Reader Rabbit: Wordville Soup Novels & Stories

“No.” Her voice rose suddenly. Not loud. But sharp enough to make everyone in the room stop. “I don’t remember, but I know that room.” The words were followed by silence. Heavy. Unavoidable. Lila pressed one hand against her mouth. Her eyes filled. “I know the rabbit.” Rory’s face changed. “What rabbit?” “The one in the picture.” Lila pointed with one shaking finger. “It had one ear that bent over. It was dirty. I used to hold it when they made me sit still.”

At this moment, Foxy's ears moved, and she shouted excitedly, “Look, there’s a hole here. Could it be your nest? I heard that rabbits like to dig holes. I think this must be it!” A trace of embarrassment flashed across Rabbit's face. It leaned forward and smelled carefully. Indeed, there was a scent of his family.

The dirt beneath me gives off a wet muddy odor that means the waterfalls are nearby. "Hello, Lucia. I've caught breakfast for you," Chief Wolfpaw says as he points at the other fire he built. A cooked rabbit is waiting for me and some blueberries. Not my favorite meal, but these are hard times we are in. We are living off the land until we are united again with Cody.

Evelyn crouched low, her piercing eyes tracking the small rabbit darting through the underbrush. Her wolf, Viola, growled softly in her mind. “Faster, Evelyn. That rabbit isn’t going to wait for us,” Viola urged. “I’ve got this,” Evelyn muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on the makeshift spear she had carved from a sturdy branch. The rabbit paused, ears twitching, and in that split second, Evelyn sprang forward and threw the spear at the rabbit, the spear landing squarely.

The rabbit figurine and Violet's words had torn open a wound, releasing buried memories deep within her heart. She didn't recall much, but she remembered the day the performance troupe leader, Lucas, found her. She had been on the brink of death, and had been abandoned on a small hill outside Stonebridge County. Even though it was pouring rain, her body felt as if it were being consumed by fire.

His voice had uncertainty, as if he wasn’t sure what he saw. “A bunny?” My eyes fluttered open, and my gaze went to where he was staring. He was right. There was a cute, little, fuzzy white rabbit staring at us. What was a rabbit doing in The Intertwine? It was odd. A place that was the home of monsters was also the home of an innocent bunny rabbit? How come? The little creature hopped towards me, and a low growl rumbled in Raphael’s chest. He pulled me behind him, blocking me from it.

I wandered through the aisles, running my fingers along the spines, feeling a sense of belonging I hadn't felt in a long time. I spent the whole day there, completely lost among the books, reading story after story until I lost track of time. One book caught my attention "The Adventures of Sir Flufftail" a ridiculous but absolutely hilarious story about a brave and very dramatic rabbit knight who went on quests to save stolen carrot cakes from mischievous squirrels.

To be honest, Ethan Brooks was still baffled as to why the lioness had fought with the python in the tropical rainforest, and he planned to ask the lioness where it came from after they got more familiar, but now he was surprised to find a wild rabbit outside the forest. Rabbits are very timid and usually prefer to be active at night, and they tend to hide in bushes or tall grass instead of exposing themselves in such open spaces. But now, Ethan Brooks wasn't in the mood to ponder further; he was already drooling. Spicy rabbit head, braised rabbit ribs, crispy rabbit legs, here I come!! Ethan Brooks first waved at Luna, who was following behind him, making a shushing gesture to tell her to s

It took a while, but finally, in Jane Hilton's playful tone, he said, "Then I must be battered and bruised by the architecture days." Jane Hilton burst into laughter. He started to miss John Sutton a bit, of course, and he missed his rabbit too. In reality, his "rabbit" was a golden retriever. It's just that Jane Hilton thought it would be cool if, one day, he walked down the street and suddenly exclaimed, "Rabbit, bite him!" It would be quite the scene. John Sutton, with his intellect of 360, puzzled over this for a long time and still couldn't figure out how that would be cool.

I asked. "Connect the letter with all the rabbits drawn on it. This book belongs to Grandpa. I saw it in his room." I pulled my pen from my breast pocket and took a piece of tissue, and wrote every letter that had a rabbit on it. "THEONEHURTINGMEISLORENMARAISARA"