Bun’s feet were dirty and hard. His hands were calloused, and his muscles were stringy and unyielding. He had a wild look about him, yet he was also possessed of an inner peace that would have been clearly visible to anyone who came across him.

Not that he knew that. Not that anyone else knew that either. For weeks, it was only Bun, the forest, and the tweeting birds.

Then, one morning, that all changed.

Bun awoke one morning from pleasant dreams–Bun dreamed that he had discovered a new and wild fruit so delicious that he sprouted wings and flew up into the heavens–to find a small, furry face nipping his pocket.

Bun sat up with a start. The small furry face leaped back.

It was some kind of animal. It had a triangular head with long, furry ears that stuck out sideways. It had a brown coat.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Bun brushed the place where the animal had been nipping. The fabric there was stiff and stained.

“You’ve been after my yolk,” he said, and realized it was the first thing he had said out loud in weeks. His voice sounded weird in his head. The vibrations of it made him feel a strange sensation that was somewhere between vertigo and deja vu.

It was true. The other day, an egg had cracked inside his pants pocket while he was climbing back down the tree. Bun had tried sucking it up, but a residue had formed, and this little furry critter must have sensed it.

The animal licked its lips. It growled at Bun, but it didn’t run away.

Then Bun heard something else. It was a bigger, much scarier sound. First, it sounded like a dry snapping. Then a chorus of dry snapping joined the first, so that it became a huge ripping. Then there was a brief pause, followed by a vibrant thud. The forest floor shook.

Something had felled a tree. But what?

Bun did not have to wait for long to find out. By the time the giant lumbering pachyderm stepped into view, the little furry critter was long gone.

Bun stood up. His heart was pounding in his chest.