Embers danced up into the night sky as I finished the last of my hot chocolate. I couldn’t stop staring at the stars and replaying today’s events in my brain. I’d really been reincarnated as a Bunny Goddess.

I thought back to one day at a family BBQ. My cousin asked to play with the Nontendo DS I’d gotten for my birthday. Naturally, after he’d broken my GameGirl Advance a year prior, I told him no. He could watch me play if he wanted.

The fit he threw, kicking things in the backyard, screaming at my parents, and throwing acorns at our family dog proved I’d chosen correctly. But that didn’t stop him from yelling, “In your next life, you’re gonna be reincarnated as a toilet!”

Now, granted, we were teenagers at the time, and our parents were present, so there wasn’t too much we could say in the way of insults without getting grounded. We definitely weren’t going to curse. No siree. My tongue still remembered the taste of soap from when Aunt Claudia overheard me saying “shit” on the front porch talking with my friends.

So, cursing me to be reincarnated as a toilet was about as close to crossing the line of “being grounded” as he was willing to get.

And in the grand scheme of things, I think being reincarnated as a bunnygirl is infinitely superior to being a toilet, I thought. Small things to be grateful for.

Looking more closely at the thin layer of spotted tan fur covering my arm (and the rest of me), I stopped and considered for the first time how complicated things might get with this new body. Gender issues aside, what did I know about rabbits? Was I supposed to give everyone I met the gender-neutral greeting of, “What’s up, Doc?” Would short gingers point their guns at me as they cursed up a storm? The possibilities seemed endless.

Needless to say, my first lesson in being a bunnygirl came pretty quickly.

Juno sat down by the fire after taking a lap around her wagon to check it for any cracks or damage it might have earned from the day’s travel.

“So, I was thinking about starting a stew,” she said.

That was the moment my tummy chose to sing the song of its people. I immediately put my face in my hands, feeling whiskers between my fingers, and my huge ears droop in embarrassment. I guess being reincarnated leaves a girl pretty hungry.

Wait. . . did I just think of myself as a girl? I thought. Nope. Put a pin in that. Food first. Mental spiral brought on by gender issues second.

“Stew sounds lovely,” I mumbled when I could lower my hands again.

“Great!” Juno said. “I left Hemlin earlier today and grabbed some fresh pork from the market. I could cook that up and throw it into the pot with the last of my potatoes and . . . Tilda are you okay?”

It was the damnedest thing. I loved practically every food that came from pigs in my last life. Ribs? Delicious. Bacon? I wasn’t asking for a lot of it. I was asking for all you had. Pork chops? You won’t even have leftovers when I’m through with your crockpot.

But now, the moment Juno spoke that word, my stomach lurched to the side, as if it could make an escape and leave my esophagus and intestines to deal with the incoming pork stew.

Nausea filled me from belly to brain, and all the memories I had of being Bartlesville’s biggest BBQ fan weren’t enough to fight it back. If I had gills instead of fur right now, you could bet they’d be green.

It must have shown on my face because Juno’s look of concern was enough to call my focus back.

Clearing my throat, and holding a hand to my chest (where it accidentally bumped a tit), I fought back any bile threatening to return the hot chocolate I’d downed.

“Um, I appreciate your kindness. But I don’t think. . . I can eat meat.”

Anymore, my mind added.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t even consider that. But that makes perfect sense. Regular rabbits in this world don’t eat meat. So, I guess it doesn’t make sense that a Bunny Goddess would.”

My instincts flailed as my brain screamed, “Don’t be a burden! Don’t take up any space!”

And I looked around. Maybe I could jog back to that town she’d mentioned and find a Topway? Get a veggie sub?

“No, no. You’re fine, Juno. I just appeared in a burst of light at a shrine. I don’t expect you to know my dietary restrictions,” I mumbled.

Especially when I don’t know them either, my mind added.

“How about I change things up a bit? I’ve still got plenty of celery, carrots, potatoes, and spinach. I can boil up a vegetable broth and make a lighter soup from them.”

My ears perked up at that, and it was amazing how quickly the nausea vanished from my body, like dust in front of a box fan. Poof! Gone.

“Thatta girl. Soup it is, then.”

Some tiny receiver inside my brain buzzed at hearing the words “thatta girl.” And it wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling. I just stared at the ground for a moment, fighting a blush I didn’t even think could exist under my fuzzy muzzle.

“Oh, I can help chop the veggies if you’d like,” I choked out, suddenly overeager to be useful. It was probably something in the way I was raised. But if somebody offered to do me a favor, I immediately sprang into action to help with said favor. Doing anything less was impolite and would get me scolded, either by my grandfather or my mom. And when you learn behavior like that in your youth, you don’t easily shed it in your teens or 20s.

It occurred to me that I’d suddenly been forcibly herbivorized, and I wasn’t entirely cool with losing access to steaks, chicken strips, ribs, brisket, turkey legs, and deer chili.

I’ll just add that to the list of things to sass Opha about if I should come across her in my travels with Juno, I thought.

Then, I stared down at my hands, as if a letter was going to suddenly appear with, “No, you won’t” written in a large bold font. Thankfully, for my mind’s ego, no such parchment appeared.

Juno smiled.

“That’s very kind of you, Tilda.”

That tiny receiver in my brain went off again every time she said my name. Tilda, the name I’d chosen — er stolen from Gabriel. Either way, the sides of my lips curled upward when I heard her address me with it. The giddiness that echoed down my arms and left me wanting to shake them and squee was undeniable. But I tried to put a cap on it so Juno didn’t think I was bonkers.

“It won’t be easy for you to chop vegetables under a blanket. I should loan you some clothes. . . unless your goddess magic includes making them on the spot?”

While that would be useful, I didn’t expect it to be an ability Opha hardwired into my new body.

“Sorry. Just luck magic, I’m afraid,” I said, giggling.

Juno nodded and went back to her wagon. While she dug around in the back, I walked around to the front of the wagon and spotted a large hulking beast about 20 feet away, tucked into the side of a small hill that trailed down from the main path.

“Uh. . . Juno? Should we move the wagon?” I called back to her while standing stock still. I’d seen videos of creatures like this, and they would fuck you up if given the chance.

It was at this point, I realized that there was no horse or mule attached to the wagon. How did she move it? Did her steed escape before I’d appeared here?

Juno walked over to me with a lantern in one hand and a long gray dress in the other.

“Why? Is there something wrong?” she asked.

I just pointed down at the shaggy brown beast sporting massive antlers that were thicker than baseball bats.

“Oh, him? Don’t you worry about old Svenoldson. He’s my daisy moose, pulls my cart, and keeps me company across my many travels. I guess now’s as good a time as any for you to meet him.”

Those words weren’t exactly computing as they should have been, and Juno seemed to spot this in the confusion spreading across my face.

“Here. Come with me,” she said, setting the dress on the buckboard and taking my hand. Her touch sent gooseflesh up my arm.

The messenger led me down the small slope to where Svenoldson lay on his side, face half-buried in a pile of leaves.

“Svenny! Hey, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Juno said softly as we approached.

Her lantern cast a pale light over the front half of the daisy moose, and as we got closer, I saw that he did indeed have a bunch of daisies in his antlers. No — growing from his antlers! Tiny, hair-like roots wrapped around the bone of his antlers and pushed inside with leaves, stems, and white flowers hanging down.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The moose lazily lifted his head and stared as we approached. With a massive jaw, the resting beast yawned and stared at us.

Juno lightly patted his snout, briefly letting go of my hand.

Svenoldson slowly licked Juno’s hand with a gray tongue bigger than her thumb. She snickered and then lightly took my fingers, guiding my hand to a few inches in front of Svenoldson’s snout. His brown eyes locked with mine as he sniffed, nostrils widening as I felt air flowing past my hand. Even his sniffs were lazy. It was kind of adorable, really.

My nerves calmed a bit when his nose gently bumped my hand, and Juno motioned for me to pat him lightly a few times.

“Aw! That didn’t take long at all. You’re both practically herbbuddies already.”

I raised an eyebrow as I continued to lightly pat the animal’s gargantuan snout.

“Herbivore buddies,” Juno said, scratching Svenoldson under his muzzle.

I fought a sigh. Then, I realized Svenoldson probably didn’t ask to be made a herbivore either.

Well, what are you gonna do? I thought, smiling. It was still unnerving to be petting a creature that could and would trample me back in my world. But here, the moose was a beast of burden. . . one with flowers growing out of his antlers.

Sounds like the kind of thing Miyazaki would write into a world, I thought.

“Yeah, you two are gonna be best friends. I can tell,” Juno said.

“How can you tell?” I asked as Svenoldson yawned again.

She started scratching the moose under his snout before answering me.

“Well, if Svenoldson doesn’t like somebody, he won’t let them touch him. He’ll just stare at them until you see the whites of his eyes. And he’ll let out a frustrated little ‘EEEEEAAAAAWWW,’” Juno bellowed, imitating Svenoldson with what I’m sure was a flawless and accurate portrayal of a grumpy daisy moose.

When Juno made this noise, Svenoldson let loose a weary groan and started to lightly chew on her trouser leg.

“Oh, okay, big guy. I’m sorry for waking you just to meet a Bunny Goddess. Forgive me,” she said, moving down and patting his belly while Svenoldson lowered his head to the pile of red and yellow leaves again. “Next time I’ll only wake you if it’s important, like if a DragonWalker is stomping by or we’re out of berries again.”

Svenoldson snorted and closed his eyes, ignoring the messenger.

Meanwhile, my ears and whiskers both perked up.

“Did you say you have berries?” I asked, suddenly drooling at the thought that a bowl of strawberries might be in my vicinity.

Juno just laughed and took my hand again, leading me back up to the wagon.

“Come on, bunnygirl. Let’s get you into some clothes, and then I’ll see if Svenoldson has enough frostberries in his stash to share a few without missing them.”

I didn’t know what frostberries were, but my ears were still standing tall and twitching with the future promise of berries. Any kind.

Strange, I thought. I was never a big berry fan in my last life. I was always more of a meat-and-potatoes guy. Now, most of that description was wrong. No meat. No guy. Potatoes? The jury was still out. But the thought of spuds didn’t exactly cause my stomach to flee in terror.

I stood on the dirt path in my bare bunny feet, still larger and fluffier than I ever imagined possible. I mean — there were probably furries back in my world who would tell me to tone it down a bit.

But I’m soft, I thought. Exactly like I wanted to be. Feet and all.

The dirt road was well-pressed from plenty of travel. Looking down, I could see imprints from wagon and cart wheels, horseshoes, boots, paw prints, and more. I wondered about the kind of people that wandered through here, the kind of people Opha expected me to bring luck to.

How exactly did I deliver that luck? And how would I decide who to bestow it upon?

My stomach growled again, interrupting my philosophical moment and earning me another snicker from Juno.

“Alright, already, Bunny Goddess. Let’s get you some clothes on, and then I’ll get those berries before we start supper.”

I wasn’t exactly a fan of being laughed at, but somehow, when Juno did giggle at my expense, it didn’t feel personal. Her airy voice made it seem like we could both be laughing at my stomach, like the organ was its own silly person, doing something funny outside of my control.

So, I smiled. And it didn’t take long to realize I was doing a lot of that tonight. Thinking back to being a mailman, I wasn’t sure I’d ever smiled this much before. Maybe when I was a kid and didn’t feel so. . . staticky inside my brain.

Juno handed me a soft gray dress with long sleeves and a skirt that went down past my knees. I could tell it wasn’t supposed to, but the messenger was much taller than me.

“I’d offer you some panties and trousers, Tilda. But with that puffy little tail of yours, I fear they wouldn’t be all that comfortable. Tomorrow, we should arrive in the city of Kylson, and I can take you to a shop that can tailor you some clothes.”

As I slid the dress over me as best I could, I thought about a tailor. I’d never had clothes made for me before or altered. My family was poor enough that if we needed something done to pants or shirts, Mom pulled out her sewing kit and did her best.

“Will the tailor be able to make clothes for someone like me? Are there other bunny. . . people?” I asked, feeling silly searching for the right word.

Juno helped me adjust the dress and pin up the sleeves, which were too long on my arms.

“Far as I know, you’re the only bunny to walk on two legs in all of Fevara. But there are a handful of other folks who look more like you than me,” she said.

I thought that through for a minute.

“Such as?” I asked.

Juno continued to pull the dress in some areas and smooth it out in others.

“Well, let’s see. You’ve got the shellbacks, which are long-lived tortoise-folk who make the best drugs — I mean, potions. The woolytes, sheep-folk who are typically among the greatest fashion designers in Fevara. You’ll probably be measured by one tomorrow. Then there’s the hootwings, owl-folk who are credited with starting the first libraries. And there’s a few more I’m too hungry to think of right now. It’s a big world. You’ll see plenty of it helping me deliver letters,” she said, stepping back and looking me up and down.

I again wondered if it was possible to blush. I felt. . . stiff in my shoulders, but rubbery in my knees. The fabric was wonderful and much warmer than standing nude on a rock of glowing sigils. But I wasn’t used to being appraised like this, unless it was my father telling me my pants made me look like a fag.

“Looks good on you, Tilda.”

There was that smile of mine, again invading the edges of my lips, threatening to wrinkle my cheeks.

And then, I did something entirely unhinged. Something I never thought I’d ever do in my life. I spun. I twirled. I whirled. Shoving out all thoughts of how ridiculous I probably looked, I gave in to the silliness that came from feeling my skirt lift with momentum from movement.

It was amazing how people constrained themselves in life, worried about what others might think or how they’d be perceived for the smallest things. And I just didn’t want to care about that kind of stuff anymore. I’d been splattered across some train tracks, got sassed by a goddess via the written word, and been reincarnated as Lola Bunny. I think looking stupid was the least of my worries at this point.

Why rob myself of a simple, costless joy because someone might sneer and gods forbid, wrinkle their forehead in disappointment? Fuck those people. This was fun.

At some point mid-spin, my smile had grown into a full-blown grin. I’d even started giggling.

Juno crossed her arms and laughed along with me.

“I hope you spin like that tomorrow at the tailor,” Juno said. “It’s adorable.”

That stopped me, and I waited for the wagon to stop dancing around me like a carousel before I asked, “I’m. . . adorable?”

No one had ever called me that before. Not with the sincerity Juno did.

Her eyes softened for a moment before asking, “Has no one ever told you that?”

I just shook my head and looked at the ground.

With a flurry of movement, Juno locked arms with me and pumped her other fist into the air, shouting, “Well you are! So very adorable. Without question. You hear me, Tilda? Adorable!”

Then, she marched us to the back of the wagon while I snickered all the more.

“Berries for the adorable Luck Bunny!” she shouted.

Opening the back door of the wagon, Juno dug around inside while I stood there, fighting the temptation to do more spinning. It took her a few minutes of moving things around, but at last, she found the berries.

The only problem was, when Juno emerged from the wagon carrying a small basket of tiny orange fruits, I was no longer alone. A massive daisy moose stood beside me, patiently waiting for his favorite treats.

When June turned around, her eyes grew wide, and then she grinned, “Svenny! I guess you heard me shout ‘berries’ and wandered back up to the wagon, huh?”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Svenoldson lying down was one thing. Svenoldson standing over me like a horse that swallowed 30 gallons of steroids only left me capable of saying a single word. Well — more of a sound, really. Eep!

“I don’t suppose you’d agree to share a few with your new herbbuddy, would ya, boy?” Juno asked with all the optimism in the world.

Meanwhile, I expected the moose to pound me into the ground like a tent stake with his antlers.

The daisy moose lowered his head and gently took the basket with his jaw. Then, he turned to me and moved the container closer to my face. Again, gently. It was like the animal was perfectly aware of how much space he took up and how easy it would be to accidentally crush someone with his massive body. So, he took extra care to avoid that.

Looking at the dirt path beneath my feet for a split second, I realized that I knew how that felt. Before I became soft. . . I was the giant who tried everything I could to keep from taking up too much space or bumping into people accidentally. Maybe losing steak and bacon was a small price to pay to not worry about that kind of stuff anymore.

“Thank you, Svenoldson,” I said softly while scooping out a handful of berries. And before I could pop a few in my mouth, I watched the moose turn and carry the entire basket back down the hill to his resting place.

“Well, I guess those are the only berries you’re getting,” Juno said, eyes still wide. “Sorry about that.”

I just smiled and popped one into my mouth. Tart juices that left an odd chilling effect wherever they went rolled over my tongue. And it took me a few seconds to get used to the sensation.

“What do you think?” Juno asked while I stood staring at a tree in the distance. “Tilda?”

Looking down at the berries, I dumped three more into my mouth and said, “Can we get some more of these in Kylson tomorrow?”

Juno looked relieved she hadn’t broken her Bunny Goddess. Nodding emphatically, she said, “I know exactly where the fruitsellers gather.”

I finished the berries, and while I was chewing (and shivering), Juno cocked her head to the side a little.

“Goodness. First clothes and now berries. You’re a demanding little goddess, aren’t ya?”

After finishing my snack, I took a deep breath and prepared to say something Brandon never would have said in his life.

“I thought you said I was adorable. Am I not adorable enough for you to buy me clothes and treats?”

My heart hammered in my chest. Those words shouldn’t have flown out of my mouth. They just shouldn’t have. Panic surged through me like lightning as Juno froze for a moment, and for a horrifying second, I thought she was going to snap at me or yell.

The relief I felt when she burst out laughing was indescribable. Just. . . holy shit. Why did I get so nervous? The messenger hooked her arm through mine again and led me back over to the campfire.

“C’mon, you adorable Luck Bunny. Let’s get that soup started.”