Little B in the Dark of Days

Little B watches her Mommy as she sluggishly removes a wrinkled, gray elephant from her chart. The claw-scraped spaces line the dirt of their burrow. They are nearly empty, absent the magazine pictures, stuffed animals, or small figurines they had found to represent each animal. All that remain are a stuffed koala bear, a plastic monkey and Uncle Bibb’s old tail representing the rabbits. Nearly all animals have slipped into the nightmare-filled existence of black magic. Now they stalk around nefariously like dark shadows, dead inside but ready to extinguish anything with a pulse.

Early in the Dark of Days it was still safe to hop around undetected, but Mommy had not allowed it since Daddy disappeared. That had been Little B’s last day out of the burrow. And it was then that the map had found her. She was hopping around a rather enticing garden, when it careened across the sky landing flush against her face. She pawed it off only to discover it was a drawing of their forest. She could even see where her burrow should have been. A line dotted through the trees ending with a strange symbol. She looked but no one was nearby, not even a dark shadow. Securing the map between her teeth, she had rushed home to show her parents, but Papa never did return. So instead, Little B tucked the map away wedging it deeply between dirt and tree roots in their warren.

But lately, it's as if the map is calling to her. When the burrow is silent and the whole warren in slumber, Little B detects minuscule sounds: a pinecone falling to the ground above, a butterflies wings fluttering close to the burrow, the spin of dreaming paws in a run. And she hears the map. It slides back and forth along the tree roots, moving in an impossible breeze. Every day Mommy’s face grows more vacant making her long for Papa, for fresh air, the radiance of sun light, or for anything to end this nightmare. She is aware of the dangers above, the stories the other rabbits tell (when they do return), and of what her Mommy will say if she shows her the map.

Today is the four hundred and forty-sixth day of Dark of Days and ninety-fifth day since Papa disappeared. Little B’s Mommy pushes some wildflowers toward her to nibble, and she notices she has given her all of them. She splits them, pushing half back, and keeping her paw firmly planted to let Mommy know she has no choice. Dwindling supplies mean that winter is near and things will get tougher. She can barely handle seeing the sorrow on Mommy’s face as she eats. Taking her last bite, Little B decides she must do something. It is time to use the map, to see if it can help her find what Papa was looking for, the piece of love to end the black magic.

She meanders through the warren careful to not draw attentions as she makes her way to the hidden map. Gingerly, she conceals it in her mouth and scuttles soft as a night-crawler toward the surface, holding her breath the entire way. She does not have long if she wants to make it back before bedtime.

The shadows are known to grow ravenous in the night air. She imagines what it must have been like for the last elephant when it got caught. Perhaps it was like instant blindness, pure panic and darkness followed by a consuming rage from which you cannot wake. She shudders at the thought.

As she dashes and darts across the forest, she keeps her eyes alert and ears sharp. The path is long and windy, littered with garbage, empty campers' tents, and what can only be described as the remnants of ruined dreams. She finds rusty cans and dilapidated sheds to hide within whenever a shadow is near.

Finally, she reaches the exact spot on the map where the dotted trail ends. There is no mistaking it, every rabbit knows every tree by heart and whoever drew the map knew the trees just as well. But the only thing staring back at her is a gigantic pile of dirt. But Little B is not leaving here without an answer, so she starts digging. First, one burrow, then another, and another until she loses count. And when she is finally about to admit to herself how ridiculous she was for thinking this map would lead her to the answer, or that any of this makes any sense, her claw snags on something hard. She delves around it revealing a large, wooden chest. But she needs more room to open it. It needs to be above ground. This is not an easy task for Little B, she is small and scrappy, but that doesn’t lend itself to strength. After much heaving and thumping she flops down with winded breath.

It will be dark soon. She reminds herself she did not come here to fail. If she can’t move the chest from the dirt, she will have to remove the dirt from the chest. She makes her way back out and onto the pile to get to work, her tiny paws moving furiously. Soon every inch of her is covered in dirt, providing camouflage as she fails to notice a black shadow creep by within a hare’s length of her digging. When she reaches the surface of the chest she does not stop, thrusting mounds of dirt this way and that. Her heart thumps wildly when at last the lid of the chest comes into full view.

She eagerly lifts it using both paws, and nearly falls back as a swarm of birds fly out. They sweep past her chest like a pelting rainstorm on a hot summer day, their feathers shifting from pure white to black upon release. What they leave behind glows up at her with the purest light she has ever seen. It is golden with delicate veining lines and a ticking pulse, its heart shape strung around a chain.

Without hesitation, she reaches down and sweeps the pulsing locket into her paw. But its pulse and light extinguish like a rapidly fading star in the night sky. Her long ears twinge as heavy steps trod nearby and a shadow sweeps overhead. She springs frantically, clutching the locket and fleeing faster than she ever imagined possible. The shadow closes in on her as the moon begins to eclipse itself behind some clouds. More shadows start to appear, from every direction, further away but making strides.

There is a huge pile of silver, pristine-looking objects, once probably someone’s prized possessions, and she jumps over to it ascending with each scamper. At the top, she quickly checks for the quickest path home. Stretching and extending her legs as much as possible, she springs forward taking the longest leaps of her life. But at the bottom of the pile her paw comes down on something sharp and she tumbles, letting go of the locket.

The shadows creep close again. Blackness blocks her vision, but tiny pockets of moonlight burst through and she notices a small glint a few hops away. A shadow dives toward it, but Little B lunges forward and grabs the chain just in time. The shadow grazes her injured paw and the blood on it singes to a deep maroon, followed by a burning sensation within her chest. She pulls the locket to her heart and is amazed as the pain subsides.

Rolling over, she places the locket beneath her and closes her eyes while wishing for a miracle. She waits for the shadows to come. After some time she cautiously opens one eye only to discover they have retreated. She is baffled, but quickly realizes her dirt-stained fur provided protection, blending her into the path. She remains still as a rock for several more minutes, listening to her heartbeat pulsing at the speed of a jackrabbit’s legs. Then, slowly she lifts herself and puts the locket in her mouth. She hurries home as best as she can with her now strained hop.

Arriving at her burrow has never felt so good.

“Where have you been?” Mommy’s stern voice and angry whiskers greet her.

“I found this for you,” she says pulling the locket out. Mommy shakes her head.

“You risked your life for some trash?” Mommy says.

“What if it’s what Papa was looking for? He said the last piece of love from before the black magic could fix all of this.”

Mommy gives a disapproving tsk.

“Nonsense — love isn’t tangible, it’s a feeling and it goes away just like all the others.”

Little B doesn’t want to believe that. It has to be tangible, like when warm paws wrap around her, or wildflowers are shared, or even the space it holds within her heart.

“It’s just a locket. Now go clean up. Then, we’ll talk about the trouble you’re in for sneaking out.”

“Yes, Mommy,” Little B says with resignation.

She scurries down into their burrow glancing back to make sure Mommy is not watching.

“Just this once,” she says and places it over her head.

The necklace warms and starts pulsing, and before long it is glowing. Little B tries to cover it, scared her Mommy will see. But then it opens and an eye stares up at her as golden streams shoot out from it. They swirl in front of her as if dancing with the air. A cinnamon-scent fills the earthen tunnel and a warmth like the sun’s rays caresses her fur. Vivid images appear as if she is watching the whole world from above. Split seconds of cherished moments among thousands of creatures, animal and human alike. There is hugging, kissing, playing, laughing and most importantly — smiling. She has to suppress the urge to do a binky hop.

“Brûlée Briggs, what are you doing?” her Mommy’s voice startles her. Her hair stands on ends as she turns. But then the burrow grows dark. Little B looks down, and the eye is gone as are the golden swirls.

“What was that?” her Mommy asks.

“I don’t know. It came from the locket.”

For the first time in ages her Mommy’s face softens with the look of hope.

“It went up,” her Mommy says pointing slowly to the ground above.

They scramble toward the surface without another word, Little B momentarily forgetting about her injured paw. The night skies shimmer, saturated in a deep-gold dust sprinkling over them. The moon shines brightly and it is clear that something huge is happening.

“What ever have you done?” Mommy says, tears forming in her eyes.

“I found it, Mommy,” Little B replies.

“That you did.”

“It had the piece of love.”

“I don’t understand how,” Mommy whispers.

“It’s the heart of the world. I saw snuggles, kisses, smiles, and sweet moments — thousands of them. It was like watching every moment of love all at once.”

“But Papa said it had to be the last piece of love?” Mommy replies.

“I think it was.”

“How so, my dear?”

“Well, there was also an eye inside the locket.” Mommy gasps. “And I think it captured everything so it could be seen, so it could show us that love is everywhere. It’s in what we see and do and feel. There isn’t just one piece of love, it’s millions, happening every second, even right before the black magic took over.”

Brûlée Briggs’s mommy places a paw around her. They stand for a while under the shimmering night sky, and not one shadow creeps past. The Dark of Days are done, the light is returning. Tomorrow the shadows will all be free, even Papa.

And it turns out love is tangible, it just travels at the speed of light.