Autumnal change danced delicately through Stag’s Hollow. The canopy, decorated in golds, maroons, and earthly browns gave in to the warmth of the sun and bitterness of the breeze. Beneath their feet, Rabbit and Fox felt the paper thin veil of leaves covering the trail as it crackled beneath their paws.
The air, surprisingly warm, gracefully combed the hairs of Rabbit and Fox. Two unlikely allies stood side by side from the moment they first locked eyes. They often traveled the beaten paths left by the local deer in search of self-reflection, and most often they found themselves within each other along the way. Rabbit and Fox were inseparable companions, and no other fauna in Stag’s Hollow dared interrupting.
Fox noticed the oddity in Rabbit today. Although quiet predominantly reigned over the Hollow, the slightest stir made Rabbit jump. The poor fellow remained looking over his shoulder and allowed paranoia to course his veins. The heaviness in his eyes was astounding. Fox hedged a wager that his small friend hadn’t slept in days. In the distance a snap of a branch could be heard, a rather ferocious commotion, and he darted behind Fox and crawled beneath his long, flowing crimson tail. Fox bolted immediately and slowly curled towards Rabbit.
“My friend,” Fox’s voice, soothing like morning coffee, whispered, “what has you troubled today?” Rabbit immediately straightened himself out and brushed broken leaves off his pelt.
“Why, nothing of course!” Rabbit attempted to remain confident. “I simply grew chilly in the wind and needed an extra layer momentarily.” Fox grew weary as Rabbit was never one to be prideful.
“Come now, Rabbit,” Fox recited with a hushed laugh, “the air is mild in manner and the sun’s caressed your fur the moment you left your warren.” Fox beckoned for honesty from his ally with a simplistic grin and shimmer in his dark eyes. “Need not I remind you why we take these walks?”
“I’m in love,” Rabbit stamped his foot bitterly, “okay?! Is that what you want to hear?!” Rabbit began walking once more with a quickened pace. The more they traveled towards the base of the summit, dew drenched soil filled their nostrils. “I’m in love, Fox. Is that okay with you?”
“My dear friend,” Fox expressed with gratitude, “why, that’s wonderful news!” Although Fox raised his tone, he always remained soft. “May I ask who the lucky lady is?”
“No,” Rabbit said partially disturbed, “you may not.” Rabbit stopped once more and glanced up towards the sky. Leaves fell heavier here than where they rested before moments ago, and he wanted to wait for a fallen orange or gold maple leaf to land upon his shame. “There is no lucky lady,” the small friend let go defeatedly.
“Please,” Fox began to ask, “explain what you mean? I merely wish both my ears to listen and my mouth to remain shut.” Fox laid upon the earth and tucked all four legs into himself while wrapping the length of his tail around himself. He was a soft pillow with amber eyes and two perked ears eager to hear Rabbit’s troubles.
“Okay—but please no comments until the end. Okay?” Fox remained unspoken and reaffirmingly nodded his head. Rabbit inhaled deeply and released the tension towards his feet. A nervous itch appeared behind one of his ears and he scratched away the uneasiness. “A lady, as mentioned before, has professed her love to me. Although we have only been briefly acquainted, she speaks highly of me. She loves me with every nook and cranny of her being. I was hesitant at first because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t only addicted to the love she had to offer me, but that I was willing to envelop myself in it. Does that make sense?”
Fox nodded politely.
Rabbit continued, “I wanted to ensure that I wasn’t only interested in what she has to offer, her love for instance, but I wanted make sure that there was a yearning I felt the moments she isn’t around. I wanted to know what it felt like to miss her. I craved the need to discover if life would be the same if she were to ever leave.” A tear welled into his eye, “And by golly, Fox, I have never missed a woman that much in my lifetime. I ached. Not simply my heart, but my bones. My head throbbed—my heart pounded on the front door of my brain and begged for it to face its fear, but my mind turned off the porch light and never unlocked the deadbolt. Not only did I find my other half, the one who is designed to deliver unconditional faith, hope, and peace into my being; but I also unlocked a new fear.”
Rabbit watched a few leaves land between him and Fox. “The thing about leaves,” Rabbit continued once more, “is that they fall and never rise again. They fall hard, and quickly, and they don’t know where the wind will take them, but they let go and allow fate to decide. So my question to you, Fox—my dear friend: what’s the point of love if it just ends when the cold comes?”
“My dear, comrade,” the Fox said with a grin, “are you cold now? Does not the earth between your toes rein warmth as it takes light from the sun? Do not the fallen leaves, barren and amass, lie together as one on the forest floor as they once did strung to limbs? Who has the strength, the desire, the ability to determine what is cold? Who is it that stands as the father of the autumn frost which was once spring dew?” Rabbit stared at him intently with anticipation to hear the answer. “Well,” Fox spoke laughingly, “come now! It is your questions to answer!”
“Who am I to know these things?”
“To answer a question with a question need not be confused with fear—but with humbleness. For it is the one who questions who yearns for knowledge. For it is the knowledge seeker who devotes oneself to the truth. For it is the truthful who long for happiness.” Rabbit glanced at his feet resting beneath him and began untangling the words.
Fox continues, “The autumnal months heed not a warning as most believe it does. Colors do not fade and water does not freeze to remind us that shelter is our only promise and shall be our sole compromise. Snowflakes dance, much like the leaves: they do not fall. When have you ever witnessed a leaf drop straight downward? Do they not spiral? Do they not get carried away in a breeze as you so mentioned before? One who allows themselves to dance, furthermore only wishes to sing, for who dances to silence? And it is in that song we find our voice. Through our voice we write a song. A song introduces a melody, it builds musical bridges, and creates romantically fluent punchlines that accentuate the soul and our deepest desires. My friend,” Fox paused long with a smile, “you are in the midst of natures most beautiful ballad. May I explain to you how I know you’re madly in love?”
Rabbit raised his head to meet Fox’s gaze.
Fox whispered, “Because you fear it.” Rabbit let loose a barraged flow of tears. Softly, he wept: but, wept deeply. Fox laid his head across his forepaws and lightly closed his eyes to deliver privacy without abandon. Rabbit felt his essence course his being.
Rabbit had always fallen in love with being in love. A portion of his might delved strictly from his desire to find the love he deserved. Sleepless nights, rest without dreams, and aches in bones and joints pushed Rabbit to wake again. Morning after morning, the small creature woke in empty nest. Day after day his chores were checked, his “i’s” had dots and all his “t’s” bore crosses. However, this never seemed to be enough for himself, let alone for someone else. Rabbit once asked himself, How many more letters must I manage to cross reference before I allow an entire page to be written. Let alone a sentence?
Fox rose to release a deep stretch. “Rabbit, my boy,” he said eagerly to his ear-blessed friend, “let us not lay haste to the sunlight we’ve been blessed to touch! Come now,” his crimson head tilted towards the path in front of them. Rabbit slowly turned towards the direction of the summit and restarted the journey with his companion.
“You know,” Rabbit said sniffling away tears, “the incessant need of talking in parables on your end is rather dramatic, wouldn’t you say?” Fox howled with laughter and Rabbit was soon to join.
Before the two noticed, they stood before Half Crescent Lake. As the name implies the shape, the water was so similar to the transparency of glass, even the most impressive academic would try to walk on it. River rock and small boulders laid upon the floor and schools of trout, salmon, and otherworldly amphibians sloshed about to bask in the serenity of their home. The summit lied northernly, miles away from where they stood, but the mountains could be seen clearly: a monstrous monument to His grand design. Oh, the dreams Rabbit and Fox shared of reaching its peak. Their old age refrained the temptation and left them reminiscence.
Moments after reflection, our two friends noticed nature cease existence. Ripples on the water rested. No tree bore a leaf. The clear sky, still sheltered in vast blue, shone no light—no stars or moon to contrast. The temperature plummeted. What was once warm water transitioned to a bay of dense fog devout in hindering The Mountain. A wind whispering secrets slammed closed in a box not worth escaping. Barren limbs dare not shake. Birds tormented with inability to sing. Fish, still, like abandoned anchors. But it was in this void, that a brilliant light appeared where The Mountain once stood.
“Fox,” Rabbit panicked in whisper.
“Yes, my boy,” Fox whispered, “It’s Him.” It was after that sentence that Fox kneeled before His omnipotence. Rabbit, beginning to follow suit, was shunned to stand. Fox closed his eyes and rested with a smile, and fell into a sleep so divine, Rabbit feared he would not wake. Rabbit stared into the light, accepting its purity, and fought temptation to scream.
A White Stag appeared from the fog on the other side of the lake. Elegance would decimate the beauty It carried. With every step forward, It’s hoof gave life. Grass, once hazed in yellow, released an Eden shade of green. Flowers, no matter the season, crawled from the Earth and bathed in the Stag’s aura. Birds landed gently upon His antlers and kissed the divine.
Rabbit looked graciously towards the sky and received empty branches in return. Oaks and birch, hundreds of years in age, were not blessed with the northerly grace as Rabbit had just witnessed. The fear Rabbit held subsided, and it was then the Stag bellowed rhythmically and filled Rabbit’s ears with bliss. Steam poured from the Stag’s mouth and nostrils like a dragon in tales of old. The ground shook, the waters boiled, and the heavens let loose a heaviness not one living thing could have possibly survived. It was in that hell storm that Rabbit felt a blanket lie across his paws.
Resting beneath him was a leaf: the only leaf within a radius of the lake. The warmth was astounding. Rabbit could have crawled beneath it to bask in dreams he longed for within his slumber, but the affection it was soaked in refused his desire. The golden maple leaf shone brighter than any diamond under the most precise glow. Rabbit howled in acceptance as tears flooded atop the leaf at his feet.
Rabbit could not tell a soul how long he stood before His Excellence, but dozens of lifetimes could never muster the truth. As quick as He appeared: He vanished. The sun crawled across Stag’s Hollow. The fish began to jump. The birds rejoiced in angelic praise. Rabbit looked to Fox and saw tears of gratitude resting on a crimson face.
Fox asked joyously, “Whoever said leaves lie cold?”
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