Romans & histoires O Hare Lorax

"And you are the latest attraction." "I'm sure you are familiar with the Rodeos your kind have created to use and abuse helpless little no-furs as your sex objects. It's sort of like that." The cruel Hare in the uniform patted Guru's head and then pulled hard on his fur. "Shall we start the bidding?" "Gentlehares." The Hare started to address an audience Guru couldn't see. "This is a treat. What we have here is not only a rare Northern Forest Blonde-fur but the world-renowned Guru."

Never mind the stories- no wonder everyone avoided this place. Something moved at the edge of the clearing as she brushed himself off and Scar froze. It was a patchy, long-legged spring hare that didn’t seem to have noticed him just yet, and with luck, it wouldn’t ever. She reached for an arrow as it sat placidly munching on a tuft of new grass. The second her fingertip touched his quiver the hare bolted for its burrow. Scar cursed, took a half step toward where it had been, and then stopped. There was no point, and the animal was well shot of him by now.

When she looks down, she saw a furry creature running towards the sleeping lady and about a handful of what looks like a squirrel gathers around her bed and staring intently at the visitor in the house. “Why are they looking at us like that?” Ariadne ask. “They protect her.” “How? They are squirrels. What can they do?” As if on cue, the so called squirrels hiss at them with their jaw spread open and sharp fangs lined up horrifyingly on their gums. They look like creatures form hell with the way their eyes glow. “They are not squirrels. They are Zlokha. Sacred creature raised by my kind to protect and became companion. Like dogs but they are more vicious.”

But he still taught me what I would need to survive the process of collecting them. Some of the ingredients weren’t dangerous so much as difficult. Take the Farse Wild Hare, for example: harmless, skittish, and almost indistinguishable from common wild hares. The only difference was a subtle spiral pattern on the underside of its tail and a peculiar micro-flick of its ears every few seconds. They hid among regular hare colonies, using the herd’s numbers to make spotting them nearly impossible. Dryden had shown me how to pick them out in motion. How to watch the herd as a whole, then catch the anomaly without locking eyes—because the moment you focused, the Farse would bolt.

Arnold said pursing his lips, “Your story seems so believable Mr. Roy but……” “Look at these pictures.” Mr. Roy said interrupting him. He projected some images on the screen. Sarah's mouth hung open as she saw the lush forests. In some pictures, there were creatures too. “Wow! This is beautiful. What are those golden-brown creatures? They look so exquisite.” “They are deer. This forest is a haven for many of the species that have become extinct on the mainland. See there is a rabbit, a squirrel and those are lovely butterflies.” Mr. Roy said scrolling through the images.

Trailing the forest road, with the sound of birds chirping and rustling leaves, helped Larice channel the serenity of the environment towards her mind. But then, seconds later, she sniffed a bitter scent in the air along with the sound of men’s voices coming up ahead. Then she saw it. A campfire blazed from a long distance—with hunters sitting around, some skinning and some roasting their hunted hares. She froze, feeling rooted on the spot—her eyes wide open. Fire … It’s a damn fire …

No doubt the foxes had given her a hassle to capture them. I was pleased she had killed them before bringing them to me. I would have hated to kill them myself and get dirty hours before my coronation day. I had worked a quick spell to turn them into a cloak and had gutted Darla's belly for bringing them five seconds late. Her guts were in a jar I saved for my spells later on. I summoned one of my crows, this one is named Gore. He hated it but I rather loved the name which suited him well because of his fascination with eating corpses. Preferably dead wolves. He also loved bringing souvenirs for my spells. Wolves blood is very useful for many spells.

Guards stood alert, tension thick in their posture. “Report,” he barked. One bowed quickly. “Your Majesty… we found this near the border.” He held out a cloth-wrapped object, trembling slightly. Sebastian unwrapped it — a small forest hare, lifeless but unburnt, its fur streaked with strange crimson markings that shimmered faintly even in daylight. The same mark he had seen etched on the nursery wall moments ago. He inhaled deeply. “Magic. Ancient and foul.” The guard swallowed hard. “The patrol said the forest went silent when they found it. No birds. No movement.”

A huge fireplace glows along one wall, flames dancing behind black iron as if it might just be the entrance to hell. Leyla grabs Logan’s hand, while Lee and I follow them, listening to how Leyla lectures him on some weird facts about tarantulas, like how they can kick off microscopic hairs in your face when threatened and how females can live up to 30 years. “Want to know a secret?” he asks softly. My sister’s face lights up like a kid in a candy store, and even Lee leans in, curious. “When we were young, Jackson had a huge Goliath Birdeater as a pet. Her name was Trainer.” Odd name, I think. Lee’s brow furrows deeply.