Hatebunny

Warmth enveloped Angel, and his half-remembered scream had already faded before he realized what had happened. Fluttershy was holding him, rocking him back and forth like she had when he was still a kit. Like she did most nights. He felt a cold, damp patch on his fur, and the familiar shame of having wet his basket. It was early morning in Ponyville.

“Oooh, did little Angel-wangel have the nightmare again?” cooed Fluttershy, consoling.

Angel just nodded weakly and snuggled deeper into her fur.

“That’s ok. You’re safe here, my little bunny. Do you want some cocoa?” Another nod. Fluttershy put him down gently and went into the homely cottage’s kitchen. “Why don’t you go and have a nice hot bath while mommy fixes breakfast?”

And wash off the urine, he couldn’t help inferring. It wasn’t fair on Fluttershy – she didn’t mind, didn’t love him any less. So she said.

Angel stumbled, drained, into the bathroom and ran a shallow, warm bath. He stepped in gingerly and leaned back with a weary sigh. Shortly after, Fluttershy brought a steaming mug and went back to the kitchen. Angel drank it with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the images still burned into his mind’s eye.

Even after everything else that had happened, somehow it was that night which continued to cost him sleep. After his parents had pulled him from the earth, nobunny had been able to get close to him – not his childhood friends, not his family.

His family…

Fluttershy came in a while later to find him shivering and staring blankly at the wall, mug and bath gone cold. Wordlessly she helped him out and towelled him dry, massaging some warmth back into his paws.

“Breakfast’s ready,” she said, gently.

The squirrels were the worst. By rights they should have been grateful to Angel and Fluttershy, as the two worked away preparing suitable nests in readiness for Winter Wrap-Up. But they were constitutionally mischievous, and often Angel would feel the soft poc of an acorn bouncing off the back of his head, followed by chittering laughter. Fluttershy was no help – she’d scold them, and they’d behave for a while before their recidivist tendencies got the best of them.

Angel was working in a low opening in a tree trunk, clearing out the detritus mechanically, unthinkingly. If he stayed focused on the work, he could stave off the claustrophobia, which was always worse after one of his recurring nightmares. Angel was no longer capable of going underground like a normal bunny.

Suddenly, it went dark. Angel looked up sharply – or tried, but there was nothing to see. The blackness around him was sudden and absolute, and in his utter disorientation Angel had no idea where the entrance had been. He groped around blindly, trying to fight the rising panic even as he heard the muffled chirruping of squirrel laughter from outside. Trying to make his way to a wall, Angel stumbled and knocked his head sharply, driving a squeak of pain from his lips. It felt like the invisible world was spinning, and it became harder and harder to stay in control, to stay rational. Desperately, he tried to feel around the edges for the exit, but his paws encountered only the same unyielding wood all around. He tried calling for help, chirping and chittering himself hoarse, frantically scratching and hammering on the stone-like tree, but he was too quiet. Fluttershy couldn’t hear him. Nopony could hear him. He collapsed on the floor, feeling something warm running down his face. Blood. He could taste it running into his mouth.

Blood and darkness.

Angel thought he could sense the invisible walls reaching out for him, felt a tingling of his fur that meant, surely, they were about to envelop him, crush him like they had Leliel. He curled up in a ball, unsure if his eyes were open or closed, and his mind went as black as his surroundings.