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In an ancient time that is lost to memory. there lived a little golden Rabbit.
This little Rabbit lived with his family in a great meadow. He spent his carefree days hopping and playing in the sunlight, never left wanting for food or shelter or the love of his family. There was a vast and wild world outside of his meadow, but the little golden Rabbit was content to live out his entire life amongst that plentiful food and sun.
Until the day that a pack of wolves arrived in the meadow.
Their eyes were crazed, filled with a terrifying mix of fear and hunger. They tore through anything that they came across and devoured every last resident of the meadow. And then, just as suddenly as they arrived, they were gone.
But the little golden Rabbit survived.
Amidst the panic of the attack, his father hid him away in a small burrow, kicked earth over it, and led the ferocious predators as far away as he could. His final hope as the wolves caught up was that at least one of his kits would live on.
The little golden Rabbit shivered in the burrow. He'd never known fear until then. The silence was deafening and he wanted to call out for his family. But his father told him to stay there, and stay quiet, and the little golden Rabbit was an obedient son.
He didn't know how much time passed before he heard a shuffling, and a massive dark paw brushed the thin layer of dirt aside. The Rabbit's heart fell; the wolves had found him!
In an instant, the Rabbit summoned up all of his courage, and rather than tuck himself further into the burrow, he flung himself at his hunter. It was flailing and uncoordinated but he gave it everything he had and much to his surprise the predator actually shuffled backward in shock!
Any celebration was short-lived, however. A massive paw pressed down on his back, holding him in place, and he braced himself for the end.
But the face looking down on him was distinctly feline, not canine.
What's more, he felt no sting of claws from the paw on his back.
"Tch, what do you think you're doing, little one?"
The helpless Rabbit could only answer truthfully, "I thought you were one of the wolves."
The newcomer let the Rabbit go, saying, "Did you think you could defeat even one wolf?"
The Rabbit shook his head, "I didn't want to die as a coward."
He finally dared to lift his head and get a good look at the other creature. It was a Leopard many times his size, big enough to gobble him up in a single bite.
"You are clearly no coward. But, courage or no, you will perish if you stay here." The Leopard lay down in the grass. "If you are willing to trust me, get on my back, and I will take you somewhere safe."
If this Leopard wanted to eat the Rabbit, he would not waste time conversing. And the Rabbit's options were few. He was still small, and still completely reliant on his family. He didn't doubt that he faced a slower death alone than what the Leopard might have in store for him.
So he did as instructed, and the Leopard took him to a rocky but warm den hidden on the lower slopes of the mountains. It was the first time he'd been anywhere but his meadow and he was fearful. The hard stones of the cave were little comfort. Nonetheless, he was asleep within minutes of being let off of the Leopard's back.
When the Rabbit woke alone, he wondered if the Leopard was real at all. Had he somehow gotten up here all by himself?
A shadow appeared at the mouth of the cave.
It was too tall to be the Leopard. It entered the cave on two legs instead of four and was clad in brilliant colors, and in what should have been its front paws were a few bundles of delicious-looking grasses and greens. But though the sight of the food set his empty stomach rumbling, it was not enough to ease his fear of this odd being.
It eyed the Rabbit in silence before realization dawned on its face.
"That's right, you haven't seen this form yet. My mistake."
With those words, the creature seemed to shift and darken, lowering to the ground… and before the Rabbit was sure what happened he was looking at the familiar shape of his savior, the Leopard.
"You can change shape?" The Rabbit asked in admiration.
"I can."
"That's amazing!" For a moment it was like all of his ordeals were forgotten… truly just a cub.
"It's nothing that special," the cat replied with bemusement. "Any amongst us spiritual beings can learn how to cultivate and build this ability. It's just that human form is more convenient for some things." Here he gestured with his paw to the pile of gathered greens. “Like getting you those.”
“Can you teach me?”
“To change from a leopard into a human, and to change from a rabbit into a human… these are very different things. You will have to find your own path.”
Ears wilting somewhat, the Rabbit replied, “Oh.”
The Leopard laid down at the cave entrance and kept a vigilant watch outside as the Rabbit dejectedly began to nibble at the greens.
His family were all returned to the earth. As he was but a lone rabbit, he could not do anything to avenge them. But as a human? Perhaps. They were stranger-looking than he expected from the tales the older rabbits told him, but from those same tales, he knew that even the fiercest of predators was wary of humans.
The Rabbit had to find a way to get the Leopard to instruct him.
A few quiet days passed like this until one morning, the Rabbit awoke to terror.
Just a hair’s breadth away from him was the long snout of a pure white Wolf. It was sniffing him curiously.
In a panic, the little Rabbit dealt a kick to its large black nose with his hind legs… and when the surprised creature drew back he took the chance and ran for his life. He dodged between the wolf’s paws, turning on a dime, and bolted for the cave mouth. His Leopard savior was nowhere to be seen, much to his dismay. So he did the only thing he could think of.
He fled into the woods.
Yet as he ran he heard no sound of pursuit coming from behind him, no panting and gnashing of teeth like those beasts that overran his meadow. The only thing he heard was a long, drawn-out, strangely melodic howl that pierced the moonlit air.
The Rabbit still dared not slow down, dared not stop until he found himself coming out of the forest and his legs were giving out.
He’d been heading uphill at a steady rate. Without the cover of the trees, the wind stung his long ears and he shivered. There was no shelter in sight. Only the thin wisps of snow being blown over barren rocks.
The Rabbit didn’t know his way back to the cave from this place. Not that he could go back now that the wolves had caught up to him. Nor did he know where the Leopard, his only lifeline, went to.
Huddled beside a rock he tried to keep out of the wind, and silently apologized to his father.
Even behind his closed eyes, the world seemed to darken. A shadow was forming over him. Was this it?
The tumultuous air went still. The Rabbit dared to peek and his eyes went wide.
The creature before him was of impossibly colossal proportion. It did not touch the ground but it did not fly as birds did; instead, it seemed to be commanding the air to hold still around it. Scale-lined nostrils descended a bit and let out a puff of steamy breath. The ears and horns reminded the Rabbit of a deer, but instead of brown, these horns were crystalline, reflecting and refracting moonlight much as a clear stream would, producing a myriad of impossible colors. It was long and covered in shimmering scales like a serpent but massive with a set of front and hind legs. Each claw was bigger than the Rabbit himself.
Perhaps the fear had driven him completely mad… but the trembling Rabbit thought to himself that even in the golden meadows he had never seen something so beautiful.
The air rumbled as it spoke, “Why does such a small thing trespass in my domain?”
The Rabbit tried not to look at those terrible teeth. “Forgive me. I got lost.”
“Something like you cannot survive here. Perhaps I should just eat you.” Did it sound… amused?
Lowering his head to the ground the Rabbit replied, “Surely, I would not be a satisfying meal to one as large as you.”
A puff of hot breath from the creature’s nostrils again, almost like a laugh. “You would just get stuck in my teeth. But I must ask you while you still live, Rabbit. How did you manage to reach this place?”
“I… I just ran here.”
The air vibrated as the majestic creature growled; low and deep within its throat, and not out of malice but out of ponderance. “This mountain is sacred; a haven for many spirits. To cross the barriers and pass by its guardians, I believe, is beyond a scrawny, tiny, weak thing like you.”
The Rabbit didn’t know how to answer. He’d not known the importance of the mountain he’d spent the past few days on. He merely sat still as the creature moved its nostrils ever closer and took in a large sniff.
“I see.” It said as it drew back, looking down the slope of the mountain. “I see who I have to thank for this now.” It let loose a puff of short breath into the air.
“Please, don’t be angry with my Master!”
Its gaze flashed back to the Rabbit, “Your Master?”
It was a fib, yes, since the Leopard refused over and over to instruct him-- but the Rabbit spoke on impulse. He didn’t want to inadvertently incur the wrath of this sublime but terrifying being upon his savior.
The creature stared at him for a long time and said nothing.
Then it curled itself up into a series of coils resting on the snow and extended its tail out in the Rabbit’s direction. Despite being scaly over the rest of its body there was a prismatic tuft of fur right near the end that extended all the way along its spine.
“You best stay with me until your Master finds you unless you’re keen on freezing to death.”
Without hesitation, the Rabbit hopped up and let the tail guide him to a small space between the coils. The serpentine creature’s body heat was far warmer than even the cave below, and he soon fell asleep under the watch of this otherworldly being.
There was a conversation taking place, stirring him to awareness. The large creature coiled around him was speaking. “Perhaps I have seen it. Perhaps I haven’t.”
“The scent trail ends right here,” a familiar voice insisted. The Leopard!
“Perhaps I ate it and forgot.”
A low growl from the Leopard. The Rabbit began hopping along with those massive scales and looking for a place where he could show himself.
“What is your problem, hm? There are plenty of rabbits in the world. Just go get another one.”
In his eagerness the Rabbit managed to get atop one of the coils and raised his ears high, brightening as he saw the familiar feline standing not too far away. Yet the wind was still strong up on the mountain. It pushed him just enough to lose his balance and tumble right off of the large creature and into the snow. But the fall didn’t dampen his spirits. He ran right over to the Leopard and began to hop around its paws, nudging the cat’s legs with his head in a happy greeting.
“You are unharmed?” the Leopard inquired with a sigh, the tension gone from its voice.
The Rabbit still did not know how to address the ethereal one, so he merely said, “Elder looked after me.”
The Leopard seemed taken aback by this and looked toward the other for confirmation, but none came. The lithe creature was already taking to the air.
“A piece of advice,” it said to the Leopard, “if you are determined to take other beings under your tutelage, try to keep a better eye on them.”
Though his gaze was transfixed on the serpentine creature flying away from them toward the mountain peak, the Rabbit still flinched under the accusatory look of the Leopard and dared not say a word.
After a long sigh, the Leopard said, “I suppose you got your wish after all then.”
The Rabbit perked up and dared to hope.
“Your first lesson will be to keep up with me all the way back to the cave.”
Though his muscles were still tired and heavy, the Rabbit’s heart felt light enough to make up for it.
The sun had risen over the slope when they arrived back at their earthy home. The Rabbit was behind by a good bit, though the Leopard made sure to stay just within sight the entire way.
Only then, without any breath or strength left in his entire body was he reminded of why he’d fled in the first place.
A white blur flew from the cave entrance and went right for the Leopard.
Yet there was no flurry of teeth and claws, no snarls or roars. The wolf’s tail was swinging back and forth so hard the motion shook its entire back half. It kept low to the ground as it whined and licked around the Leopard’s jaw and the latter just stood there and endured it with the occasional twitch of his tail. Now and then it’d try to pull its head back a little, but the Wolf just pursued.
The Rabbit was baffled. He was too tired to run but even so, he wasn’t sensing any danger given the lack of aggression from the Wolf and the nonchalant reactions of the Leopard.
“It’s all right,” the Leopard called out. “This one is a friend.”
The Wolf paused in his affectionate gestures to take a couple of cautious steps toward the Rabbit. “Sorry to have frightened you so badly, little one.”
“You need not fear him,” said the Leopard when he saw the Rabbit's hesitation. “This Wolf runs with no pack.”
Nudging the Leopard’s muzzle with his own, the Wolf replied, “You are the only pack I need.”
Though he trusted the Leopard fully by now and his fear was starting to scatter, something instinctive was still holding the Rabbit back. And yet… the longer he looked at this Wolf the less it resembled the creatures he saw in his meadow. It was nearly twice as big as any one of the mangy beasts and its fur was a brilliant sleek white, not grey like the invaders were. Their eyes were filled with madness-- there was calmness, coolness, and intelligence behind the pair looking upon the Rabbit now.
So the more he thought, the less his mind connected this creature with those that slaughtered his family.
It took some time for the Rabbit to trust the white Wolf as much as the Leopard… but seeing his Master’s trust in the Wolf helped to speed that along. During this time the Wolf kept a respectful distance from the little Rabbit. He always let the little one approach on his own.
The Rabbit came to learn that the Wolf was much like his Master; he too could take on human form.
Through that same conversation, the Rabbit learned that the creature he met on top of the mountain was like them too-- and that he was called a Dragon.
This gave the Rabbit hope that he, too, could accomplish what they had.
Lucky for him the Wolf was a lot more talkative than the Leopard. He seemed to have no problem sitting there for hours on end and answering every little question that the Rabbit had. It didn’t matter how trivial it was. The Wolf taught him of the unfamiliar plants and the trees, the birds that flew above, and the other beasts of the forest. And most importantly, he taught the Rabbit how to tell at a single glance which were mere dumb beasts and which were like themselves.
When the Leopard wasn't sleeping or away, he put the Rabbit through rigorous lessons in speed and observation. He would swipe and snap at the Rabbit, encourage him to dodge, and show him where to kick to best defend himself from predators. He taught the Rabbit to treat his steps less like anchors to the earth and more like the flow of wind or water, each moving into the next, and how to adjust that flow at a moment’s notice with a twist of his body or a shift of his weight.
As he grew more confident he asked again how he might learn to change forms as they did.
The Wolf suggested that he begin learning more about humans, and a good way to do that would be to take him on a visit to a human settlement at the base of the mountain. They could take on their human forms and carry the Rabbit in their arms.
But the Leopard objected. “Absolutely not.”
“How is he supposed to take on the form of something he’s never seen?” The Wolf asked his packmate with a laugh in his voice, "Come on, what harm could it do?”
“And if humans skilled in cultivation detect what we are?”
The Wolf showed off a flash of his white teeth, “Then we can take care of them ourselves.”
Not terribly long ago this kind of display might have made the Rabbit shrink back or seek closer proximity to the Leopard. But trust had grown and he felt no fear for himself… only a faint nudge of worry, drowned out by a storm of curiosity. He longed to see what these creatures were like.
The Leopard deadpanned, “The idea is not to draw unnecessary attention.”
Speaking up, the Rabbit nudged his head against the Leopard's leg, "Master… please? I want to learn."
He'd learned a trick rather early on-- the Leopard struggled to deny him a request when he stared up at him with wide eyes and let his ears wilt just a little.
Soon enough the trio was on their way.
The Leopard, in human form, eyed the Wolf’s chosen form up and down and sighed with exasperation.
“It’s supposed to be a disguise.”
Preening the front strands of his hair the changed Wolf replied, “I think it’s rather good. Don’t you like it?”
With a feral sound that hinted at his true nature, the Leopard snapped back, “You stick out like a peacock among chickens.”
“Hah! What’s got you in such a sweet mood that you’re praising me so?”
Dully, “It’s not a compliment.”
Though he knew precious little about humans, the Rabbit knew at a glance that these forms of theirs could scarcely be more different.
The Leopard’s form was dressed in worn and torn cloth and speckled with dirt and mud; his hair wild and unkempt with patches of short stubbly whiskers upon his face. In contrast, the Wolf wore pristine red and white that hurt one’s eyes to look at, his face smooth and flawless behind his odd folded paper.
The Leopard seemed to give up, asking, “You’re determined to look like that?”
The Wolf chuckled, “I want to look as good as possible for you.”
Letting out a heavy sigh of resignation, the Leopard shook his head, adjusted the small Rabbit in his arms, and proceeded into the human settlement.
Soon the Leopard’s choice of form made sense to the Rabbit. He saw many humans that looked similar to this, and for the most part, the other humans paid them little mind. They would sometimes pass them by without even looking at them, whereas many eyes stopped upon the Wolf and those who looked more like him.
As they made their way into the settlement, the group was more boxed in with every step forward. One or two or three humans and buildings here and there multiplied, thickened, and turned into crowds and rows. Though made of wood that smelled familiar, these structures around them were built into unnatural shapes.
“Ah, what a plump little rabbit! How much are you selling it for, Uncle?”
“He’s not for sale.”
Another offer came from the opposite side of them, “Uncle, what if I offer to pay you double what she’s offering?”
“Are you all deaf? Did you not hear my friend here?” The Wolf’s grin betrayed his true nature as he laughed. “Our little Rabbit is not for sale.”
Though the Rabbit understood so precious little of humans, he knew enough to understand that these humans were trying to offer his Master things in exchange for him, and he could guess what they would want him for. He felt no fear, though he did press a little closer to his Master’s body.
The Wolf noticed him and whispered, “Don’t worry. Your Master isn’t going to hand you over for anything,” turning his nose up, “let alone some dirty human coins.”
The Leopard made a ‘tch’ sound in warning, “None of that talk here.”
His grin didn’t fade but the Wolf obeyed.
The time passed by in peace for the Rabbit while he did his best to learn.
Now and then his guardians would take him into another human settlement. It was rare that they visited the same one twice. The Leopard seemed wary of being seen too often by humans. More often than not the other two would have to pester him to make these visits.
The Wolf was another story; he did not fear them, but rather he viewed them as simpler creatures. When he spoke of them it sounded similar to the way he spoke of the dumb witless beasts that he preyed upon.
They did not question his drive to take on that form, however. Rather they seemed to understand without being told.
After each visit he would sit by himself for a while and try his best to visualize himself taking on that form-- walking upon two legs, working with those highly dexterous front paws to use one of those sharp pieces of metal. And each time the images grew clearer.
And over that time, the Rabbit came to learn about the great Dragon that lived above them.
So ancient was this being that no one living could remember when he first came to the mountain. When the Leopard and the Wolf came to live here there had only been one Dragon, but the very eldest among the spiritual beings told of a time when there were two Dragons at the mountaintop-- the one they knew, snow-white and with scales that gleamed like moonlight, and the other a lustrous silver-black.
One day long ago, someone took notice that only the white Dragon ever flew around the peak anymore. No one could be certain what happened; they could only be sure that from that moment on, the silver-black Dragon was never sighted again.
No one that dared ask the snow-white dragon ever got a definitive answer besides a bitter:
“He is gone.”
To have those you care for there one day and gone the next while the world moves on… the Rabbit could understand that part. Utter solitude for so long was something he could not fathom.
He had his Master and the Wolf, but the Dragon? He was completely alone.
The Rabbit was sensible enough to wait for a clear, relatively warm morning when the air was still to go up the mountain again.
The ground was still snowy this high up, and the air was bright. But all of it seemed to dim in comparison when the Dragon took notice of what was approaching his peak and swooped down.
He circled from above a couple of times and though his movements through the air were swift and his form massive, they did not disturb the fine powdery snow on the ground below him. The Rabbit could only look on in awe. The Dragon’s smooth scales were even more impossibly dazzling in the sunlight. His narrowed eyes did not leave the smaller being.
“Lost again? Just how irresponsible is that Master of yours?” There was a sharp, displeased edge to the Dragon’s voice.
The Rabbit replied, “I’m not lost, I… I came here on purpose to see you.”
“What for?”
“I thought you might be feeling lonely.”
The Dragon let out a rumbling, mirthless laugh. “You waste your time. Run back to your Master.”
Yet, the Rabbit was undeterred. “My Master says you’ve been all alone up here for a really, really long time. Don’t you ever want someone to talk to?”
Bluntly, “No.”
“We don’t have to talk, then!” The Rabbit’s tone remained bright and hopeful. “I’ll stay quiet and just sit with you for a while.”
“I see you’ve been spending too much time around that insufferable Wolf.”
Though the Dragon grumbled, he still coiled himself upon the snow in a circle around the golden Rabbit, who hopped over to snuggle up close to the Dragon’s warm scales. There were so many things he wanted to ask-- about the mountain, about the other creatures that lived here, and about the silver-black dragon that disappeared so long ago-- but for now, he just sat silently and enjoyed the other’s company.
After many such visits, usually made when the Wolf and the Leopard were off hunting, the Dragon would let the Rabbit ask one or two questions before lifting off from the ground and flying away. The moment he pried too much or asked something the Dragon did not want to answer, he would find himself left alone in the snow. He’d have to accept defeat and head back to the cave.
Eventually, the Rabbit asked about the secrets of shape-shifting.
“All I can impart is this: the image in your mind must be as clear as if it were standing before you,” the Dragon explained. “Then, you extend your spiritual energy into that shape. You must let go of how you currently envision yourself and commit to the new shape. The rest is up to you.”
It wasn’t too different from what the Leopard and Wolf told him, really, but he inquired, “Can you take the shape of a human, as well?”
“I can.”
Though the Rabbit suspected that any shape this Dragon took would be beautiful, he was still brimming with curiosity. “May I see?”
“I’ll tell you what. Once you have mastered the art of shape-shifting and can take human form yourself, come to me in that shape and I will show you.”
A bit puzzled, “How will you know that it’s me?”
“Normal humans cannot trespass on this mountain. Besides, I know your smell.”
The instructions were so simple in words but the opposite in execution.
The Rabbit had help, at least. In addition to the trio’s visits to human settlements, the Wolf procured for him some sheets of paper that contained detailed illustrations of the human form. He studied and meditated upon these as much as he could when the Leopard wasn’t busy teaching him other things.
The first couple of attempts went awry when the strange sensations of the transformation broke his concentration, snapping him back into his natural shape.
After a full cycle of the seasons and countless more tries, just when the Rabbit thought he finally achieved a fully human shape, the laughter of the Wolf indicated to him that he failed.
But, where had he gone wrong?
Testing his form he flexed each finger one at a time, then each toe, rotated each limb along its joints, felt for the accuracy of his facial features, and then slid the hands back into his hair--
Oh! His ears!
Somehow he’d completely forgotten about his ears and now he looked a right mess, fully human with the exception of two huge, furry, golden-brown ears that stuck up on each side of his skull. They were so long that even with his arm extended all the way up he could just reach their tips.
“That’s not all,” the Leopard pointed out. He was not laughing but amusement lingered on the edge of his tone as he indicated with a paw.
The Rabbit looked over his shoulder and sighed to see his fluffy tail still there as well, also forgotten.
The Leopard must have seen the look in his eyes, for he gave voice to the fear creeping into the Rabbit’s mind and reassured, “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to shift back after a bit. The imbalance this form causes has disrupted the flow of your spiritual energy, but it will right itself.”
Feeling as though he looked ridiculous, and embarrassed to have failed so spectacularly in front of his role model, the Rabbit’s ears wilted backward. “How long, Master?”
The answer was blunt. “It depends.”
When all the Rabbit did was let out a sigh, the Wolf interjected, “The best thing you can do is relax. Stressing about it will only slow your recovery.”
The only thing the Rabbit could do was sit back, wait, and endure the humiliation.
The day came at last when the Rabbit stood victorious on two legs. His human form had been perfected.
This seemed such an unattainable goal to him when he first began. His excitement was immeasurable in turn and he was filled with the urge to jump for joy.
He fell flat on the cave floor.
“I hope you did not think you were done yet,” the Leopard spoke above the Wolf’s laughter. “Get up.”
The Rabbit was still dazed. “Master?”
“So strict, ah, so strict.” The Wolf sighed. “At least praise him for finally getting the form right, your tone of voice moves me to pity him.”
With a hint of a growl the Leopard shot back, “And what good is a form if all it makes him is easy prey? Are you his Master or am I? Keep your opinions to yourself.” His attention turned to the Rabbit and he nudged the transformed creature with his rough paws. “Up.”
While they conversed above him the Rabbit came to the dismaying realization that changing his shape alone was not enough. He would need to learn how to use the shape too. Trying to move made him keenly aware of how different his center of gravity was. He grew accustomed to the lankiness, the strange shape of the paws, and the difference in his field of vision. None of those flawed transformations however lasted long enough for him to get used to moving around.
Two other sets of human hands took him and hoisted him back up. The Rabbit looked to see both of his caretakers in their human forms helping him to balance. The Wolf stepped back and then draped something around his body that was heavy and scratchy but bracing against the cold air in the cave. He clung onto it for solemn comfort as the Leopard said, “You still have a long path ahead of you.”
Back when the little Rabbit had first been brought here from what remained of his meadow he was foolish enough to seek his own version of comfort and gentleness from his Master. These days, he knew better.
The Wolf once explained it by saying the Leopard was very soft-hearted deep down and only his exterior was cold. It made little sense to the Rabbit then. But in moments like these, when his Master helped him back to his feet and let him lean as he took his first cautious steps… the Rabbit could see it clearly.
He was cared for. He was safe.
He could keep on going.
The Rabbit thought it enough of a trial just to take on this form.
What waited for him on the other side of that landmark was so much more grueling.
The Leopard pressed him to stay in that form for as long as he could manage and to take it on again as soon as his energy was restored. He did not let the Rabbit waste any time, making him walk back and forth and practice picking up heavier and heavier things.
The aches and pains from those first few days were overwhelming. Even when resting in his natural form every muscle screamed out in protest.
Time marched on and his pains subsided. He grew strong enough to stand, walk, and then run on his own. He could hold his human form for days at a time, dress it, and even walk between his caregivers when they went to human settlements without them having to worry about him. They taught him how to carry things with him in between forms to make things like dressing and arming oneself even easier.
Before long the Rabbit was spending more time as a human than in his original shape.
Now that it was not so alien to him, the Rabbit considered forays into human culture to be an exceptional amount of fun. He delighted in seeing the myriad of objects that the humans bought and sold and traded with each other. If he could identify something and its use he patted himself on the back; if he could not he quite enjoyed speculating what the purpose of the object was.
One day, in a market, something inspiring occurred.
The Leopard was busy at a stall that sold jugs of the sharp-smelling stuff he often bought when the Wolf took the Rabbit aside and showed him an object while asking in haste, “What do you think, is it good?”
The Rabbit looked it over. It just looked like a stick to him at first glance yet it was carved smooth as a river stone. On one end it came to a point and on the other it was skillfully shaped into a canine figure in mid-howl. It took the Rabbit a moment before he reached clarity: this was a type of ornamentation that humans often wore atop their heads. The Wolf often did so. The Leopard, however, did not decorate himself as much. He might look nicer if he did. Thus the Rabbit nodded back with vigor.
Later that evening when the Wolf presented the Leopard with it and slipped it into his packmate’s hair, the Rabbit saw the way his Master tried to hide his beaming smile… and then he was sure of his next errand.
When the Rabbit went up the mountain to show off the mastery of his new form he was greeted with only a silent field of snow. The moon was out in full, brightening the land with an ethereal softness that could not be found in sunlight.
He turned his gaze to the peak itself, the skies around it, but saw no Dragon…
Something tapped his shoulder and the Rabbit startled, turning around and pulling back from the touch.
One look into the eyes told the Rabbit this was no human and that it could perceive the Rabbit was not either. He was dressed in brilliant white from head to toe in layers that caught and fluttered in a nonexistent breeze. Even his hair was the same shade as the snow surrounding them. Could it be?
The ‘stranger’ smirked at him, “I told you that I would know it was you.”
The Rabbit could only stare. However awe-inspiring he pictured this form in his head his imagination was lacking. No other human he had seen could hold a candle to this.
It was the hint of annoyance passing across the transformed Dragon’s face that made the Rabbit remember himself and perform a graceful bow and salute.
“Many thanks to Elder for allowing this one such an honor,” he said the words he had practiced in a nervous rush, trying not to stumble over them.
The Dragon gave the Rabbit’s human form another glance up and down and then nodded with approval. “Those two didn’t do the worst job with you it seems.”
Swallowing hard, “I-I brought Elder a gift.”
“Gift?” He just raised a brow.
Reaching into his clothes the Rabbit pulled out a small wooden box, opened it, and presented it. Inside the box was a hairpin made of white jade with one end carved into the likeness of the lithe and beautiful Dragon.
The Dragon did not smile like his Master did. The Leopard brightened up from the gift… but the Dragon’s mind seemed to drift to some faraway place, and he did not take the box from the Rabbit’s hands. If he still had his long ears he did not doubt they would be wilting backward.
“I have not visited the human world in so long, I have lost count of the seasons passed.” The Dragon’s gaze flitted back to the Rabbit for a moment. “I have no use for such a thing.”
Defeated, he withdrew the gift. He shifted his feet and withdrew the fingers that kept the box held open. It fell shut with a soft but echoing sound.
The Dragon turned and moved some steps away, staring off into the empty sky. Silence reigned over the peak of the sanctuary. After some time during which the Rabbit wondered if he should just give up and return to the cave the Dragon lowered and tilted his head to give the Rabbit a sidelong look past his shoulder.
Prey instinct kicked the Rabbit’s senses into gear when he felt the powerful being’s gaze resting on him, studying him.
“Do you happen to know why those wolves came to your meadow?” the Dragon inquired.
The Rabbit did not answer.
The ancient one’s voice was like ice. “They were driven out of their hunting grounds by humans.”
“I… I-I don’t understand,” the Rabbit stammered at length. “Why?”
The Dragon let out a ‘hmph’ and shifted form to take to the skies once more, “Don’t you have a Master to pose such questions to?”
Neither the Leopard nor the Wolf prodded the Rabbit about why he returned to them with a dejected look on his face. Without looking at either he set the hairpin-box on one of the large rocks, shifted back to his natural form, and buried himself in his straw bed.
He could hear the other two speaking to each other in low tones but could not make out their words. The Leopard sounded nonchalant, but the Wolf spoke with a sneer.
The sound of four paws moving him changed into only two. Lifting his head somewhat, the Rabbit could see his Master in his human form picking up the wooden box to look inside-- and then his Master’s surprised eyes met his own and he asked, “You brought the Dragon… this?”
The little golden Rabbit wiggled deeper into the straw. If he could have, he would have buried himself right into the rock walls of the cavern.
Soon enough the voice of the Wolf joined in, defensive, “My dearest packmate… I did not encourage this, I had no part in it. Please do not always assume the worst of me.” Though the Rabbit could not see them from behind the bedding and his own closed eyes he could sense the disapproving scowl his Master was casting in the Wolf’s direction.
"He did not accept it." The Leopard’s words were directed at the Rabbit, more a statement than a question.
The Rabbit remained still and silent, only hearing the Leopard's sigh.
The Wolf growled.
The Leopard was quick to rebuke him, “None of that. The Dragon is our Elder and deserves our respect.”
“If we are going from age alone, I should respect the stones on this mountain as my Elders instead of him,” the Wolf replied with a snort.
Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, the Leopard ignored this and turned his attention back to his downcast pupil. “Come out of there.”
The Rabbit did not obey.
Firmer, “Come out.”
All of the frustration with himself had built up to this point. The Rabbit could hold it in no longer and struck his back feet against the cave wall, and a thud echoed through the enclosed space. It was the first tantrum he dared to have in the open in front of his Master.
And it was not taken well.
The Rabbit felt a pinch on the scruff of his neck and he was plucked from the straw pile with minimal effort. “I would ask who taught you to be so audacious if I did not already have a good guess.”
In a rare moment of prudence, the Wolf remained quiet.
The Leopard, still in his human shape but with his sharp eyes intimidating as ever, faced down the pupil that he was dangling in one hand and said, “Practice until dawn-- perhaps that will get this out of your system and then you can speak about this properly.”
The miserable Rabbit was thus tossed outside of the cave to follow his Master’s instruction, a shower of loose straw trailing behind him.
Far, far above them all, the Dragon circled his peak and contemplated with bitter reminiscence.
This encounter had been like someone tore away a thick scab and let his wounds bleed anew. Memories resurfaced against his will no matter how he pressed down.
Memories of his fellow Dragon.
The Black Dragon that in ancient times completed his circles around the peak of the mountain alongside him in perfect sync, their own variation of a dance older than time. Together they were Balance itself.
The Black Dragon that was everything he was not; who greeted visitors rather than ignored them, who often stared at the horizon in wonder rather than focus on the sacred peak they protected.
The Black Dragon that left the peak behind to mingle with humans and left the White Dragon with only half of his soul.
Why, why? The question haunted him. Why did any of their kind bother with humans? Was his company not enough?
These days the humans no longer traveled to the mountain. In a time that lived only in legends and children's stories among their kind, the White Dragon sealed it away from intruders. Over the years more and more spiritual creatures took up residence on the slopes. Some were seeking shelter, some solitude, some both. As long as they did not disturb the Dragon who lived alone on the summit they would not be driven out.
And then that damned Leopard came around. He seemed the type to keep to himself and drove away any others that came too close. The Dragon never thought he would be the one to bring such troublesome creatures around.
But now he's done it twice!
He had half a mind to go down and chase the lot of them off the mountain. Rid himself of the menace forever.
Though, while the Leopard was respectful but distant and the Wolf was irritating and smug, the Rabbit made him such a sincere offer of companionship. One not even the Black Dragon had extended to him despite the intertwined nature of their relationship, despite neither of them able to recall their lives before the other’s presence in it.
He wondered often during these lonely centuries if he extended the offer himself the Black Dragon would have taken it, or if instead he would have disappeared sooner.
He had no wish to dwell upon this.
As much as the Rabbit wanted to wallow, it was too difficult to focus on both being miserable and practicing moves at once. By the time the sun was rising his head cleared up along with the mountain fog.
He’d thought it a punishment but it was his Master being kind in his own way.
The Rabbit made his way back to the cave, ready to collapse into his straw pile. The Wolf and the Leopard were nowhere to be seen. Fresh food was laid out for him but he was alone.
It was not unusual for the two to leave the Rabbit alone here. Sometimes they would be gone for more than a full day, but they always kept a habit of telling him when they did so. This time? Not a word. The Rabbit saw nothing out of place and could smell no strange or alarming scents, so there was no reason to be worried. They were strong and almost certainly together.
Ignoring the food for now, he laid down and stretched out to think… now that he could.
The Rabbit was so excited when he picked out that gift. He could have never imagined that it would end up offending the Dragon so badly. Surely the sublime being thought of him as little more than an imbecile now. Well, he had every right to. He was offered a rare privilege and he had all but spat on it.
All he could think to do was apologize. If the Dragon were to accept-- well, he was coming to terms with the fact that it was the best thing he could hope for anymore.
In the absence of anyone that would scold him for it, a weak little ‘thump’ echoed through the lonely cave.
It felt as if he only had shut his eyes for a second when the Rabbit awoke to the sound of voices.
“--why I knew letting you come along was a mistake,” the Leopard was growling.
As the two entered, the Rabbit could see that the Leopard’s ears were pinned back, tail swinging violently. In contrast, the Wolf’s ears stood upright and his nose was tilted up, and his voice sounded tense as he answered, “I refuse to let that old snake talk to my packmate however he pleases.”
Old snake?
Leaping up onto one of his higher perches, the Leopard reminded him, “You said you would behave. It would have been a simple matter.”
“It hardly seems fair that I am expected to hold my tongue in the presence of one so rude. Furthermore, nothing is ever simple with that one. ”
“You held back neither your tongue or your teeth,” the Leopard sounded more tired than angry by this point. “Against a being that can swallow you whole.”
The Wolf snorted. “I have no fear of overgrown snakes.”
“You have no sense, either.”
A teasing tone crept into the Wolf’s voice. “I never claimed to.”
The only response was a low feline growl.
All the while they bickered, and all the while the Rabbit felt a growing dread. He had to act, he had to do something.
Long ago he learned better of interfering when these particular two jabbed at each other like this. If he got involved he was more often than not weaponized somehow, and if he let it alone they would be curled up and grooming one another in peace within the day.
No, he would go and make his apologies-- and theirs for them-- before things got any worse.
As the Rabbit ran off up the slope, the Wolf made a move to follow, but the Leopard leapt down and held him back. “It’s none of our business at this point. We’ve already gotten more involved than we should have.”
The trek up to the peak felt so much longer than usual. The Rabbit moved without haste but his heart was pounding.
It could be the very last time he ascended this peak.
His good intentions did nothing but cause problems. It could be that the best thing for it was to just leave the Dragon be, no matter how it made his heart ache to see him circling in those cold, lonesome skies.
He stayed in his natural form all the way up into the snowfields as his thick fur did better to bolster him against the mountain chill but he still shivered like a hairless newborn. The higher he went the more the swirling winds cut right through to his skin. Only once had he felt cold like this before; the night he got lost in this very field and came face-to-face with a being so ethereal that he found himself captivated.
Each time he returned after that the air was calmer. Smoother.
Yet tonight it was empty. Only sky, snow, and peak.
The Rabbit’s ears drooped. Could the Dragon have gotten fed up with them enough to leave?
His keen peripheral vision caught something. A flash of movement. His long ears perked back up despite the sting of the cold and swiveled, but no sound accompanied it. The Rabbit pinpointed it to a shadow along the face of a rock wall-- upon a better look, a cave. But what lived up here besides the Dragon? The wind was making it impossible to catch any kind of scent.
Curiosity urging him forward, the Rabbit crossed the rest of the snowfield and approached the cave.
Just inside, the Rabbit was met with a wall of stacked timbers. He knew the look of human-made shelters enough to recognize them in an instant, and this was most certainly one. But a few things stood out. One being that this was built into the rock, so high up on a mountain that humans never approached. Another being that it was in a highly decayed state. The wood was splintered and broken in places, deformed in others. The most notable of these things to the Rabbit, however, was that in the spots he could still make them out, the carvings depicted dragons.
The Rabbit shifted into human form; his natural form was far too small and his paws too clumsy to work the mechanism that opened the door.
Another downside of this form, one that he would have to correct, was that his eyes did not adjust as quickly to darkness. He could tell that he was in a corridor with a stone floor. It had probably been smooth once but the Rabbit could feel cracks beneath his boots.
Outside, the wind howled.
In places the ceiling was made of natural stone but in others, man-made materials filled in the gaps. Some of this material had weathered away and let in thin strips of moonlight. Powdery snow drifted in from both visible and invisible cracks in the structure and shimmered when they met with the beams of light.
The amount of light varied as he wandered along, marveling at the intricacies of carved wood and stone. When he could see it well enough the Rabbit was sure this had once been a grand place. When he could not it felt like a tomb.
Eventually, the walls he was feeling along fell away. He was coming into an open chamber just as a cloud passed between the mountain and the moon and left him in near-total darkness.
The Rabbit kept his head about him, however. Patting along his robes he felt for the little slips of paper his Master gave him. He could do little more with them but spark up a small fire yet but it would be all he needed.
When it came to life he knew he didn’t have long and scanned his surroundings. The walls of this chamber were wide enough that his flame could not reach. What it did reach, however, was a rather large brazier just a few steps away, and he held the burning paper to the wood with haste.
Both warmth and light flooded the chamber, and the Rabbit found himself breathless.
Before him was a carved mural of massive proportion, blazing and brilliant under the firelight. All around the edges were symbols far beyond his comprehension; both of the kind that were used for writing, and even more vague and arcane ones that resembled flowers or waves or even birds.
All of this surrounded two awe-inspiring dragons; one black and one white, circling around one another, perfectly mirrored, with precious stones for scales and blazing gems for eyes. The White Dragon flew above, the stars and moon and sun and clouds all shown around him, while the Black Dragon swooped below among the trees and rivers and villages.
And now everything made sense to the Rabbit.
How the White Dragon felt about humans was more complicated than he had first guessed. There was a measure of resentment, but it was not simply that… could it have been…
But wait. That wood in the brazier was fresh…
“I wondered if you’d be bold enough to go snooping around in here. So I watched you to see.”
The Rabbit hadn’t even heard the Dragon until he announced himself but he was already just an arm’s length away in his human form, studying him.
“I wanted to apologize to you, Elder.” The Rabbit tried to keep his voice steady as he knelt, bowing before the Dragon. “I was thoughtless and offended you, and I have been disturbing your peace here. Also I hope you will be benevolent enough to overlook any offense my Master or his packmate may have committed.”
The Dragon scoffed. “Funny, they came to apologize for you pestering me. Or at least, your Master did. I told them that if I got annoyed with you I would throw you back down the mountain myself.”
Still not daring to meet his eyes, the Rabbit nodded, “That is all I wished to say. Farewell, I will not disturb Elder’s peace again.” He stood and made to turn and leave but a hand caught his arm. It was cold and impossibly strong.
There was something between bewilderment and annoyance on the Dragon’s face. “Did you not hear me? I thought rabbits had good ears.”
“Am I not an… annoyance to Elder?”
Shaking his head, “Brat, have I thrown you down the mountain yet?”
This whole time the Rabbit had been trying to keep his reactions and voice as flat as possible, his expressions as distant as possible. But at these words the well broke and his heart surged. The Rabbit forgot all of his fears and apprehensions and embraced the Dragon who at first froze stiff, then exhaled and didn’t reciprocate the gesture, but patted him on the head.
Outside the ruined walls, the sound of the wind fell away and peace settled in.
The Rabbit heard the Dragon mutter to himself, “Been a long time since the mountain was so… lively.”