Meatloaf
Hey, we're meeting with Ice.
Might be time to make our move soon.
Clementine
You know the Fruit Basket crew is with you.
What about Gin?
Meatloaf
I'll worry about Gin.
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Green
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A stream of steady unbroken shades passed through the double wide automatic doors.
“Cycle or stay Two-leg, the choice is yours. But if you want to stay, the solution is behind those doors.” Green loafed down on his paws, keeping them ready to spring as he watched Two-leg’s eyes dart around. He could almost see his mind trying to find a way. “I’m open to other plans if you have one.” There, at least now, Two-leg might consider other options — it wasn’t a cycle sentence if he had a choice.
Green wasn’t sure how long it was before Two-leg gave an answer. He was never great with time or sitting still. So, when it got too hard, he started running a figure-eight pattern under the vehicle beside him, practicing his high-speed turns around the tires. He needed to stay limber, things could get messy and when the action started, he would try to save Two-leg — if he could.
Asher turned towards Green, shifting to a single knee from his watching crouch. “No, it won’t work. There isn’t enough time between groups to slip in without breaking a shade.”
The bunny skid to a stop. “Sweet cardboard, Two-leg. That took you long enough. So, what should we do?” It would have been fun to see him try to sneak in the front, but once more, caution had won. Two-leg had to be panicking a little, he’d faded another degree towards gray while he sat there, but it didn’t show. Maybe he was just oblivious.
“We need another entrance. A delivery bay, a side door, or something.” Two-leg started running his finger through the dust on the ground, sketching out the building. He pointed to a couple of square shapes that Green recognized as bay doors. “If I remember right, I think that’s where they are. Mom drove around the building more than once looking for a parking spot last year.” Two-leg had a half smile on his face.
Green wanted to nudge him to hold on to those memories but caught himself as he noticed the still swirling spell at his chest. “The shipping area won’t work, still too much activity, but I know an entrance we could try.”
“You knew about another way in? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you ask?”
Two-leg was about to say something, but then Green sat back and gave his face a quick wash with his front paws. Two-leg closed his mouth, watched, then opened it again. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said. “Alright, lead the way.”
It worked on every human. Every time. They always forgive you after a quick face or ear groom. It’s like they’re surprised that we care about our appearance and can manipulate things without thumbs.
They headed around to the side of the building. There were a couple of shades, but nothing like the front of the food box.
“Hey, why didn’t we approach from the side?” Two-leg asked.
“Good question. That would have been a good idea.” Green was pretty sure a human would snicker here. But bunnies express emotions differently. For him, it was usually a honk, teeth chitter, or a combination of both. But when Green got really excited about incoming action or pulled off a successful piece of mischief, he would hop straight up and twist around as random muscles fired in glee. Humans called it a binkie. He rarely binkied these days, but felt the telltale happy feeling filling him up. He tried to suppress it, but it launched him into the air and twisted him around, betraying his mood. The wilted things would never let him get away with a deadpan retort.
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“Let’s call it practice,” said Two-leg with a smile.
Asher was looking at him like some kind of Darwinian mentor. Howler teeth! Not his name again. Green dropped flat to avoid familiar binding attempt number six. Or was it seven? The energy lashed out, cracking like a whip over his head.
Two-leg quirked an eyebrow. “Stop goofing around. Let’s go,” he said. Oblivious, Two-leg set out at a jog, moving from the cars and following along the building’s gray wall.
Green gave a small thump in annoyance. “Sure, that’s what I intended — practice,” he muttered as he hopped ahead of Two-leg. He led him to a side door a few dozen feet from the loading dock. There were some large garbage and recycling bins blocking sight from the workers unpacking trailers, and beside the door was a picnic table with an old metal coffee tin on top. The door didn’t have a handle, but someone had propped it open with a wooden wedge. If they timed it right, they should be able to open the door. “Okay, you’re going to need both of your hands inside. I’d leave the bat beside the bins. You can get it when we leave. Then try to pull open the door.”
Two-leg held the bat out with both hands. “Really? I won’t need it in there?”
“Has it worked on shades before? No? Right, because it’s not enchanted.”
He rubbed his thumbs over the handle tape. The barest hints of blue still clung to it. Two-leg nodded, walked to the wall, and laid the bat between it and the bins. Then he moved over to the door, positioned himself with his back against the wall, and peered through the slit of the propped open door for approaching shades. Then he lightly tested the door with his fingers to see if it would move.
Impressive. Most fledglings would have just started pulling on the door. Then, when a shade came out, it would push the door open, and the fledgling would stumble back off balance. Usually, the shade would bumble through the surprised fledgling and break before they recovered and got out of the way. Asher had already figured out the Law of Observation in the alley, even if he didn’t know what it was called.
"Gnarly nugget!" A startled double hop to the top of the picnic table dodged the next bonding attempt. It was close. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready!” He thumped down on the picnic table and glared his right eye at the retracting energy.
Two-leg stopped. “Okay….” He dropped his hands from the door.
It was even more frustrating that Two-leg couldn’t see his own spell. Green didn’t know why that was. “No. That’s not it.” He hopped down from the picnic table. “Keep going. Don’t mind me. I think the alley lettuce was off.” It wasn’t. He loved lettuce, like most green things. That’s why he took the color as his third name, but Two-leg needed a reason.
Two-leg gave him a slow nod and started on the door again.
Great, now Two-leg thinks he’s the weird one.
“What should I expect inside?” asked Two-leg as he tested the door for give.
“Most food boxes are guarded by shades, banshees, and trolls.”
Two-leg took his eyes off the door and looked down at the bunny. “Trolls? Like, modern or mythological?”
“Oh, they’re big and bad. Ugly hunched things made of multiple shades. Lots of eyes to see and mouths to suck, so they drain energy quick.”
“Great. Let me guess, you need fire or acid to keep them from regenerating?” Two-leg let out a soft chuckle his lips quirked in a small smile.
“I don’t think fire or acid hurt them. Maybe if it came from Meyonohk?” Wait. Was that an attempt at humor? Green figured it must be a pop-culture reference he didn’t get. He once spent time inside a home trying to improve his knowledge. Weeks? Months? Green could never be sure, but it didn’t matter. Everything related to specific time loops controlled by Lady Wraith, so it was basically the same couple of evenings on repeat. The loop changed once when a color hunter had shown up to raid the kitchen and he got a day of birthday party chaos.
“Do trolls work like other shades? Like, if I don’t break them, we can just avoid them?”
“That’s a well-reasoned assumption. I mean. Yeah, if they aren’t broken, then the same rules would apply.” Green felt binkie energy building. He changed the subject before it gave him away. “So, when you get in there, we should go left along the shelves. Keep your eyes open for colored cloth or buckles. People sometimes leave sacks, bags, or satchels here for last minute or desperate supply runs.” That was helpful. Green squinted at the swirling energy in Two-leg’s chest, waiting for it to strike, but nothing happened.
“Okay, sounds good. What’s our escape plan?” The door came free and swung open to the steady pressure of his fingers.
“Run. You have two legs, Two-leg. Use them.” Green hopped in through the open door.
“Good point. Not a plan, but a good point.” Two-leg stepped to follow him in, but stopped, turned, and while keeping one hand on the door he reached out to the picnic table. Grabbing hold of it, he dragged the table towards him. The door settled against it, Two-leg nodded in approval, then stepped in through the door. “It’s the best I can do. The rest is up to luck.”
Green nodded. Open doors could be dangerous in the Belly, letting things like howlers wander in, but being trapped was a cycle sentence. Two-leg just improved his odds. He deserved a nod for thinking a little further ahead than most. Of course, a shade could just pull the table back, but if they were quick, it would probably be okay.