It came back to me suddenly.
Not like a memory I chose.
More like something that slipped through a crack in my mind when I wasn't paying attention.
My mother's voice.
Quiet.
Familiar.
Warm in a way that didn't belong here.
She used to sing something when I was younger.
I hadn't thought about it in years.
But now…
It wouldn't leave.
---
Hop, hop, little bunny.
Where do your footsteps lead?
---
I swallowed.
My throat felt tight for no reason.
That wasn't happening now.
That was—
That was a long time ago.
Before everything.
Before this place.
Before—
No.
Don't think about that.
---
Hop, hop, little bunny.
Why won't you slow your pace?
---
My fingers twitched.
I looked down without meaning to.
My hands were still there.
Still mine.
Still—
Stained.
I flinched.
Don't look at them.
Don't look at them.
---
Hop, hop, little bunny.
Mud upon your snowy feet.
---
Mud.
No.
Not mud.
That's not—
I forced my hands closer to my chest.
Like that would make them cleaner.
Like that would undo it.
Like that would make it stop being there.
---
Every trail you leave behind
Makes your flight complete.
---
Flight.
Why that word?
Why did I remember that part so clearly?
I tried to laugh.
It came out wrong.
Small.
Broken.
I wasn't a bunny.
That was stupid.
I wasn't—
---
Hop, hop, little bunny.
Will you make it through?
---
My breath stopped for a second.
That line felt different now.
Like it wasn't a question.
Like it already knew the answer.
---
The forest keeps its secrets well…
We hope it keeps you, too.
---
I went still.
…
That wasn't how it ended.
Was it?
It had been a lullaby.
Just a lullaby.
Something soft.
Something safe.
Something you forgot as you grew up.
Right?
…
Right?
---
My hands were shaking now.
I looked down again.
I didn't want to.
But I did.
Ink.
Still there.
Still—
No.
Not ink.
Don't call it that.
Don't—
---
Had I been the bunny this whole time?
---
The thought didn't feel like mine.
It felt placed there.
Like something had stepped into my memory and rewritten the shape of it.
I stared at my hands.
At the stains.
At the proof.
No.
No, I'm not—
---
I'm not prey.
---
I said it out loud before I could stop myself.
My voice sounded too small.
Too uncertain.
Like it didn't belong to someone who was supposed to be alive.
---
I forced a smile.
It didn't stay properly.
I tried again.
I'm not a bunny.
I'm not—
---
At least not physically.
---
The thought came out wrong.
I didn't know why I added it.
I just did.
Like something inside me refused to let it stay simple.
---
Not mentally either....Right?
---
I blinked.
Why did I say that?
That wasn't—
That wasn't supposed to be part of it.
---
I'm…
Not…
Prey…
---
My voice stopped working properly.
The word felt heavier every time I tried to say it.
Like it was becoming less true the more I repeated it.
---
I don't know.