to meet my destiny. Take me to the mainland. We’ve got sisters to find.”

  “What? No. Albie, that’s quite unreasonable.”

  He paused. But I’d made my decision, and nothing he could say would change my mind.

  “How about this,” he said at last. “I’ll tell you what it was like for each of them, each of your sisters. Maybe once you hear about each of their journeys, you’ll realize that finding them is a poor excuse for a destiny. There is so much out in the world—so much more. You’ll have no choice but to see the truth of it.”

  He was wrong about that.

  But I did want to hear of my sisters. I twitched my nose in agreement.

  “I’ll start with Caragh.” And so the Boy began.

  When Caragh got on the boat, she wasn’t afraid, not a little. That was because she knew it was the right thing to do. All rabbits need to get on the boat to go back into the world. That’s how it’s done, Albie.

  There’s a lot of time to talk on the boat. Usually we get to know each other well, the rabbits and I.

  Caragh told me her favorite thing on the mainland was the circus. She remembered all the interesting and unusual people who traveled and performed. She thought they were so very glamorous.

  “I’d like to be in a circus, Boy,” she’d said to me.

  “Would you, now?” I said.

  “Yes. I do love the circus.”

  There are many circuses on the mainland. Caragh wasn’t the only person who loved them. The trick was to find the one that was perfect for her. But she didn’t quite understand this.

  “Just a regular circus. And hurry up about it, Boy. I’m tired of being a rabbit,” she said.

  When we reached the shore, I borrowed a bicycle I found by the dock. We raced to find a circus. Remember, the rabbit stays a rabbit until she completely agrees with her placement in the world. Then she changes.

  And then there is no going back—I’m certain about that.

  Fairly certain, anyway.

  Caragh rode in the bike basket, and I pedaled like a fury. Over hills, through villages, in and out of cities, looking for a circus.

  “A circus has striped tents,” Caragh said. “And sometimes elephants. Look for the elephants.”

  It didn’t take long.

  I walked up to the tent. “I’d like to talk to the ringmaster,” I said to a small man in a stained shirt, with long hair and an uneven mustache.

  “Why?” said the man.

  “This rabbit wants to know what kind of circus this is.”

  “The rabbit wants to know?” said the man.

  “Yessir. The rabbit wants to know.”

  “What rabbit?” said the man, looking at me strangely.

  “Why, this rabbit, of course,” I said, gesturing to the basket, but Caragh was gone. What I didn’t know is that the enchantment upon you rabbits is quite remarkable, even more so on the mainland, where people don’t much believe in magic anymore. Anyway, when Caragh got scared, she vanished. Completely invisible. I do wonder if that is a gift all of you rabbits possess. Can you do it, too, Albie?

  (No, I can’t. Caragh could make herself invisible? How?)

  “Caragh?” I called. “Caragh? Where are you?”

  I heard her scamper behind the edge of the tent. I went over and whispered, “Caragh, it’s all right.”

  “I’m scared, Boy,” she said.

  The mustache man appeared and whispered over my shoulder, “Whatcha got there, lad?”

  I wasn’t skilled in the ways of diversion—not yet, anyway—so I told him.

  That was a mistake.

  “I’ve a rabbit, but you can’t see her. She’s scared.”

  “Wait a minute, lad! You’ve got a rabbit that really, truly turns invisible—a truly magical rabbit?”

  “I—I—guess so,” I replied. “Now, Caragh, come along. If you don’t like this circus, I can find another one.”

  “You’ll do no such thing, lad.” His voice was in my ear, and I felt something poking me in the back. It was probably a knife. I didn’t want to back up into it to check. I froze.

  “Make the rabbit appear again, or it’ll be your liver on a blade!”

  (I gasped, and the Boy looked pleased.)

  I stood very still, hoping she was still close by.

  “Caragh, this man is going to stab me in the gut if you don’t come out.”

  Caragh was a kind girl. A girl who knew the right thing to do. She appeared, and the man swooped her up by her rabbit ears and thrust her into a bag.

  “Ooooh, such a pretty silver thing you are!”

  “Now wait just a minute!” I cried. I couldn’t imagine what the Magician would have done if he’d been there.

  “Here ya go, lad. Here’s some coin for yer troubles.” He stuffed some sweaty coppers in my hand.

  “No! This rabbit is not for sale!” I cried.

  “I should say she’s not. She’s already sold!” The man laughed. “Going to make meself a fortune with a rabbit that is truly magic.”

  He grabbed a moth-eaten top hat and placed it jauntily atop his long, stringy hair.

  No place for a rabbit, let alone one who was trying to change back into a girl.

  The Ringmaster put his face close to the bag and spoke roughly. “This is how it’s going to be, rabbit. You will appear and disappear when I say, or you will become a fine stew. Understand?”

  There was no sound from the bag. What could she say?

  What had I done? My first job and I’d botched the whole thing.

  I couldn’t leave her behind. The least I could do was to stay with her. So, I got a job gathering hairs for the bearded lady.

  Her name was Maxine.

  “Why’s a fancy young gent as yourself working for the Ringmaster?” she said to me one day as I was dropping off that day’s collection, a few gray snippets, half a horse tail, and a lovely blond ponytail belonging to an obnoxious girl who kept yelling at the cat tamer, “Kill them all!”

  “You come from money. I can see it on you,” Maxine continued.

  “If you can see such things, then why don’t you work as the fortune-teller?”

  “Ha! That’s a crock, even worse than my fake beard. This isn’t even a proper circus.”

  I knew that now. I wish I had known it when I’d brought Caragh here.

  Caragh had two shows per day. One in the afternoon and one in the evening. She dutifully hid in the Ringmaster’s hat until he pulled her out by her ears, then she vanished right before their eyes. The Ringmaster never let go of her.

  After the show, the Ringmaster put her in a small cage. He kept the
key on a chain around his neck all the time.

  I had to find a way to get Caragh out of the mess I got her into, and get her to a proper circus. Unfortunately, word of the amazing magical rabbit had swept across the county. Folks were lining up to see the show. The Ringmaster was raking in the coins.

  Caragh was more and more distraught.

  One day, before I took the day’s collection of hair to Maxine, I stole a moment to sneak over to see her in her cage. She looked thin and pale.

  “We must find a way to get you out of here,” I whispered.

  She nodded.

  Her fur hung like an ill-fitting coat. I had to do something soon, or there’d be nothing left of her. The Magician had told me my task wouldn’t be easy. I should have listened better when we made the arrangement.

  “We’re getting you out of here, Caragh. Now. Today. You’ll do one more show, and that will be all.” I whispered my plan to her, watching for spies.

  The Ringmaster stumbled in. “Get yerself away from my rabbit, Boy.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “None of that sir. No putting on airs.”

  “Of course not, sir—I mean, I meant no harm.”

  He glanced over at Caragh, nearly skin and bones. “I need to fatten her up. She looks pitiful.” Then he addressed Caragh. “I’ll cut yer legs off for luck if you give me trouble.”

  He thrust a carrot in front of Caragh, who dutifully ate it, then he stuffed her in the hat for the evening show.

  Folks filled the bleachers, and the line outside circled the tents twice. I could see the Ringmaster sizing up the crowd to see if he’d have enough to do another full show.

  The circus began with the cat tamer. No, not a lion tamer like you might have heard of in other circuses. This was a smallish circus, so there were only smallish animals. Trained cats slinked across tightropes with no net below to catch them. Everyone knows that you can’t really train a cat, anyway. Cats do what they want to do. The trick is to find a cat that wants to walk a tightrope.

  There were no elephants or larger animals, unless you counted the baby llama that had somehow made its way from the other side of the world to the mainland. Sitting on the llama’s back was a trained marmot, Felix. Now, Felix was a stubborn marmot who didn’t like to do tricks, but the audience loved him all the same.

  A few other acts came and went—some very sorry-looking clowns and some pipers who needed a good deal more practice.

  “You, Boy!” the Ringmaster hissed in my ear. He pulled me by my arm and shoved me over to a rope ladder. “One of my trapeze artists is ill. The people want a show! Get up there!”

  I had no idea about swinging from one rope to another, and I wasn’t about to learn during a show, but the Ringmaster sneered and said, “If you don’t, the rabbit won’t live out the night.”

  I was wearing only regular clothes, but I guess it didn’t matter. Valiere, the lead flier, pulled me onto the platform and handed me the bar. “It is easier than it looks, mate. Just swing a few times, back and forth, then Wals will toss you the other bar and you switch. Got it?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll make it easy for you. You let go of this bar and grab on to that bar, or you fall. Do you understand now?”

  I gulped.

  There was no net.

  “Go,” said Valiere.

  “I’m not ready!”

  “Go anyway,” said Valiere, and shoved me off the platform.

  I soared over the heads of the crowd, my legs kicking wildly. I’m sure I looked quite ridiculous. Then back again I went. Then forward.

  “Pump! Pump your legs,” cried Valiere.

  I did as he said, hoping it would be enough to see me to the other side.

  I decided maybe it didn’t matter. If I fell, then that would be quite a distraction. And we needed a big distraction.

  Of course, I might die or become crippled. Isn’t it the Magician who says there’s always a price for things? If the price for saving Caragh was my life, was I willing to pay it? Don’t look so worried, Albie. Since I’m here, sitting next to you, obviously neither happened.

  (I was not looking worried, though my tail may have been shaking. Blasted tail.)

  Still kicking like a fool, I let go of the bar and reached with flailing hands for the one Wals had sent flying across to me.

  Time stopped, or so it seemed. I’m sensitive to time. One couldn’t sail the Sea around Hybrasil and not know how to navigate such things. I looked down at Caragh. She believed I could do this.

  One sweaty palm grabbed the bar and started to slip. I flung my other hand, reaching from my toes to my fingertips until I got both hands on the bar. The roar of the crowd I expected to hear was more of a groan.

  They were disappointed I hadn’t fallen.

  Wals reached out and pulled me up to the platform on the far side. “See, not so bad, eh?” I didn’t answer. I just climbed down the rope ladder, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

  Then it was Caragh’s turn. The Ringmaster did his usual hammy act. He was so full of flourish, it oozed out of him like an overripe banana from a rotten black peel. He reached into his hat and grabbed Caragh, who appeared as we had planned. The crowd clapped, but not with much enthusiasm. They’ve all seen this trick before. Then the Ringmaster said some flibberty-jibberty words, and then Caragh, right on schedule, vanished into thin air.

  Now the crowd was interested! This was what they had come to see! Even better than a boy falling to his death.

  Enter Maxine.

  “What’re you doing here?” roared the Ringmaster, dropping the invisible Caragh. “You’re in the second half. Get yer beard outta here!”

  “Do NOT yell at a lady,” Maxine warned, her beard blowing in and out with her breath. “I am Maxine, the Bearded Lady!” she cried, addressing the audience. “What type of amazement have you wrought, Ringmaster?”

  This was just the distraction we needed. As Maxine, who towered over the befuddled Ringmaster, asked him to pull something else from his hat, Caragh escaped.

  I raced to the back of the tent, where we had arranged to meet. She stayed invisible, as planned, and I placed her gently in the basket of the bicycle that I’d stashed behind a tree.

  I pedaled hard, till my breath burned against my chest and my lungs ached and wheezed.

  When it was safe enough to stop, I did. I panted for a bit, then realized the sound I was hearing wasn’t my own pitiful gasping, but Caragh.

  She was crying. And there’s not a more heartrending sound than that of a rabbit crying.

  (I remembered that sound well. We all cried. At least at first.)

  “Caragh, what is it? Why are you crying? We escaped. You’ll never have to work for that horrible idiot again. I’ll find you another circus, a proper one this time.”

  “I don’t want a proper circus. I don’t know what I want!” she cried.

  I tried to reach out and soothe her, but then she turned invisible.

  “You don’t have to go to a circus at all. I’ll take you wherever you want to go—whenever you want to go. You can go to the past, just not your own, or how about the future? It’s yours to choose,” I said.

  So, that’s the story, I guess.

  Oh, you didn’t expect that, did you? Well, neither did I. Caragh just vanished. Hopped away—still in rabbit form! I searched and searched for days, weeks, months on end.

  You’re wondering if I found her? Well, I didn’t.

  The Boy’s story about Caragh made things harder than I thought. How would we find her when we didn’t know where to start? Finding the circus where he’d left her seemed logical, but even though the Boy had been to this part of the mainland before, we were lost.

  “I told you this was an awful idea. Besides, the thing about circuses is that they travel!” he muttered, carrying me and stumbling along the road leading to yet another town. He’d left his boat tied to an old dock that he thought looked familiar.

  He might have been mistaken about
that dock.

  “You told the Magician that you checked in on my sisters. I heard you.”

  “I might have made things sound a bit more…favorable to my own situation than they were.”

  “Obviously.”

  The landscape was very green, but rocky as well, as if it couldn’t decide what kind of place it wanted to be—inviting or foreboding. The foreboding part kept me from wanting to hop along on my own. And there was the fact that the Boy owed it to me to carry me around for a bit. It was a bumpy ride, but it could have been worse.

  As if it read my mind, the wind blew a soft moan, just like the Howler when it starts up. How did it get here? Had it followed me? No, not possible. We were much too far away from Hybrasil to hear the actual Howler.

  I flattened my ears to my cheeks so I couldn’t hear the wind.

  “I thought you could take your little boat wherever you wanted to,” I said. “Can’t you just tell it to take you to Caragh?”

  “That’s not how it works. I can navigate to a loose time frame, and of course, places are a little easier to find. But going to an exact place or time, or both, is something I’m afraid I’m rusty at.”

  “You can only be rusty at something you were once good at.” Then, much more quietly, I said, “It doesn’t seem like you were ever good at it.”

  He pursed his lips but stayed silent.

  “How will we know when we are close?” I asked.

  “We’ll know. People will say something about a circus being near. They won’t be able to help themselves.”

  And soon enough, the Boy was right. We found a circus.

  This was far grander a circus than the one he told me about. As we got closer, my whiskers twitched. I could feel she was close.

  The tent wasn’t striped but a solid, magical shade of rich purple with white silk flags flowing in the wind. The Boy carried me inside his shirt, just in case there was another horrible ringmaster.