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From: kralk@big-top.org
Newsgroups: alt.devilbunnies
Subject: Re: [STORY] Calliope Music
Followup-To: alt.devilbunnies
Date: 14 Mar 1995 11:02:08 -0700
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>        "Hush, damnit!  We'll have a bleeding lovely time explaining *this*
> away as part of the act."  Robin shook, her breath coming out in ragged
> bursts.  "Lucky I was able to dig this out of that first-aid kit in the
> closet.  Luckier still of this slop hasn't been past it's due date...
> Oh, bother!  That one burst open--"
> 
>        Robin sang.  She sang as Lawrence licked clean the edges of an
> infected abscess.  Sang as the pain crested and the healing began.
> 
>        And cried with tears of joy when the first gentle touch she'd known
> in her entire life took away the hurt.

        Robin lay on her bed, silent, as he explained the true nature of
devilbunnies.  The existence of the war between Fudd and Bun.  His own
history...  It was terrifying how much he feared telling her that chapter
in the story.  Everyone he had encountered in his journeys--save the Four
and Teral--did not understand.  They called his righteous struggle the
efforts of a madman, his methods too cruel to use.  He could always spit
at their weakling blindness.

         Not with Robin.  They shared the same pain, knew the same
agonies.  She was kindred to him--and of all things, he feared her
judgement the most.

         He told her.  She was owed no less.

         "...and that is how I came to this pass."  He shuffled his feet,
unable to meet her gaze.  "I can say nothing more."

         "Oh, Lawrence," she sighed.

         "If you wish me to leave, I will not blame you."  He retreated to
the edge of the bed.  "You have known enough of monsters without having to
care for one."

         "I don't want you to leave!"  Robin took his forepaws in her
hands.  Unmindful of his poisonous claws, she stroked them with her
thumbs.  "The bunnies who hurt you--they said you were bad.  But you
weren't, really; they only said that to make you go their way, like Beryl
does when she wants me to do something.

         "And then they hurt you, just to make you work for them.  I don't
blame you for getting mad.  Do you know what I dream, at night?  I dream
of taking Clarence's belt and hitting and slapping until he stops--"

         "Say the word, Robin."  Kralk could barely choke out the words
from a throat thick with hatred.  "Say the word, and they will die.  I
swear it."

         "No."  She shook her head.  "Promise me that you won't hurt
anybody again, as long as you and I are friends.  There's been enough hurt
for everyone--I just want it to all stop."

         "Before God, Robin, I promise.  Never again."

******

         The moon was high above the horizon as Robin slipped away from
the trailer.  Easing the door closed, she listened for a change in
Clarence's or Beryl's breathing.  Nope.  Snoring to beat the band.  Kralk
flitted past her, into the field beyond their encampment.  Robin at first
stayed on well-used paths through the snow; the crunch of her feet
breaking the crust could alert the grown-ups.

         Once away from the trailer, Robin ran with Kralk through the
untrammeled snow.  The muscles in her back burned with the effort.  It
felt different than the fiery pain of a beating--this was a clean warmth
that washed the exhaustion out of her body.  Her eyes lifted to the night
sky.  Last night, Lawrence had taught her the simpler constellations.  If
you ever get lost, he explained, use the Pole Star to find your way.
Merely look just past the Big Dipper...

         The farmhouse came into view, its windows dark and empty.  The
farmer who'd rented his land to the circus was in town for the weekend.
Robin didn't like sneaking into his home.  Being a sneak-thief was just a
little away from hurting people like Clarence and Beryl did.  Lawrence had
had to plead with her for fifteen minutes to convince her there wasn't
any other way.

         The lock to the cellar wasn't any problem.  Two nights before,
Kralk had snuck out to the farmhouse.  A quick gnaw at the wood under the
hasp and bingo!  Robin just had to giggle at the picture he'd presented to
her then, a fluffy cat-burglar all puffed up with pride.  Kralk's whisper
to "get on with it!" brought her back to the here and now.  Lifting away
the padlock, she heaved open the cellar doors.  The rank smell of rotting
earth came up to meet her.

         "Check for bags of potatoes.  A dozen or so should give us enough
for few day's worth of stew."  Kralk weaved among the shelves packed
with food.  The cellar was pretty nice, Robin thought.  Quiet, peaceful.
Like the places in her head she went to with the picture-books.

         "How do I find them?"  All the bags were burlap.  Some were
lumpy, some rattled.  All were so tightly sewn up she couldn't check what
was inside.

         "Eh?  It's written on the bags."

         Robin blushed.

         "Um.  I can't read."  Kralk stared at her in astonishment.

         "You certainly are old enough to know one of the three R's, my
dear."

         "Beryl never learned me.  Said it was a waste of time."

         "Damn."  He gritted his fangs.  "I wish you would let me
'educate' those brutes.  Thoroughly."

         "Lawrence..."

         "I know, I know.  I assure you, I am a changed ma--bun.  Well,
you look for meat while I pick out the sacks."

         They returned to the campsite with a bag of onions and potatoes;
Lawrence had been effusive with praise when she'd found that roll of
Canadian bacon hanging from the beams.  Digging into the snow, they buried
their loot in a hidey-hole excavated in a snowbank.  Filled in, their
cache of food was undetectable.

          "We leave tomorrow night."  Robin nodded, carrying Kralk back to
the animal trailer.  He yawned as she replaced him in his cage.

          "Where shall we go?  You said you can't return to UCirc as a
bunny."

          "I have...friends awaiting me in Pennsylvania.   If we have to
seperate, head for Canada and call John Chaffey at that number I wrote
out.  Get someone to dial it for you if you have trouble."

          "I hope that won't happen."

          "Neither do I, but I've found it pays to plan for
contingencies."

          Robin kissed him on the muzzle.  She crept back to the trailer
where she lived.  Holding her breath, she padded past the sleeping forms
of Clarence and Beryl.  Jumping up lightly, she slid under the covers.

          She also missed Beryl glaring at her back with angry,
calculating eyes.

TBC