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BAD BUNNY
In one day Tisk the bunny has lost her home, seen all of her fellow bunnies die, and broken one of the unbreakable rules by leaving the dungeon. It seems clear to her that her loss is simply some form of punishment for her transgressions. After all, why can’t the punishment come before the crime?
Now without any rules to guide her away from being a bad bunny, Tisk needs to find her way in the world. Luckily, she has recently made the acquaintance of a group of adventurers. If she can’t be a dungeon bunny, perhaps she can at least be an adventurer.
Now without any rules to guide her away from being a bad bunny, Tisk needs to find her way in the world. Luckily, she has recently made the acquaintance of a group of adventurers. If she can’t be a dungeon bunny, perhaps she can at least be an adventurer.
Bad Bunny, Book Two of the Heroic Bunny Saga, is now available for preorder. You can get it on Kindle or read it through Kindle Unlimited.
DUNGEON BUNNY + BAD bUNNY aUDIO bOOK
Books 1 and 2 of the Heroic Bunny Saga are now available for preorder in Audio Book format.
DUNGEON BUNNY
The world is in peril and fate needs a hero to save it. Sometimes all fate gets is a bunny. She is a dungeon creature bound by the rules of the dungeon. Her job is to do bunny things, like eat and hop, and eventually fall prey to larger creatures. A bunny need do nothing more. However, she cannot help herself. Everyday as adventurers pass through the cave that she calls home, she hears them talking. Their words are wonderful, and she learns as many as she can while trying to ignore the epic tragedy of her life. She is just a bunny, and there is no way that a bunny could ever be like an adventurer, no matter how many words she knows.
PREVIEW OF CHAPTER ONE OF DUNGEON BUNNY
She was a bunny, and she mainly did what all bunnies did. Namely, she took in raw energy and processed it into a more refined form of essence. Though, being a bunny, she understood this in only the most abstract and distant of ways. To her, it was a bunny’s job to eat plants and go about her bunny business.
Of course, she couldn’t eat just any plant, there were rules about that sort of thing after all. For example, those blue striped flowers that glowed in the moonlight looked and smelled oh-so-delicious near the cave’s entrance were off limits. They were not at all like the grass and lichen that composed most of her diet. Not that those were bad, mind you. In fact, grass could be quite delectable. She liked to consider herself something of a connoisseur when it came to the different types of plants on the menu.
At least she was as far as what was available in the cave was concerned. It was not as if she could even consider eating the outside plants. Obviously, she could not think of eating those blue flowers either. It was against the rules, after all.
But if the grass she usually ate was a good ale or hearty mead, then surely those blue flowers must be a fine wine. Not that she knew what ale or wine tasted like. She was a bunny after all, and those things were not for bunnies. However, the adventurers that occasionally passed through the cave would talk of such things. It was all hard to understand without the proper context, but she believed she had figured out enough. Ale seemed to be good, but common, like the grass in the cave. Fine wine, however… Wine must be a very delicious type of grass.
Of course, sometimes the adventurers seemed to be of differing opinions. The shorter adventurers who often had furry faces seemed not to think highly of the grass. Meanwhile, the tall skinny ones with larger ears, though not as large as her’s, seemed much more amenable to it. The pattern did not always hold, but it was true often enough that she had noticed it at the very least.
In the end, she had reached the conclusion that wine must taste good. Just like she was sure the blue-glowy-flowers must be equally delectable.
She did not know the name of the flowers. In fact, the concept of names was something that she had only recently become aware of. At some point in time, she was sure one of the adventurers had said the name of the flower, but she probably had lacked the context to understand what the words meant, just as she failed to understand much. The adventurers seemed to know everything, after all, and she only knew very little. However. it was only a matter of paying enough attention and piecing it all together.
It was essential to understand that names are not a thing that most bunnies had the need for. She was still not entirely sold on the concept herself. While she had to admit that the idea of names was intriguing, she was not entirely sure it would be all that useful. Her brain, after all, was really very small, and she did not know if she could afford to fill it with only marginally helpful things, let alone anything that might turn out to be completely useless.
Why did it matter what the flower was called? If she thought to herself, “the blue-glowy-flowers,” or “the flowers with an enticing scent,” or even “the most tempting of the forbidden plants,” it did not matter. Whichever way she thought of it, she would understand her own thoughts.
At least she thought that was the case. Thinking this way, thinking to herself, was still a new occurrence. Not as new as the concept of names, certainly, but still new. She felt that it was understandable that she had yet to figure out all of how it worked, and that any reasonable person ought to give her some grace.
She could not speak. That much should be obvious. She was a bunny, and bunnies did not speak. If she could talk to the other bunnies, perhaps names would be more useful. But as far as she could tell, speaking was something unique to the two legs.
Well, she had to admit that was not entirely true. She could speak in a sense.
When she spoke, her lips did not move, and no sound came from her. The only one that could hear it was herself, though even she did not hear it with her ears. These types of thoughts were what was new. They had started after an adventurer group had camped out for at least a full moon in the cave. She had listened to adventurers before; they were strange things and always caught her attention. But that was the first time she had really put her mind to dissecting what their sounds meant.
Though she could not reproduce those sounds, that was when this self-talking thing had started. But if she was honest with herself, and she liked to think she was an honest bunny, there was some sort of precursor to this form of thought that had always been with her. Of course, she was not quite sure exactly what it meant to be honest, but from what she had gathered from the adventurers, it was a good thing. Or perhaps it was merely a bad thing to be dishonest? As she made clear, she was not entirely sure. However, she knew that she was a good bunny, and if honesty was good, then certainly that meant that she was an honest bunny as well.
However, she still wasn’t convinced about names. It seemed that adventurers all had names, most of which appeared to be unique. It seemed to her that it must be very confusing. It was one thing to remember one name for the shorter adventurers with the ugly noses that reminded her of the toads outside of the cave, and another name for the taller adventurers with smaller noses that were closer to the proper bunny ideal of a nose. But to remember a name for each individual adventurer?
No, that was much too complicated, and her brain was much too small to try and fit all of that. If she did decide to adopt the strange, but still alluring idea of naming, she would only remember the names of the most important things. She was slightly worried that all of the words she had learned were in of themselves names. Only instead of names of animals and plants, they seemed like they might possibly be the names of concepts.
However, a name seemed more definitive. Just like the “delicious flower I want to eat,” “the blue wine,” and “the moonflower” all meant the same thing, and “good,” “proper,” and “eats grass” all meant the same thing, a name would be a singular word that somehow encompassed all of those things. Or so she thought. She was not certain. She was a bunny, after all.
She looked at the flower and knew that she couldn’t eat it. It was against the rules for the bunnies to harm these particular plants, and she could not not follow the rules. It was part of what it meant to be a good bunny. She was not confident she could break the rules even if she were a bad bunny.
However, she was also a clever bunny. That was something she had realized. Bunnies did not talk, of course, but she was reasonably certain that she thought about things more than her fellow bunnies. In fact, she would be surprised if “crooked nose” or “gray tail with a streak of white” or even “big fatty” knew even a single word. Of course, it might be an unfair assumption on her part. After all, she was the only one that could hear her thoughts as far as she could tell, and they might all mistakenly think she did not know any words!
That thought had greatly upset her when she first had it. She was proud of the words she had collected and stored away in her very small brain. However, she had no way to share them, and to an outside observer, it likely seemed like she had no words. She had tried to think of ways to share her thoughts with the other bunnies and perhaps to teach them words if, in fact, they knew none, but she had yet to come up with any.
Of course, that was neither here nor there. Right now, she needed to focus on the flower.
“Do not harm the blue-flowers.”
She had known that rule along with the others from the moment she had been born in the dungeon. However, back then, it had been a deep instinctual thing. Now that she had words, she understood the rule more concretely. And now that she understood the rule, she realized that while it was impossible to break rules, one could perhaps eat their way around them.
The rule was, “do not harm,” not “do not eat.” On the one paw, perhaps the latter was the intention of the rule, but on the other paw, if that were the case, then the rule would be something different.
So she was watching the flower intently, just as she had done for the past few days. She broke her gaze only occasionally to bite off a tuft of grass, looking back up as she chewed. She had to eat the grass to be a good bunny. That wasn’t a rule; that was just common sense. Besides, who was she to turn down a full-flavored bite of grass when it was right there.
In fact, the undeniable quality of grass was the detail that most made her question the value of names. The adventurers used them, and they seemed like they were quite intelligent beasts. The way they navigated the traps and fought the more fearsome creatures of the dungeon had at least convinced her of that fact. However, she had never once seen any of the adventurers eat any grass of any type. No grass at all! What kind of sensible creatures did not eat grass?
Of course, some of the predators deeper in the dungeon did not eat grass. They ate bunnies or, in some cases, the things that ate bunnies. However, she was not quite convinced that those creatures were in possession of any words and certainly not of any intelligence. She had never had much trouble using her tiny brain to come up with ways to stay safe from them. Never once had any of those terrifying creatures ever been able to harm her.
Well, that was not entirely true. She scratched at the one scar near her neck. There had been a few close calls, but considering that she did not believe herself to be a particularly physically fit member of her species, she had done very well for herself if she dared to say.
However, other than the lack of grass eating, all other evidence, or at least most other evidence, pointed to the adventurers being quite intelligent. The only conclusion she had been able to make regarding their behavior was that they filled up on grass before coming to the cave, though she found that hard to believe. One could never have enough grass after all, and sometimes the groups would stay for quite some time. Though recently, their stays had been shorter. Luckily, many more groups had been cycling in and out to make up for it, so she never had to go too long without seeing an adventurer.
The other possibility was that they had access to grass of such high caliber that they would not lower themselves, literally and figuratively, to eat the plants that made up the staple of her diet. This idea came with its own set of problems, not the least of which was that she found it insulting. What sort of creatures thought they were too good for her grass.
But she had to be willing to put her own preconceived biases and notions aside. Perhaps the grass and lichen that she normally ate was a variant of the “piss-poor excuse for beer” that some of the adventurers complained of. If they had a large supply of wine, and the difference was really that extreme, perhaps that could explain it.
Which, ultimately, was what had brought her to her unsuccessful staring match with the flower. Most of the adventurers would gather around the flowers and pick them. If the adventurers, who refused to eat a single bite of grass, became so excited over the flowers, certainly, they must taste exquisite.
At first, she thought it strange that the rule “Do not harm the blue-flowers” did not apply to the adventurers. However, after giving it more thought, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Shadowing some adventuring groups, she observed that many of the monsters seemingly followed a rule along the lines of “try to kill adventurers.” Yet, bunnies were under no such compulsion, so it stood to reason that the dungeon may have given different rules to different creatures.
Besides, whenever a group of adventurers did pick the flowers, the dungeon would wait until they left and then simply regrow them. It made her wonder why the dungeon could not let her eat the flowers and then do the same or even grow some just for her, but she was sure the dungeon had much more important things to worry about than a small little bunny.
She had locked her eyes on the flower, except when she needed to take bites of grass, of course. She was focused on the matter at paw and thought interruption unlikely. No adventurers were in the dungeon at the moment. Still, her ears were constantly pivoting on the top of her head, alert for any sign of danger. There were no predators nearby. It meant she was safe to watch the flower. Eventually, her patience would pay off.
None of the other bunnies seemed to be patient. They always hopped from one piece of grass to another. Not that there was anything wrong with hopping. She appreciated a good hop as much as the next bunny, but you could learn so much more by simply being still and paying attention.
There it was!
A stiff breeze had blown by; there was a storm on the wind. Not that she ever went past the cave exit, but she had eyes and could see as well as any other bunny when it rained outside. The water running into the cave would help refill the pool that they would drink from, but it could also drive other more dangerous creatures into the cave. It was important for a bunny who wanted to be able to stay alive to judge the weather.
This breeze had done something that she was not allowed to do. It had caused a petal to fall from the flower. The wind quickly died down, and the single beautiful petal did not go far. Cautiously, she hopped towards it.
The rule was, “Do not harm the blue-flowers.” The petal was no longer part of the flower. But… what if she was wrong? She supposed that if she were wrong, she wouldn’t be able to eat the petal. After all, rules were rules, and they could not be broken.
She reached her neck forward, grass-blade by grass-blade. Her nose reached the petal and twitched. By itself, it did not smell as strongly as the rest of the flower, but there was no denying that it smelled delicious. She understood why the adventurers always collected the flowers, though she did not know what it meant that they “captured escaping mana,” or whatever it was that the two-legs said.
Her mouth opened, and she hesitated for a moment. She wanted to forever remember this moment. She bit down, her two front teeth piercing the surface of the petal as she began to chew.
Its taste was… She did not have the words to describe it. She had never tasted anything like it before, and it defied definition by her refined palate. She wrinkled her nose for a moment; there was undoubtedly a bitter component. She understood why not all of the adventurers might like wine. “Floppy ears” and “hops too much” probably wouldn’t like it. However, she thought it was just right.
Yes, she thought, wine was quite excellent. As she savored the petal, slowly chewing it, a warmth spread through her body, along with a tingle that, just like the taste, she had never experienced before.
For a brief instant, the curious bunny thought she saw a blue light. However, when she hopped around she saw nothing. Not that she needed to hop much. The dungeon had wisely decided to put a bunny’s eyes on both sides of its head. She could almost see completely behind her without moving. Helpful, she thought, for avoiding predators.
Then she looked down at her paw, and like the light, thought for just a moment that her fur looked blue. But when she blinked, it was her normal blue color. She blinked a few more times. Obviously she had been thinking about the blue flower for far too long. A bunny might argue that it would be best to ignore them in the future. However, on the other paw there was no deciding the taste. Another bunny might scream at her if she decided to pass up on the petals. They might do that, if bunnies could talk, which they most certainly could not.
For her part, she decided that watching the flower for a fallen petal would become part of her daily routine. It would be hard to fit in. She was a busy bunny, much more so than the other bunnies. In addition to all of the grass and lichen and other plants she needed to eat, there was much she needed to think about. Perhaps she could make up her own words to better describe the new tastes she had just experienced. She was not certain if that would be allowed, but she did not see why it would not be. After all, as far as she knew, there was no rule against it. But maybe it would simply be beyond the capacity of her tiny brain. Yes, she was a very busy bunny, indeed, with so much to think about. Of course, she also needed to fit some hopping about into her schedule. It absolutely would not do to not hop at all.
As she moved away from the cave entrance in case the coming storm drove any creatures towards the shelter provided by it, she had a happy realization.
Eating the fallen petal was very obviously not against the rules.
Of course, she couldn’t eat just any plant, there were rules about that sort of thing after all. For example, those blue striped flowers that glowed in the moonlight looked and smelled oh-so-delicious near the cave’s entrance were off limits. They were not at all like the grass and lichen that composed most of her diet. Not that those were bad, mind you. In fact, grass could be quite delectable. She liked to consider herself something of a connoisseur when it came to the different types of plants on the menu.
At least she was as far as what was available in the cave was concerned. It was not as if she could even consider eating the outside plants. Obviously, she could not think of eating those blue flowers either. It was against the rules, after all.
But if the grass she usually ate was a good ale or hearty mead, then surely those blue flowers must be a fine wine. Not that she knew what ale or wine tasted like. She was a bunny after all, and those things were not for bunnies. However, the adventurers that occasionally passed through the cave would talk of such things. It was all hard to understand without the proper context, but she believed she had figured out enough. Ale seemed to be good, but common, like the grass in the cave. Fine wine, however… Wine must be a very delicious type of grass.
Of course, sometimes the adventurers seemed to be of differing opinions. The shorter adventurers who often had furry faces seemed not to think highly of the grass. Meanwhile, the tall skinny ones with larger ears, though not as large as her’s, seemed much more amenable to it. The pattern did not always hold, but it was true often enough that she had noticed it at the very least.
In the end, she had reached the conclusion that wine must taste good. Just like she was sure the blue-glowy-flowers must be equally delectable.
She did not know the name of the flowers. In fact, the concept of names was something that she had only recently become aware of. At some point in time, she was sure one of the adventurers had said the name of the flower, but she probably had lacked the context to understand what the words meant, just as she failed to understand much. The adventurers seemed to know everything, after all, and she only knew very little. However. it was only a matter of paying enough attention and piecing it all together.
It was essential to understand that names are not a thing that most bunnies had the need for. She was still not entirely sold on the concept herself. While she had to admit that the idea of names was intriguing, she was not entirely sure it would be all that useful. Her brain, after all, was really very small, and she did not know if she could afford to fill it with only marginally helpful things, let alone anything that might turn out to be completely useless.
Why did it matter what the flower was called? If she thought to herself, “the blue-glowy-flowers,” or “the flowers with an enticing scent,” or even “the most tempting of the forbidden plants,” it did not matter. Whichever way she thought of it, she would understand her own thoughts.
At least she thought that was the case. Thinking this way, thinking to herself, was still a new occurrence. Not as new as the concept of names, certainly, but still new. She felt that it was understandable that she had yet to figure out all of how it worked, and that any reasonable person ought to give her some grace.
She could not speak. That much should be obvious. She was a bunny, and bunnies did not speak. If she could talk to the other bunnies, perhaps names would be more useful. But as far as she could tell, speaking was something unique to the two legs.
Well, she had to admit that was not entirely true. She could speak in a sense.
When she spoke, her lips did not move, and no sound came from her. The only one that could hear it was herself, though even she did not hear it with her ears. These types of thoughts were what was new. They had started after an adventurer group had camped out for at least a full moon in the cave. She had listened to adventurers before; they were strange things and always caught her attention. But that was the first time she had really put her mind to dissecting what their sounds meant.
Though she could not reproduce those sounds, that was when this self-talking thing had started. But if she was honest with herself, and she liked to think she was an honest bunny, there was some sort of precursor to this form of thought that had always been with her. Of course, she was not quite sure exactly what it meant to be honest, but from what she had gathered from the adventurers, it was a good thing. Or perhaps it was merely a bad thing to be dishonest? As she made clear, she was not entirely sure. However, she knew that she was a good bunny, and if honesty was good, then certainly that meant that she was an honest bunny as well.
However, she still wasn’t convinced about names. It seemed that adventurers all had names, most of which appeared to be unique. It seemed to her that it must be very confusing. It was one thing to remember one name for the shorter adventurers with the ugly noses that reminded her of the toads outside of the cave, and another name for the taller adventurers with smaller noses that were closer to the proper bunny ideal of a nose. But to remember a name for each individual adventurer?
No, that was much too complicated, and her brain was much too small to try and fit all of that. If she did decide to adopt the strange, but still alluring idea of naming, she would only remember the names of the most important things. She was slightly worried that all of the words she had learned were in of themselves names. Only instead of names of animals and plants, they seemed like they might possibly be the names of concepts.
However, a name seemed more definitive. Just like the “delicious flower I want to eat,” “the blue wine,” and “the moonflower” all meant the same thing, and “good,” “proper,” and “eats grass” all meant the same thing, a name would be a singular word that somehow encompassed all of those things. Or so she thought. She was not certain. She was a bunny, after all.
She looked at the flower and knew that she couldn’t eat it. It was against the rules for the bunnies to harm these particular plants, and she could not not follow the rules. It was part of what it meant to be a good bunny. She was not confident she could break the rules even if she were a bad bunny.
However, she was also a clever bunny. That was something she had realized. Bunnies did not talk, of course, but she was reasonably certain that she thought about things more than her fellow bunnies. In fact, she would be surprised if “crooked nose” or “gray tail with a streak of white” or even “big fatty” knew even a single word. Of course, it might be an unfair assumption on her part. After all, she was the only one that could hear her thoughts as far as she could tell, and they might all mistakenly think she did not know any words!
That thought had greatly upset her when she first had it. She was proud of the words she had collected and stored away in her very small brain. However, she had no way to share them, and to an outside observer, it likely seemed like she had no words. She had tried to think of ways to share her thoughts with the other bunnies and perhaps to teach them words if, in fact, they knew none, but she had yet to come up with any.
Of course, that was neither here nor there. Right now, she needed to focus on the flower.
“Do not harm the blue-flowers.”
She had known that rule along with the others from the moment she had been born in the dungeon. However, back then, it had been a deep instinctual thing. Now that she had words, she understood the rule more concretely. And now that she understood the rule, she realized that while it was impossible to break rules, one could perhaps eat their way around them.
The rule was, “do not harm,” not “do not eat.” On the one paw, perhaps the latter was the intention of the rule, but on the other paw, if that were the case, then the rule would be something different.
So she was watching the flower intently, just as she had done for the past few days. She broke her gaze only occasionally to bite off a tuft of grass, looking back up as she chewed. She had to eat the grass to be a good bunny. That wasn’t a rule; that was just common sense. Besides, who was she to turn down a full-flavored bite of grass when it was right there.
In fact, the undeniable quality of grass was the detail that most made her question the value of names. The adventurers used them, and they seemed like they were quite intelligent beasts. The way they navigated the traps and fought the more fearsome creatures of the dungeon had at least convinced her of that fact. However, she had never once seen any of the adventurers eat any grass of any type. No grass at all! What kind of sensible creatures did not eat grass?
Of course, some of the predators deeper in the dungeon did not eat grass. They ate bunnies or, in some cases, the things that ate bunnies. However, she was not quite convinced that those creatures were in possession of any words and certainly not of any intelligence. She had never had much trouble using her tiny brain to come up with ways to stay safe from them. Never once had any of those terrifying creatures ever been able to harm her.
Well, that was not entirely true. She scratched at the one scar near her neck. There had been a few close calls, but considering that she did not believe herself to be a particularly physically fit member of her species, she had done very well for herself if she dared to say.
However, other than the lack of grass eating, all other evidence, or at least most other evidence, pointed to the adventurers being quite intelligent. The only conclusion she had been able to make regarding their behavior was that they filled up on grass before coming to the cave, though she found that hard to believe. One could never have enough grass after all, and sometimes the groups would stay for quite some time. Though recently, their stays had been shorter. Luckily, many more groups had been cycling in and out to make up for it, so she never had to go too long without seeing an adventurer.
The other possibility was that they had access to grass of such high caliber that they would not lower themselves, literally and figuratively, to eat the plants that made up the staple of her diet. This idea came with its own set of problems, not the least of which was that she found it insulting. What sort of creatures thought they were too good for her grass.
But she had to be willing to put her own preconceived biases and notions aside. Perhaps the grass and lichen that she normally ate was a variant of the “piss-poor excuse for beer” that some of the adventurers complained of. If they had a large supply of wine, and the difference was really that extreme, perhaps that could explain it.
Which, ultimately, was what had brought her to her unsuccessful staring match with the flower. Most of the adventurers would gather around the flowers and pick them. If the adventurers, who refused to eat a single bite of grass, became so excited over the flowers, certainly, they must taste exquisite.
At first, she thought it strange that the rule “Do not harm the blue-flowers” did not apply to the adventurers. However, after giving it more thought, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Shadowing some adventuring groups, she observed that many of the monsters seemingly followed a rule along the lines of “try to kill adventurers.” Yet, bunnies were under no such compulsion, so it stood to reason that the dungeon may have given different rules to different creatures.
Besides, whenever a group of adventurers did pick the flowers, the dungeon would wait until they left and then simply regrow them. It made her wonder why the dungeon could not let her eat the flowers and then do the same or even grow some just for her, but she was sure the dungeon had much more important things to worry about than a small little bunny.
She had locked her eyes on the flower, except when she needed to take bites of grass, of course. She was focused on the matter at paw and thought interruption unlikely. No adventurers were in the dungeon at the moment. Still, her ears were constantly pivoting on the top of her head, alert for any sign of danger. There were no predators nearby. It meant she was safe to watch the flower. Eventually, her patience would pay off.
None of the other bunnies seemed to be patient. They always hopped from one piece of grass to another. Not that there was anything wrong with hopping. She appreciated a good hop as much as the next bunny, but you could learn so much more by simply being still and paying attention.
There it was!
A stiff breeze had blown by; there was a storm on the wind. Not that she ever went past the cave exit, but she had eyes and could see as well as any other bunny when it rained outside. The water running into the cave would help refill the pool that they would drink from, but it could also drive other more dangerous creatures into the cave. It was important for a bunny who wanted to be able to stay alive to judge the weather.
This breeze had done something that she was not allowed to do. It had caused a petal to fall from the flower. The wind quickly died down, and the single beautiful petal did not go far. Cautiously, she hopped towards it.
The rule was, “Do not harm the blue-flowers.” The petal was no longer part of the flower. But… what if she was wrong? She supposed that if she were wrong, she wouldn’t be able to eat the petal. After all, rules were rules, and they could not be broken.
She reached her neck forward, grass-blade by grass-blade. Her nose reached the petal and twitched. By itself, it did not smell as strongly as the rest of the flower, but there was no denying that it smelled delicious. She understood why the adventurers always collected the flowers, though she did not know what it meant that they “captured escaping mana,” or whatever it was that the two-legs said.
Her mouth opened, and she hesitated for a moment. She wanted to forever remember this moment. She bit down, her two front teeth piercing the surface of the petal as she began to chew.
Its taste was… She did not have the words to describe it. She had never tasted anything like it before, and it defied definition by her refined palate. She wrinkled her nose for a moment; there was undoubtedly a bitter component. She understood why not all of the adventurers might like wine. “Floppy ears” and “hops too much” probably wouldn’t like it. However, she thought it was just right.
Yes, she thought, wine was quite excellent. As she savored the petal, slowly chewing it, a warmth spread through her body, along with a tingle that, just like the taste, she had never experienced before.
For a brief instant, the curious bunny thought she saw a blue light. However, when she hopped around she saw nothing. Not that she needed to hop much. The dungeon had wisely decided to put a bunny’s eyes on both sides of its head. She could almost see completely behind her without moving. Helpful, she thought, for avoiding predators.
Then she looked down at her paw, and like the light, thought for just a moment that her fur looked blue. But when she blinked, it was her normal blue color. She blinked a few more times. Obviously she had been thinking about the blue flower for far too long. A bunny might argue that it would be best to ignore them in the future. However, on the other paw there was no deciding the taste. Another bunny might scream at her if she decided to pass up on the petals. They might do that, if bunnies could talk, which they most certainly could not.
For her part, she decided that watching the flower for a fallen petal would become part of her daily routine. It would be hard to fit in. She was a busy bunny, much more so than the other bunnies. In addition to all of the grass and lichen and other plants she needed to eat, there was much she needed to think about. Perhaps she could make up her own words to better describe the new tastes she had just experienced. She was not certain if that would be allowed, but she did not see why it would not be. After all, as far as she knew, there was no rule against it. But maybe it would simply be beyond the capacity of her tiny brain. Yes, she was a very busy bunny, indeed, with so much to think about. Of course, she also needed to fit some hopping about into her schedule. It absolutely would not do to not hop at all.
As she moved away from the cave entrance in case the coming storm drove any creatures towards the shelter provided by it, she had a happy realization.
Eating the fallen petal was very obviously not against the rules.