Rabbit's Story
Once there was a hare named Rabbit. He was lazy and vain and very much in a hurry not to do anything. He hopped about chewing on dandelions, a hop here, a hop there, everywhere he hopped about finding a bit to eat.
But of course, he was too lazy to go far, and it was not terribly safe to go too far from his hole, so soon there were no more dandelions to eat. he sat in the middle of the little clearing he had created and thought to himself, "There must be some way to get the other animals in the forest to bring me food. I know! I will announce a grand contest. Whoever brings me the best dandelions to eat will win a fine prize!"
So without moving, he began singing as loud as he could. His song was simple. It announced that whoever brought the tastiest morsels from the forest would be rewarded with a fine prize. He hinted that the prize would be something wonderful, something rare and unexpected, something quite impossible to get for oneself. But he did not name the prize.
All day the forest animals appeared and dropped tasty samples of the forest before the rabbit. Fresh clover, Queen Anne's Lace, varieties of lettuce, dandelions aplenty. Rabbit tasted and sampled and munched and snacked all day long without moving an inch and shoved what remained beneath him.
Finally, near the end of the day, Coyote appeared and dropped the finest morsel of all, something Rabbit had never tasted, something so much better than all the other morsels that all present acclaimed Coyote the winner of the contest. A fine, large carrot - long and orange with a huge tassel of fresh green on top, and wonderfully fresh and delicious!
Rabbit, reluctant to declare the contest over, hemmed and hawed and tapped his foot and looked about, but there was nothing for it - the contest was over and it was time to deliver the fine prize.
"Ah yes, then. I supposed that is the best I've ever had. Coyote, you have certainly taken the prize with your find. I congratulate you. I salute you! I ...."
But Coyote interrupted him. "The prize! Where is the prize?"
Rabbit knew the game was up. He took one giant leap into the air, surprising Coyote, who jumped up after him. But Rabbit came straight down and disappeared into a hole into which had quietly shoved all the food brought to him, and on top which he had been sitting. Coyote immediately began digging out the hole, determined to make Rabbit her grand prize.
Rabbit popped his head up a couple yards away from Coyote and shouted, "Coyote! Wait! If you'll stop digging I'll tell you a story!"
Coyote was frustrated and hungry, but nonetheless she stopped digging and said, "What kind of story?"
Rabbit said, "A story about you. A story you will enjoy. A story you will remember. A story you can tell your pups! That is the prize!! Will you stop and listen?"
Coyote, despite her hunger, pulled her paws out of the dirt, circled around a spot a few feet from Rabbit, and settled down quietly to listen. "It had better be a good story, Rabbit, or I will tear your lair apart with my teeth!"
And Rabbit began telling the story.
Coyote and Lion
Here then is Rabbit's story:
Coyote's cubs were starving. The summer was too dry, then a hard and wet winter. The mice disappeared first, then fewer squirrels, tit-mice and moles. Rabbits had moved on long ago, following fresh green as much as possible. Coyote should have followed them but she spent all her time hunting, trying to feed her pups, and hunting was easier on an empty stomach than making a den and moving pups. Coyote found herself desperate.
Coyote's friend Jackal said Lion and his consort had a den within a day's walk. Coyote had nothing to lose. She headed to the river and followed it upstream for a day and a night. The next morning she emerged in a clearing. Lying comfortably under the shade of a tree was Lion. His mates and cubs lounged and played nearby.
Coyote walked slowly to Lion in a straight line, slowing as she neared, and with head down. Lion appeared to pay no attention to Coyote until she was a few yards away, within speaking distance.
�”Why do you come to me, Coyote?”� said Lion without turning his head.
Coyote, who had great respect for Lion, the arbiter and final judge of life and death across the entire savanna, finally spoke. �”Lion, my lord, I come to you out of desperation. My cubs are starving to death. I cannot feed them because all prey has disappeared. I ask you.� I beg you.� Can you help us? Can you feed us?”� Coyote laid on her belly, her head between her paws. She was ready for anything. If Lion decided to take her, she would go willingly. Otherwise, she would persist in her efforts for her cubs and herself.
“Coyote! I will help you. But you must do something for me first.”
“I will do as you will, my lord,”� replied Coyote.
“There is a girl in a nearby village, a human child. That girl must come here. You must bring her here. After that, I will be able to get food for you and your cubs.” Lion turned his large wide eyes to Coyote. �”Bring me that human child unharmed no later than the next full moon.”
Coyote shuddered and blinked. She knew from experience how dangerous the humans could be. “But my lord, who? And where? How will I find her? How can I possibly make her come to you?”
“You will know. You will find the way. Go now, into the forest. You will find help, perhaps where you least expect it. Go.”
Coyote rose and turned and walked quietly away from Lion, her head spinning. No choice, she told herself, no choice. My cubs will only live a few more days. I must hurry.
There was a village, Coyote knew, farther up the river, perhaps another day. It would be that much longer before she could return to her pups, but because she had been able to feed them before she left, and because they were old enough to know not to leave their den, they would be safe for a few more days. She walked that day and night. Before morning, she smelled something familiar and dangerous: the trail of Naga, the jungle's great King Cobra. Naga was moving up river in the same direction as Coyote, so Coyote followed the great snake's trail toward the human's village.
II.
Jamalia was not happy about having to go to the well this late after dark. I have no choice, she told herself. Even the night creatures, even Naga the fanged one, always a silent danger at night, must not keep her from fetching fresh cold water that her mother, burning with fever, might be comforted and cooled. Their village had no shaman, so no one, even the old ones, knew how to expel the angry spirit that roiled in her mother's brow.
Besides, it was not that far, was it. Only a few minutes across the village and into the forest on the far side. Not far enough to make it worth while recruiting her friend Juma to accompany her. She donned her sandles and slung the empty gourds over her back and stepped into the warm humid night.
Jamalia hummed to herself as she walked, a short sweet tune taught her by her brother, who learned it in the city where he now lived, working, as he said, in the mines, but as Jamalia knew, rarely actually able to work, there being so many young men from so many villages all crowded together, all competing for the few real jobs and scrapping for odd work or food in between. She was happy not to have to go to such a place. Now her mother's only child in the village, now eight years old, it was up to her to be grown up enough and strong and brave enough to prepare food, spin and knit clothes, learn the songs, and even though her mother and the elders might not approve, she could hunt too, a little, a valuable skill she had secretly begun to learn from her brother before he had to leave.
But it was so dark! She tried to ignore the rustling sounds around her as she stepped onto the path from the village to the well clearing. The tall trees closed over her like a crushing wall, shutting off the faint light of stars and moon. They left only the dimmest glow surrounding her. But her eyes adjusted and she found she could still see the path and some of the great ferns on each side. But there were so many sounds. Most were familiar and even comforting – the distant chirping of the high tree monkeys as they settled into their nightly vigil, the cackling sounds of macaws, the settling buzz and hum of insects. She knew from stories that the sound which is most dangerous is the sudden silence when all of her jungle brothers and sisters smelled or heard the swishing tail and low guttural purr of the great cats – the jungle's most feared hunters. They could not help give warning. They were too large and too fierce to mask themselves from the sensitive ears and noses of other animals. And they rarely came near the village for fear of the villagers' spears but more importantly because they feared the great feet of their elephants, standing alert and fearless, tethered around the village border.
But Jamalia was now outside that border. As she neared the well clearing, she walked more slowly and listened carefully. There was no change in the sighing of the night and the quiet chatter of her jungle brothers and sisters. So no great cats tonight. She reached the well and put her gourds on the ground and raised water in the well bucket. She filled each gourd and when they were all full, pulled each one's rope over her shoulder until the heavy gourd nestled against her back and sides and each other as comfortably as possible. When she turned to return, she stopped – she had heard something, something she had not heard before, a curious kind of swishing on the ground before her. Her hair prickled suddenly and she found she could not move a muscle.
“My child, my child,” hissed Naga as it rose before her, to the height of her eyes and above. She could just make out its great hood and its tiny glowing eyes in front of her. “My child, my child.” It hissed and spoke to her quietly. “You are far too large a meal for me, but you will return to your village and bring me one of your youngest, an infant from its nest. If you fail me or bring the spear people, I will know and I will return to you in the night when you least expect me. I'm sure you know from your people that one bite from me and you will enter the underworld naked and alone and forever be preyed upon by the bitter animals of that place.”
“No!” she finally managed to squeeze out. “I cannot!”
“Then your family will find your rotting flesh in this place. They will build a pyre and place your body on it and you will be consumed in flames. But it will be too late – your soul will be mine and you will dwell in the dark place and you will not return.”
Jamalia was deathly afraid now. She had heard such stories and had hoped they were only old tales to scare children into obeying, and perhaps they were, but she did not want to find out. She was not ready to die.
As Naga spoke to Jamalia, his attention sharply focused on the girl, ready to strike at the slightest movement, Coyote stepped silently from the undergrowth beside the path behind him and very quietly moved toward the raised form of the snake's upper body.
“I cannot! But please don't kill me great one! I beg you!” she whispered, entranced by his eyes and swaying head.
“Then you are done, child,” Naga said and his body leaned far back to prepare for his strike. As he did so, Coyote suddenly leaped and, turning her head to the side and opening her strong jaws, clamped onto Naga's body just below his head. Coyote's jaws snapped shut and Naga's head flew into the air above them all, a surprised look in his eyes. Next only to the Lord Lion, Naga was king of this region and feared no animal. But this! A moment's carelessness, ah.
Coyote stepped aside as Naga's body thrashed its death dance and finally ceased to move. Jamalia, still paralyzed, stared with her mouth open at Coyote.
“Relax, child, I am not here to hurt you,” she said. “But I must ask you to do something for me.”
Jamalia forced herself to breath in and out, in and out, and watched Coyote, who was sitting relaxed before her. She could tell Coyote spoke the truth, down on all four legs on the ground, her paws before her almost as if in supplication, her eyes pleading.
“You saved my life,” said Jamalia. “What can I do for you, Coyote?”
“The lives of my pups depend on your help, young human. I need you to return with me to the den of the Lion Lord. He has promised me food if you come to him.”
“But I might as well have died from Naga's venom, if I were to go to Lion's den with you!” she replied. “Surely he will kill me to feed his pride.”
“Perhaps, but I think that will not happen. Whether he is hungry or not, Lion is not hunting now, I can tell this. And his wives and children will not hurt you unless Lion orders it. But he needs something, something only you can provide. Will you come?”
Jamalia thought hard. She must help Coyote, she knew. Coyote was not only her jungle sister, Coyote had risked her life so that Jamalia might live. The code of her people required this.
“I will come, but first I will take this water to my mother, who needs it, and I will ask my mother's friends to look after her when I leave. And then I will take my friend Juma with me to Lion.”
“Yes, yes, that will do, little human. I will wait here, near the path, until you return.”
III.
True to her word, Jamalia returned within the hour high on the back of an older, wise-looking elephant. “Coyote? Coyote? Come out!” she shouted. “I'm ready to go.” Coyote stepped out onto the path. “There you are,” she said. “You see, I am ready to go with you. Juma and I.”
“Ah. Juma is your elephant brother? Fine, but please ask Juma if I may also ride on his back. We will be able to go much faster, and I have little time left!” Jamalia had no fear of Coyote, and to Juma it was no trouble at all, so he reached down with his trunk and lifted Coyote to his back. Coyote led the way through the jungle, he and Jamalia protected from all on the jungle floor, and thanks to Juma's long stride, they were able to travel to Lion's clearing very quickly indeed.
It was near dusk when they entered Lion's clearing. Lion sat quietly where Coyote had left him, appearing to doze. The rest of his pride lay stretched out well behind him.
Without bothering to look at the approaching party, Lion gave a low grunt and got to his feet. As the party drew near, he turned and bowed his head. “Juma. Welcome my old friend. Please all of you, make yourself at ease.” He turned to Coyote. “You have done well, Coyote. You shall have the food you need for your pups.” Turning to Jamalia, he said, “Child, it is well that you came. Be assured I mean you no harm, and even if I did, our friend Juma would let no harm come to you. He is a great and honorable member of his tribe, and he has served us well for many years now. Juma, I am honored and pleased that you have come.”
“It is good to see you again, friend Lion,” trumpeted Juma. “Please, may we know why we have come?”
“Of course.” He held up his right front paw as high as he could to show them the pad. It was swollen and red. Deeply embedded in the center was the stub of a large thorn. Lion was in pain and had been unable to remove the thorn. “I need your help. I am not able to hunt. My pride grows restless with hunger. They too are hunters, but without my skills, they hunt badly and have been making do with small game only. Only you, girl, have fingers made to grasp such things. I need you to remove the thorn and pack my wound with healing herbs. Soon we will be able to hunt again. I promise you this: Coyote, you shall return immediately to your cubs with food, and when we hunt successfully again, my daughters will bring food to you every day, and they will protect your den while you hunt on your own.
“And for you, young human, you shall return to your village. Your mother will recover, as her illness was one created by Naga, who no longer endangers your people. You shall never again fear for yourself or your tribe. We will be your guardians in the night. I only ask that you release your friend Juma from his tether so he too may roam the perimeter and protect your community. Then once again he and I shall walk the paths of the garden together as we have done in the past.”
And so it was done. Jamalia was able to remove the thorn. She drew upon what she had learned of healing herbs to create a potion which quickly healed Lion's wound. Juma took Jamalia back to her village, where she told her story to an amazed and joyous community. Coyote returned to her cubs with enough food to last many days until Lion's hunting resumed. Word also spread across the jungle of Coyote's courageous quest and her bravery in killing Naga, and she found hunting easier than it had been. Soon she was able to move her den close to Lion's clearing, where she raised a fine pack of young coyotes, each of whom sang praises to Lion and her pride throughout each moonlit night.
Thus ended Rabbit's story.
Coyote, who had been listening carefully, though she appeared to be dozing, lifted her head. “Yes, Rabbit, that was a good story and a worthy prize. And you, it appears, have been well provided for. Now tell me, Rabbit, did you just make up this story for us? Is it true you offered a great prize when in fact you had none prepared?”
Rabbit merely grinned his Rabbit grin, licked his coat for a moment, savored the fine meals ahead of him, and replied, “You have your story, Coyote. As for the rest, it matters not at all, does it. If you wish another story in future, you know where I am and what I require in payment!” And he jumped straight up one more time and dropped out of site down his rabbit hole to his home now filled with many fine days of feasting.
The end.
