Swallowed, Chapter 1
Generations ago, snakes ruled the world. They magically hybridized with practically all existing predators. The constriction of the snakes' mighty empire has uncoiled. But, their effects still linger. Some communities are still broken and struggling. On the personal level, nearly everyone has the ability to distend their bellies and swallow prey whole. Some prey even find this pleasant. Stomach acid is consciously suppressed, and they are released afterwards. But, then there are the cases where this ability is abused. And that's where a certain roaming rabbit steps in.
The rabbit had been told that the predator had sauntered into town and snapped up the first child that had crossed the animal's path.
Such fury the rabbit hadn't felt in a while. A child?? Couldn't even have the scruples to pick a small species adult, if they were that cowardly or powerless?
Days like these, the wanderer reconsidered taking on a predator partner. As it was, the perfectly able fighter still had to take the time to find someone to pay to sniff down the murderer.
'Murderer' didn't really do the crime justice, the rabbit thought, as ears swiveled in agitation and black eyes glanced at shop signs hurriedly.
Even just swallowing someone without having the decency to knock them out or kill them first, that was bad. But going further, keeping someone in your belly, alive and struggling, while you suppressed your stomach secretions just enough not to kill them, but acid burn them, sometimes for hours . . . that wasn't murder. That was sick, twisted, sadistic, perverted, deranged . . .
The animal would think up another dozen words when the vocabulary wasn't so stuffed with rage.
Every time black eyes alighted on a predator, the thoughts would swirl even more. Sure, they shouldn't be blamed for one of their own kind's actions, but they didn't do anything to _stop _them, either. Sure, they never signed up to put themselves at risk, as the wanderer did, they just wanted to live the civilian life. There was no telling what sorts of spells a newcomer could harbor. It wasn't just physical danger on the table. A tiger could be bested by a fox, should he be in possession of the right magic. Probably stolen magic. Most days, the rabbit tried to slip past these thoughts and accept it.
But today.
Today, a child torturer, a stranger, had waltzed into their farming community, taken what they wanted, and not even faced an outcry. No pitchforks. No crowd to drive them out.
That was the natural order, many, both prey and predator, said. Predators have the power to eat- and not digest- as they see fit. At least most of them make arrangements with prey to feed beforehand. You can't do anything about the ones who decide differently.
Yes I can.
The fighter couldn't bring the child back, might not even have any of a body to give them, depending on whether the cursed being had decided to do this fast or slow.
But the animal could present them with the pelt of a lunatic.
They might even be able to sell it, depending on how attitudes were around here.
It was cold consolation. But it was something.
Sometimes, animals were gladdened by the knowledge that the predator would claim no more victims. And sometimes . . . the reactions were . . . hard to deal with.
The rabbit had a feeling deep in the gut, that this would be one of those times.
Finally, a bloodhound's sign came into view, cutting off the rapid stream of thoughts. Not everyone who put up such signs actually was a bloodhound, but the breed had long since accepted their use as a symbol of tracking services. There was no ill intent in their usage, after all. The rabbit burst in through the door, breathless, and feeling the itching instinct to stamp a foot, even though there was no warren to warn, and the danger wasn't present.
"Hello? I'm sorry to have to rush you," the avenger said quickly, "But have you heard of the incident?"
A mink blinked back at the stranger. "Incident?"
The rabbit recalled to the larger animal all that had happened.
"We have to go now. Who knows how far the beast has gotten-"
"Beast?" The mink put a paw to his chest. "Such language, little bunny."
"Oh come off it, it's perfectly fitting and no harm is meant to those such as yourself, good honest people. I'm sorry if someone's wielded the term against you. Really." He inclined his head slightly. "Please, I will pay you double whatever your going rate is," even if I have to stay in town for a little while to earn it, "but I need you to direct me right now."
The rabbit wasn't even really bothered by 'little,' and the patronizing. There were bigger things to attend to. Literally.
Pun not intended.
"Why in the world would I lead a rabbit to their death?" the mink folded his hands, and spoke very seriously. Any patronizing was totally gone, replaced by genuine concern and dread. "Anyone who's that far gone would make short work of you. Unless you're a magician?"
"No. Actually not. But I don't have time to explain," the rabbit said anxiously.
"I'm sorry, but I would need to have very good reassurance. Money doesn't mean anything next to my conscience."
"I understand that, but listen. When I go after these freaks, I have the advantage that they sense no magic from me, and I'm prey. They're completely caught off guard. My secrets serve a purpose. I'm not just being standoffish here, see?"
The mink spent the next minute thinking, which further agonized the rabbit.
"Well, you should at least give me your surname, so I can inform anyone of your demise, yes?"
"Actually I . . . don't have a warren."
"What?!"
"Listen, that is far too long a story, and I don't feel like getting into it, either, even if time weren't of the essence. Please, let's just go."
"I'm just . . . not sure about this. You could be lying . . . but why wouldn't _you want your family to dig one last burrow for you? That, in its own way, is worse than _just facilitating your death." The mink shook his head. "No, I don't think so. You'll have to find someone else."
"If you're going to think of conscience, then think of mine. I'm technically putting you in danger if I don't manage to kill this trespasser, and they decide to come after your scent. Is that the real issue here?" the rabbit pressed. "Because if so, if you can find it in you to trust the word of a 'little bunny,' I'll have you know my record is nearly spotless." The would-be burrower drew up to full height, which admittedly wasn't that impressive, but the words rolled with conviction.
The mink paused a few moments more.
"You know, for some reason, I believe you."