《The Postman Becomes A Bunny Goddess In Another World》


 Im A Bunny Goddess?!

    Author''s note: Hello and thanks for reading my sapphic isekai romance. A new chapter will be released every Sunday. BUT, you can read each chapter two days early by subscribing to my Ko-fi</a>. And if you enjoy this story, you might also check out my werewolf romance,here</a>. For further updates on my writing, feel free to join myDiscord</a>. The next chapter will be released on January 26.


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    The rusty old hatch of my truck took a few kicks to lock into place, but I got the roll-up door sealed, once again hiding the plastic crates of sorted letters and packages.


    ¡°Damn! You make opening and closing that door harder with every stop,¡± I told my American Postal Service truck as if it could hear me and magically fix itself.


    But the tattered old vehicle needed the same thing all rural post offices did and was unlikely to get. . . funding. Money for a new timing belt. Money for a new door. Money for new tires. Hell, even money for the rural mail carriers who froze their fingers and toes bringing people their Spamazon boxes and envelopes.


    Heaving my mailbag onto my good shoulder, I sighed and made sure the doors on my mail truck were locked.


    Above me, gray clouds hid the sun and promised a day of frigid wind, if not a few ill-timed showers.


    Pulling up my wool pants and fixing the sleeves on my blue long-sleeve shirt, I started the long walk around Betsy Loop, a wealthier neighborhood of country homes on the outskirts of Bartlesville.


    Passing an older house painted blue, I made my first stop, pulling a few bills out of the letterbox and replacing them with a couple of credit card offers that would immediately be tossed in the recycle bin.


    ¡°Morning, Brandon!¡± a father of two yelled at me, waving and then ushering his kids into a minivan.


    ¡°Morning, Tom!¡± I yelled back, closing the postbox.


    I dodged a stray poodle that liked to escape its backyard and wander around the neighborhood sniffing trees. Freckles paid me no mind, so I didn¡¯t usually watch her too closely.


    The cracked sidewalk under my shoes was covered with dirt and leaves. It needed to be repaired, but the neighborhood association had declined offers from the town three times now over noise concerns.


    They might feel differently if I twisted my damn ankle and sued, I thought.


    Scratching one of my arms, I sighed. Brandon. Of all the names, why did mother go with that one? It was so. . . plain and boring.


    I wish she¡¯d have chosen something cooler like Avery or Alex, I thought. Maybe even Laurie. I was always fond of that name after reading Little Women in high school.


    ¡°Brandon just makes me feel like I might as well have been named Butch or Buddy or fucking Mud,¡± I grumbled, frowning.


    Putting a few magazines into a mailbox outside of a home with blue shutters on the windows, I paused to pop my neck.


    ¡°Oh my, Brandon! Sounds like you need a visit to the chiropractor,¡± an older woman said, looking up after plucking a few weeds from her garden.


    I grunted as a twinge of pain prickled down the back of my neck.


    ¡°A tall man like yourself hauling around mailbag all day is bound to have a few joints out of place. I could give you the number for Dr. Richards if you want. He fixes my back once a week,¡± the gardener said.


    I never asked to be so tall, I thought, hiding a frown. That was something I couldn¡¯t blame my mom for.


    ¡°Uh, thanks, Mrs. Wendell. I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I said, knowing with absolute certainty that I¡¯d never let someone start cracking my back like a sheet of bubble wrap.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asked, cocking her head to the side. ¡°You sound just like my husband. It¡¯s so hard to get him to go to the doctor unless he¡¯s lying on the floor, about to die.¡±


    Waving and offering Mrs. Wendell a fake smile, I started to slowly leave.


    ¡°Well, hey, you¡¯ll have several more chances to convince me. It¡¯s not like you don¡¯t see me every day,¡± I said, waving and moving on to the next house.


    I sighed again. How many times was that this morning? Was it normal for people to count their sighs? That question only left me heaving another exasperated sigh on the world.


    In my head, I heard her voice again, saying, ¡°You sound just like my husband.¡±


    And for reasons I couldn¡¯t place, that started to grind my gears. I¡¯d met Mr. Wendell several times. He was a good man, ran the local food bank, and volunteered at the county library. Who wouldn¡¯t want to be like him?


    Me, I thought. I don¡¯t want to be like him. I don¡¯t even wanna be like me.


    Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a package from Narnes & Boble. Someone had just ordered a new book. To distract myself from growing even more agitated from. . . whatever the fuck was wrong with me, I started trying to imagine what kind of book Ms. Washington was getting in her mail today.


    Placing the package in her mailbox, I continued around the loop, hearing the sounds of a sprinkler in the distance.


    ¡°Who waters their lawn this late in the season?¡± I asked, looking around the semi-dead grass in several neatly trimmed lawns.


    Turning back to my book guessing game, I adjusted the strap on my mailbag and rubbed my chin.


    Maybe she¡¯s got a new romance novel from Ashley Herring-Blake, I thought. Or something from Stephen King. Didn¡¯t he put out a book a few months ago? Maybe it¡¯s a graphic novel.


    This kept me entertained for the next few houses as I made my way around the loop and back toward my truck.


    My stomach growled, and that shifted my thoughts to lunch.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll try that new Italian place over on Fourth Street,¡± I said, again to no one. ¡°Sarah had good things to say about it.¡±


    Thinking of Sarah, my thoughts turned glum again. Not because of anything she¡¯d done, of course. She was perfectly nice and the closest coworker I had at the APS building. No, she¡¯d recently dyed her hair again, blue this time.


    As I scratched the back of my neck, I thought about my short blond hair, wishing I had the guts to dye it. It wasn¡¯t even that I wanted my hair to be a different color. I just ¡ªwanted so desperately to change something about myself.


    But it was hard to put into words. Some nagging feeling had only grown worse in the last few years. I didn¡¯t like my life. My job was fine, but. . . something just wasn¡¯t adding up the way I expected.


    I¡¯d never had much of a plan for my life. Sure, I played football in high school like most of the bigger boys did. But it wasn¡¯t like I planned to make a career out of it. All the guys in my class were talking about trade school or college or even joining the National Guard.


    They were all excited to leave home. I stayed, not because I loved my hometown, but because I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to feel excited about any particular future. A flyer stapled to an electric pole downtown that said ¡°Rural mail carriers wanted, $22 an hour¡± set my course for me. I just kind of fell into it.


    A decade later, I was still slinging mail. And most of those people who were excited to leave Bartlesville came back a few years later and started families as their parents did before them. They all seemed happy, for the most part, which was baffling to me.


    Because when I tried to picture myself happy, my mind got fuzzy, like an old TV with poor reception. Static filled the brain. I started to feel like Charlie Brown before he discovered the spirit of Christmas, only, I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d ever find it. The Christmas special was 25 minutes long, and no matter how many times you watched it, Charlie Brown eventually found what he was looking for before the credits rolled.


    But me? Twenty-eight years and counting. Still no answer for whatever ailed me.


    ¡°Maybe I should find a therapist,¡± I muttered, walking under a large oak tree with blue jays fighting over a favorite perch.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time I¡¯d wanted to, of course. But the only therapist in a 30-mile radius was also a pastor. And I was never one for the religious stuff. Omnipotent deities hanging out in the sky and deciding human fates was a bit much to buy. I wasn¡¯t here to worry about that shit. I had mail to deliver.


    A twig crunched under my sneakers, and I watched a squirrel dart up a window and steal seeds from a birdfeeder.


    It¡¯s so funny to me that people get upset about squirrels stealing from bird feeders, I thought, snorting. Imagine choosing to feed wildlife and then being picky about who shows up to dine.


    Pulling a few letters out of my bag, I stopped at a mailbox that sat next to a parked pickup truck. The letters were all in colorful envelopes, red, yellow, and orange. Maybe they were birthday cards. Those were always a nice surprise.


    The older I got, the more I appreciated people sending me cards and hand-written letters. Up north, in bigger cities, I heard neighbors tipped their mail carriers. But around here, folks would leave cards in their mailboxes with my name on them. I had one guy who left me homemade gingerbread cookies in his mailbox every Christmas Eve.


    ¡°Hey Brandon!¡± a man shouted from his porch as I approached his mailbox. Closing the lid and walking up his driveway, I handed the older man his mail.


    ¡°Morning, Malachi. How¡¯s your leg today?¡± I asked.


    Malachi sat in his pajamas rocking back and forth in an old chair, his left knee wrapped in bandages.


    ¡°Eh, still fussing a bit. I figured some fresh air might help it. Hey! Did you catch the game last night?¡±


    Inside, I sighed. Of course. I was a man. Men were expected to discuss the weather or the game. But the weather was brisk, and I was never one for sports after high school. Why couldn¡¯t we talk about gardening? I wish Mrs. Wendell would have told me about her dahlias earlier. But she probably thought it would¡¯ve bored me. Why couldn¡¯t we talk about new shops opening? I heard a teacher retired early from the Bartlesville Middle School to open up a clothing store over on the east side of town. We could talk about that. But no. Malachi thought I wanted to hear about football.


    ¡°And then the Bullboys took it into overtime! I can¡¯t believe you missed it. It was a hell of a game, Brandon. What were you doing last night?¡±


    What was I doing? Probably fucking around on Sinterest. Waiting for my body to trick me into thinking it was tired enough to sleep and then feeling wired as soon as my head hit the pillow.


    ¡°Uh ¡ªI went to bed early,¡± I lied.


    ¡°Ah well. You can watch the highlights online later. I have to do that sometimes if the drugs make me too tired to stay up and finish a game.¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Well, take care, Malachi. I hope your leg feels better tomorrow,¡± I said, walking down his driveway and continuing with my chest in knots.


    What was wrong with me? Malachi was a nice guy. Normally, I¡¯d have been happy to sit and listen to him talk for a few more minutes. But that growing agitation in the back of my mind just wouldn¡¯t shut up.


    ¡°Hey, Brandon! You ever think that in another universe, maybe you got drafted onto the Bullboys after high school?¡± Malachi called after me.


    Before I was out of earshot, I ground my teeth, turned back to him, and managed one final wave. Maybe from this distance, he didn¡¯t see me twitching.


    I made it back to my truck, sweat pouring down my face despite the cold. Looking in the sideview mirror, I saw Brandon June looking back at me. All 220 pounds of him. Blue eyes, thick neck, broad shoulders, and a haircut that said, ¡°Whatever¡¯s cheapest.¡±


    Heaving my mailbag into the vehicle, I paused to catch my breath and scratch my neck. Only then did I notice my mail truck had a flat tire on the passenger side. And even this failed to rouse any sort of anger or frustration from me. My shoulders just sagged, and I ran my hands over my face.


    Something was wrong with me. Sarah had asked me to go see a movie with her a few months back called The Feral Robot. It followed a robot that washed up on an island without people. And she eventually decided to raise a baby duckling. I liked the film well enough, but Sarah cried through most of it.


    And I could tell there were these scenes that were big, emotional moments where the robot had to let the duckling go so he could grow up. They were written to draw the tears from your body like a magnet pulling up loose change. But I . . . just couldn¡¯t make it happen. My throat drew tight. I felt. . . something in my chest. It just didn¡¯t equate with sadness or love. Try as I might, much as I wanted them to appear, no tears visited my eyes.


    That was when I realized how fucked I truly was. I couldn¡¯t even cry. Not that most men in my situation would be bothered by that. At least, most of the men I knew wouldn¡¯t. But I spent days and weeks obsessing over it, typing ¡°Why can¡¯t I cry?¡± into Foogle. Nothing I read online answered my question.


    Pulling my car keys out of my pocket, I was startled and dropped them when a train horn sounded off somewhere nearby.


    Looking to my left, I watched two metal arms extend downward to block off traffic from just outside the neighborhood. And to my horror, about 100 feet left of those metal arms, I spotted a child on the tracks.


    ¡°Oh no no no,¡± I whispered to myself as a freight train came into view from behind the nearby treeline. ¡°Hey, kid! Move!¡±


    But the kid was crouched over, fussing with something. He didn¡¯t seem to hear me. Or if he did, he didn¡¯t care.


    With my heart hammering in my chest, I threw everything I had in my tank and took off, hauling ass for the railroad tracks.


    The train horn sounded again as I put on another burst of speed. Everything around me seemed to blur at the edges of my vision. Noises grew distorted. The train horn sounded again. I even heard a few cars honking from the guard rails on the road.


    Grass and bushes flew by me as I ran straight toward the kid. The train, which had to be nearly a mile long, raced down the track. I knew from experience that you didn¡¯t stop one of those things quickly. It wasn¡¯t a car. That was tons upon tons of steel and cargo barreling down the tracks.


    Bounding up the little hill the tracks ran over, I spotted what kept the boy rooted to that spot. He had some kind of toy stuck under the rail. A doll or figure? I couldn¡¯t tell. There wasn¡¯t time to identify it. The train was probably less than a dozen feet away. I imagined a bewildered engineer or conductor praying for a miracle right about now.


    The boy was sweating, his short brown hair covered in twigs and mud. He¡¯d clearly been out playing all morning with whatever toy was stuck. Wasn¡¯t he Mrs. Wendell¡¯s grandson?


    Just before the giant steel battering ram on wheels slammed into the boy, I made the executive decision to sacrifice his toy and shoved the child off the tracks like I was a linebacker again. The fiercest wake-up call of my life officially ended my life as an unstoppable force met a very moveable object. And that was that.


    ***


    In the movies, when someone wakes up, it¡¯s a gradual affair. But my eyes snapped open without a hint of grace. The first thing I smelled was coffee.


    Looking around, I found myself standing in the kitchen of a sleek modern apartment. Stainless steel appliances lined the walls. They looked clean but also well-used. I noticed worn burners on the stove that spent a lot of time under cast iron cookware.


    A wooden block of knives sat next to a warm grey coffee pot half full of java. In front of me stood an island with a stack of envelopes and a fresh mug of what smelled like hazelnut roast coffee, steam rising lazily from the cup like a musician who sleeps an hour past her alarm clock. Behind the envelopes and mug rested a black uPhone in a clear protective case.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I called, looking around the kitchen and spotting an empty sink, a fridge with transparent doors so I could see a bunch of meat and produce inside, and a drying rack full of damp dishes.


    No one answered me.


    Cautiously, I stepped toward an island centered in the kitchen, carefully keeping my head away from a line of hanging metal pans that could and would bonk the ever-loving daylights out of me if given the chance.


    Looking down at the nice stack of cream-colored envelopes, I found the top one addressed to me.


    ¡°The fuck?¡± I mumbled.


    The envelope looked like any other kind you¡¯d stuff a Tallmark card into.


    Glancing around to make sure I was alone, I cautiously picked it up and opened it. The sounds of tearing paper echoed through the kitchen briefly as I unfolded a letter on a thick, cardstock paper.


    My eyes traced over the cream-colored parchment as I read a note addressed to me.


    ¡°Dear Brandon,¡± I read aloud. ¡°Sorry I couldn¡¯t be here to receive you in person. It¡¯s been a busy day. But allow me to cover a few basics. First, the coffee is for you. Feel free to help yourself as you read the letters I¡¯ve left you. Second, I regret to inform you that you¡¯re dead. Don¡¯t worry, though! You did manage to save the boy. Please take a sip of coffee before continuing to read my messages. Sincerely, Opha, Third Goddess of Fate.¡±


    Squinting and re-reading the letter, I found my mouth opening and then closing several times. I had so many questions. The boy. The train. Being dead. Why didn¡¯t it hurt more? And how many Goddesses of Fate were there?You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    But I figured I¡¯d start with the simple stuff and work my way up from there. Picking up the mug, I felt the balanced warmth in my hands. It wasn¡¯t scalding. It wasn¡¯t room temperature. The cup was just right to warm my fingers.


    Taking a small sip, I found myself instantly enamored with this blend. A smooth hazelnut roast washed a feeling of vague nothingness from my mouth that I hadn¡¯t even realized I¡¯d been carrying.


    The more I drank, the more rooted I felt in the apartment.


    ¡°That¡¯s good shit,¡± I said, sighing in relief. ¡°Almost makes it feel like being dead is no big deal.¡±


    Setting the letter down, I picked up the second envelope, also addressed to me. After opening it, I read the new letter aloud, ¡°Dear Brandon, That coffee is pretty good shit, right?¡±


    Pausing and raising an eyebrow, I glanced around the kitchen again. Was I being punked? Did gods understand the concept of punking? Surely they did. Wasn¡¯t it Apollo who fucked up some people¡¯s genitals for fun? Or was it because he got drunk? Both?


    I shook my head and kept reading aloud.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not being pranked. You really are dead. And I truly am a Goddess of Fate, one of nine. But after reading through your file, I¡¯ve decided to give you a second chance at life. Not because of your sacrifice to save the boy or because you suffered from depression your entire life, but because I think you could help me answer a prayer I¡¯ve received from a hard-working girl in another realm. Before you get snippy and reach for the third envelope, please take another sip of coffee. Sincerely, Opha, Third Goddess of Fate¡±


    Shaking my head, I sat the second envelope on the first, neatly lining them up. This was bullshit, right? All of this. I must really be in a coma and dreaming this insanity. It¡¯s the only possible explanation. My fingers started to twitch as I rubbed my cheeks.


    Wake up! Wake up! I thought, furiously closing my eyes. When I opened them again, I was still standing in the kitchen.


    ¡°Okay, so. . . coffee, I guess,¡± I mumbled, finishing the mug.


    Setting down the empty cup, I watched the coffee pot across the kitchen rattle and bubble like a water jug in an office and drain a little. At the same moment, my mug refilled itself to the rim with hot coffee.


    Neat trick, I thought. Very neat trick. Is Opha another name for Morgan Freeman, by chance? This all feels like a setup for him to walk around the corner in a janitor¡¯s outfit.


    Waiting for a moment and feeling more sass drain from my attitude, I shrugged when I realized Morgan Freeman wasn¡¯t going to materialize for me.


    Opening the third envelope, my eyes scanned the letter as I mumbled its words to an otherwise immaculate kitchen.


    ¡°Dear Brandon, I told you to drink more coffee before you got snippy. You should be thankful your soul wound up in my home instead of my sister Jeela¡¯s house. She would have sent you back to your world reincarnated as a stinkbug. Thankfully, I am nothing if not patient. Anyway, having determined that you¡¯ll be given a second chance, I¡¯m granting you a rare opportunity to reshape your next life. You know what to do with your coffee before tearing open the last envelope. Sincerely, Opha, Third Goddess of Fate.¡±


    Rolling my eyes, I downed another half-mug of java and again felt a little more at ease. What was in this coffee? My shoulders untensed, and I stopped squinting so hard. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, held it for several seconds, and then let it out. The snarky comments fell from my mind like water from my ears after diving into a swimming pool. Only instead of being able to hear more clearly, now I could think more clearly.


    Sarcasm¡¯s great for a chuckle, but it makes thinking a little more difficult, I thought, taking another deep breath and slowly releasing it.


    Now, calm as I was, I realized there were still so many questions left unanswered. I was getting a second chance. . . to do what? And did I even really want another chance?


    Before I ¡ªwell ¡ªdeparted my old life, I wouldn¡¯t exactly say it was something I clung to. Each day I lived felt increasingly like going through the motions. Like I was just waiting for the sand to run out of the hourglass or for something to click inside me before then. Looking back, I guess I now knew which happened first.


    It¡¯s a unique torment, knowing something is wrong with you, but lacking the ability to describe it to others. Think about it too much, and you run the risk of losing your mind. But at least then you had a problem you could describe to others. Lost minds. Everybody understood that, right? But how did you define a nagging feeling that something about you just wasn¡¯t right? The check engine light inside my body had been on for so long that the bulb burned out.


    And it wasn¡¯t like I could pull into some auto repair shop and have a code read. There was no data port to connect to a machine that would spit out a quick description of my issue. So really, maybe it was better that I didn¡¯t try to find a therapist. What¡¯s the point of having someone to discuss your issues with when you can¡¯t put them into words? I would have paid someone $300 an hour to sit on a couch and think of things to say without ever actually speaking a single word. I could do that for free in my apartment and reach the same outcome.


    While I stared off into space, the last remaining envelope started to shake and flap on the countertop below me. Without warning, it flew up and slapped into my forehead like someone threw a wet rag at my face.


    Sighing, I pulled down the envelope and gradually ripped it open with two fingers. With the letter in my right hand, I reached down for more coffee with my left.


    ¡°Dear Brandon. Spiraling won¡¯t help,¡± I read aloud once more. ¡°I know your life hasn¡¯t been what you wanted for a long time. But you have a chance to change that now. You¡¯re about to be reborn into a completely different world. Someone there has been asking for a little help, so I¡¯m sending you. But you have the chance to redefine your life and fix the things that went wrong. So ask yourself, ¡®If I could change anything about myself before I¡¯m reborn, what would it be¡¯? And when you¡¯re ready, pick up the phone, summon Ciri, and tell her what you want before you leave my apartment. Sincerely, Opha, Third Goddess of Fate.¡±


    Slowly setting down the mug, I raised an eyebrow and eyed the uPhone. It looked exactly like the ones people in my world used every single day. Millions of people would say things like, ¡°Hey, Ciri, send a text¡± or ¡°Hey, Ciri, is it going to rain today?¡±


    And I was expected to just tell Ciri what I wanted to change about my life before I was reborn?


    ¡°None of this makes any sense,¡± I muttered. ¡°Why is a goddess, a literal deity, asking me to use a phone to reincarnate myself?¡±


    Without warning, the letter in my hand unfolded more, revealing a bottom flap to the cardstock that appeared seconds after I finished speaking.


    ¡°P.S., It¡¯s extremely difficult to convince humans they¡¯re dead. They all expect some cosmic staircase or a golden escalator going up into the clouds. But nobody actually knows how to respond when greeted with those things in their afterlife. I¡¯ve learned through the eons that the easiest way to help humans transition into death is to give them things they remember from life. So pick up the phone, and stop asking silly questions.¡±


    I sat there blinking at the paper in my hands for several seconds.


    Shit, I thought. She really is a Goddess of Fate.


    Around me, the kitchen stood silent while I considered what to do next. My eyes glanced up at the uPhone, waiting patiently for my wishes. Wait ¡ª did getting to reshape my reincarnation count as wishes?


    Shaking my head, I cleared my throat and mumbled, ¡°Kind of a pushy goddess. If I ever see her face-to-face, I¡¯ll have a few choice words for her.¡±


    And, because Opha apparently had no limit to her foresight, one final flap of the letter unfolded with a last paragraph for me to read.


    ¡°P.S.S., No you won¡¯t. You think you¡¯ll have choice words for me, but you¡¯ll find yourself stammering just like you did each time Ava called you out back in 10th grade on the debate team. Good luck in Fevara. I have big hopes for you and the people you¡¯ll help there. But my biggest hope is that you find what you¡¯ve been looking for every moment up until you found that train.¡±


    Flipping the letter over and making sure there wasn¡¯t anything else to read, I sat there blinking for several more seconds. When I couldn¡¯t think of anything smart to say, I drained the coffee (which subsequently refilled itself again), and set the letter down on top of the others.


    Then I started to consider why I was unhappy in my first life. I had a decent job. I had my health until a locomotive splattered it all over the railroad. I had a roof over my head each night, food on my table, and no shortage of distractions when my brain got mean.


    So what could I ask for that would fix a problem I couldn¡¯t identify?


    More time went by. No letters appeared. The uPhone didn¡¯t turn on. I just stood there tapping my fingers. Nothing came to mind. It was the same as back home when I¡¯d sit on the couch and stare at the wall for hours, thinking.


    Maybe thinking was my problem ¡ª or rather, overthinking. Maybe my issues weren¡¯t something that I could think my way out of.


    ¡°Because this is something you have to feel,¡± I whispered.


    What did I want?


    Picking up the uPhone and holding down the power button until Ciri appeared on the screen in a rainbow orb of light, I said, ¡°In my next life. . .¡±


    My voice quieted to nothing as I pictured myself, all of Brandon June the mailman. Closing my eyes and feeling every single thing that was wrong with every beat of my heart, I started again, saying, ¡°In my next life, I just wanna be soft, okay? And I want to be luckier than I was in my previous life.¡±


    I said that last part while picturing all the flat tires, the bills that got lost in the mail, the socks that went missing in the washer, and so much more.


    To my surprise, Ciri spoke with an automated woman¡¯s voice, ¡°Understood. In your next life, you will be soft and lucky.¡±


    What I¡¯d asked for finally clicked in my brain when I heard Ciri say it.


    ¡°Processing your request. Please wait. . . reincarnation sequence loading. Portal found. Enjoy your new softer, luckier life.¡±


    I frantically tried to click the phone off, but it bounced between my hands like a bar of soap as I shouted, ¡°Wait wait wait wait!¡±


    And with a flash of blinding white light, my afterlife ended as suddenly as my first life.


    ***


    Cold air rattled my bones. The wind was loud, or maybe I was hearing it better now. My eyes snapped open and noted the darkness around me. Stars of blue and white twinkled in an indigo night sky above me. I stood on a stone disc of some kind, a few inches above the thick green grass.


    Behind me, a statue of an owl perched over some kind of altar where incense burned. Glowing purple runes grew dim in the stone around my feet. My. . . very large and fluffy feet.


    ¡°Holy shit, it worked! She answered my prayers!¡±


    My brain felt like it was torn in two. I wanted to look over at the woman saying something about prayers. But I also wanted to process what the fuck had happened to my feet. Scratch that, I wanted to investigate what¡¯d happened to my clothes.


    But the girl holding a torch stepped closer and spoke again.


    ¡°I never in a million years expected something like this to happen. You hear about things like this in the legends. But here you are. A genuine Luck Bunny.¡±


    I looked closer at the speaker while my brain tried to parse the words I was hearing with little success.


    My eyes took a moment to adjust to the torchlight. But when they finally did, I saw the woman stood OVER me by at least half a foot. She was clothed in grey trousers, a white collared shirt, and a black vest secured with three gold buttons.


    The firelight ebbed and flowed in the evening breeze, dousing her silver hair in dim hues of orange and yellow. The speaker¡¯s low ponytail lifted with the wind, and I found myself suddenly frigid, drawing my arms and legs in tight.


    Why is it so cold?! I thought. Was I reborn at the North Pole? Is the person I¡¯m supposed to help Mrs. Claus?


    ¡°Oh! Sorry. Here, let me grab you something from the wagon to cover up with,¡± the woman said, turning to run.


    But as she spun, I heard a sort of jingle or chime or bell. It was difficult to describe. As it rang in my ears, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and my vision faded to a world of gray. All color drained from my sight like someone pulled the stopper from a bathtub.


    Before I could turn my head to look at the world around me, two strings revealed themselves wrapped around the torchbearer, one red, one green. Each glowed with a rather cutting light. They pulsed in the gray scene before me, and I felt my hand drawn to each. I couldn¡¯t explain the urge. My nose twitched as I stepped closer to the red string.


    I didn¡¯t know what would happen if I touched it. I just knew. . . I wanted to. It was the most important thing in the world to me right this second. Forget the fact that I was cold. Forget whatever had happened to my feet. My instincts told me to grab the string. And I did.


    The moment my fingers traced the red string, it jolted my body like a live wire, and I watched a scene play out before me. The girl rushed forward, and within a few steps, the bushes next to us rustled. A hissing noise whispered into the night. And out burst a white mink that collided with her feet and caused the woman to trip. With no warning, she fell on top of her torch and quickly caught fire.


    Flinching, I let go of the red string and jumped back. My heart raced like a jackrabbit being chased by an owl.


    What the fuck was that? I thought.


    But the world around me remained gray. The girl inched forward in some reduced state of time. When I finally caught my breath, I felt my hand reaching for that green string. Did I really want more of whatever happened a moment ago?


    Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard Tank¡¯s voice saying, ¡°Hey Mikey, I think he likes it!¡±


    When my fingers traced the green string, I felt another live wire hit my brain. And this time, when the woman ran forward, I reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. A few seconds later, the mink hissed and ran out of the bushes before vanishing into the night, harming no one.


    Letting go of the green string, I paused to think, trying to decode what I¡¯d seen.


    They¡¯re almost like. . . two different outcomes, I thought. One lucky, one not so lucky.


    And with that realization, color suddenly flooded back into my world. I gasped as the torchbearer started to run toward her cart.


    Throwing my hand forward, I snatched her wrist at the last second. Startled, the woman turned to stare at me with a quizzical expression before that damn mink hissed and rushed out of the bushes. It drew both of our eyes until it vanished into the night, exactly as it had in my second vision.


    Oh shit, I thought. It actually happened.


    The woman clutching the torch just stood there blinking and looking at my hand, still holding her wrist.


    ¡°Wow. You really are a Luck Bunny, aren¡¯t you?¡± she said, gray eyes wide with wonder.


    ¡°Why do you keep calling me that?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. But immediately after I heard my voice, I yipped, startled because it did NOT match the voice I¡¯d heard for the last twenty-something years of my life.


    Free of my grasp, the torchbearer looked at me with her head cocked a little to the left.


    ¡°Look, uh, thanks for helping me. I can see you¡¯re a little frazzled. Why don¡¯t you let me get you a blanket from the wagon, and I¡¯ll answer any questions you have? Unless, of course, I don¡¯t know the answer. But even then, I promise I¡¯ll just straight-up tell you that.¡±


    Now that time had resumed its normal flow, I was suddenly extremely aware of how very cold and naked I¡¯d become post-reincarnation.


    As I pondered the craziness that I¡¯d been reborn into, the girl ran towards her wagon. While she was gone, I finally took a moment to look down at myself. From head to toe, I appeared to be covered in a thin tan and white fur.


    ¡°Oh, what the fuck,¡± I hissed.


    Turning around, I spotted a poofy bob of a tail just above my bare ass. I poked it once or twice, and it twitched, confirming the damn thing was attached to me.


    Pulling the short hair on my head forward, I found brown wavy hair in my vision. But the biggest shock came when I ran my hands through my hair and found a large pair of fluffy ears that swiveled to and fro.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way this is real,¡± I whispered to myself.


    Shivering until my teeth chattered, I looked over myself some more, noting a modest bosom I¡¯d been granted post-reincarnation and the subsequent replacement of my dick with a small slit between my legs.


    And where I expected to be upset or outraged, I instead found myself. . . laughing. I laughed. I cackled. I chortled. I doubled forward and giggled at the outright insanity of it all. And when I couldn¡¯t laugh anymore, tears leaked from my eyes without warning. I curled up on the ground, knees to my chest, crying. I wailed. I sobbed. I whimpered. A flood of emotions washed away any rational thoughts I might have formed.


    My heart beat strong, and it told me this was good. I was right. I was. . . exactly what I asked for.


    ¡°Soft. . . and lucky,¡± I mumbled, wiping the tears from my eyes.


    The woman who greeted me earlier came running back with a brown fuzzy blanket of some kind. She quickly wrapped it around my shoulders.


    ¡°There ya go. It¡¯s okay. No need to cry. We¡¯ll get you nice and warm. Come with me, I¡¯ll build a small fire,¡± she said, taking my hand and leading me over to a wagon.


    Getting closer to the wagon, I suddenly noticed the back was covered and contained a small door. It looked like a cross between a carriage and a flatbed wagon. It was strange to see a door on the back, though. It almost gave the vehicle a camper feel.


    Helping me up to the buckboard, the torchbearer tucked the blanket tight around me, pushing the edges under my legs and the wood of the wagon. My cheeks flushed as she did this. Nobody had ever. . . wrapped a blanket around me before.


    ¡°My word, you¡¯re a tiny thing, aren¡¯t ya? Even back home, I¡¯m not exactly the tallest girl in town, and you¡¯re smaller than me.¡±


    I just nodded slowly, unsure of what to do with that information. Being small wasn¡¯t exactly part of my repertoire in my last life.


    ¡°What do I call you? I figure you gotta be getting tired of me just saying ¡®Luck Bunny¡¯ over and over, huh?¡±


    Her voice was. . . bouncy. The girl who I¡¯d been sent to help by a literal goddess was. . . plucky? What was the best way to describe her? She just didn¡¯t seem to have much of a care in the world.


    Oh right! She¡¯d asked for my name.


    ¡°Sorry, I keep staring. I just can¡¯t believe it. I¡¯ve been praying to Opha for years now. I just never expected her to send me a Bunny Goddess.¡±


    G¡ªgoddess? She thinks I¡¯m a goddess? I thought.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what I found more surprising. The fact that I was apparently some minor deity. Or that I was a godDESS, not a GOD.


    The thing I wasn¡¯t, was upset. I¡¯d given Ciri instructions that were vague as hell, and Opha¡¯s little phone had placed me here in circumstances that were far from miserable. Well, except for the cold.


    As my brain blanked on a name, I just kept picturing an angel with curly reddish hair, dressed in white pants and a tank top, wings hidden from the eyes of most. She spoke with a taunting voice as she said, ¡°Are you judging me now, John?¡±


    I loved her in everything she was in. She played angels, witches, ancient beings, sprites, and so much more. Every movie I watched her in left me feeling whatever shred of emotion my heart was capable of cobbling together. And only now did I realize that I spent my life wanting to be her. Funny how reincarnation brought clarity. So maybe. . . just maybe. . . since I was a whole world away from her, she wouldn¡¯t mind if I borrowed her name?


    ¡°Tilda,¡± I said, clearing my throat, still not used to my softer voice. ¡°You can call me Tilda.¡±


    The silver-haired girl smiled and nodded.


    ¡°Pleased to meet you, Tilda. You can call me Juno.¡±


    I smiled, and she spent the next few minutes fishing around for stones that she then stacked in a ring. As my shivering slowed, courtesy of this nice comfy blanket, Juno found some twigs and a few sticks.


    When I finally felt warm enough to stand again and move to help her, Juno turned to me and motioned that I stay seated. The squeaking of the wagon beneath my large feet betrayed me.


    ¡°This won¡¯t take long. You¡¯ve already helped me once tonight. I¡¯d hate to think what would have happened if I¡¯d collided with that little creature,¡± Juno said.


    The vision from the red string swam to the surface of my mind.


    Nothing good, I thought.


    Before long, Juno had a fire going.


    It cast a bigger light and cone of warmth around the side of the wagon than the torch did. Juno took my hand and moved me over against a large sack she¡¯d pulled out of the wagon.


    While I sat against it, she dug through the bag and fished out a jar with some kind of black powder inside, an old tin kettle, two tin cups, and a spoon.


    I watched in silence as Juno put a cooking tray around the small fire and fetched some water from a canteen, filling the kettle.


    While the water warmed, Juno scooped out some of the black powder from her jar, placing it into the cups, and I realized at once that it was cocoa. My nose twitched, and Juno just giggled.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s just adorable,¡± she said. ¡°Again, sorry, but I¡¯ve never seen a Luck Bunny before. It¡¯s gonna take some getting used to.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°What¡¯s there to get used to, exactly?¡±


    She snickered.


    ¡°Oh, I dunno. That black twitching nose of yours. Those little whiskers. The pale snout. Maybe the large buck teeth. It¡¯s all a bit shocking to see in person,¡± Juno said.


    I didn¡¯t know how to respond to that, so I said nothing.


    When the water came to a boil, rattling the tin something awful, Juno pulled it off the cooking tray with a thick rag. She filled the two tin cups with steaming water and mixed them with her spoon until we had hot chocolate.


    She handed me a cup, holding it with the rag, and I gingerly took the handle. Blowing on the hot chocolate until I could take a small sip, I smiled. One of the sticks in the fire pit crackled, and a wash of embers flew up into the air, dancing around like fireflies.


    I took another sip.


    ¡°It¡¯s good,¡± I said, even though Juno hadn¡¯t asked.


    ¡°Glad you like it. I got that cocoa powder a long way from here in a city called Jakar.¡±


    Looking back over at the wagon before my eyes returned to Juno, I asked, ¡°Do you travel a lot?¡±


    She smiled and nodded.


    ¡°Comes with the territory of being a Messenger.¡±


    My eyes widened.


    ¡°You. . . deliver messages?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yup! Scrolls, parchments, letters, and even a few small packages now and again. There¡¯s not a lot of us in the Letter Carriers Guild, but we¡¯re growing. Soon we¡¯ll be a big respectable workers guild like the Lamari Carpenters or the Kraft Merchants.¡±


    Taking another sip, I absorbed everything she was saying.


    ¡°So what¡¯s a messenger doing praying to Opha for luck?¡± I asked. ¡°Doesn¡¯t really seem like a profession you¡¯d need much luck for.¡±


    Juno raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know much about delivering messages, do ya?¡±


    I fought a snicker.


    ¡°It¡¯s a dangerous road. You never know when you¡¯ll be surrounded by bandits, have your documents seized by a suspicious noble, or be blackmailed for information by spies. I¡¯ve been praying for years to have better luck. And Opha, in her infinite wisdom, finally saw fit to grant me a Luck Bunny for my travels. I just can¡¯t tell you how thankful I am you appeared at her shrine tonight.¡±


    The smile on Juno¡¯s face stirred something in me, and I fought to keep from crying again. Being wanted, hearing someone express sincere gratitude for my existence, shit, it was almost too much. And suddenly feeling things again after years of being, let¡¯s face it, dead inside? Well, it was all I could do not to sob big old tears that would smother the campfire.


    ¡°That is why you¡¯re here, right?¡± Juno asked with a hint of vulnerability in her voice. It peeked through like a mouse cautiously looking outside its hole for hungry cats.


    What else could I say?


    ¡°It would appear so.¡±


    That earned me an even bigger smile from Juno.


    ¡°Fantastic! The road is long, and my fortune has been rather thin up until now. So here¡¯s to a luckier future,¡± she said, holding out her tin cup.


    Grinning, I clinked mine softly against hers.


    ¡°To a luckier future,¡± I echoed.

 Chapter Two: Herbivorized

    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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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.¡±

 Chapter Three: Lucky Scritches

    Juno¡¯s wagon bumped along the path that just an hour ago transitioned from dirt to stone. I thought I¡¯d hate the jarring bumps and noises of wagon wheels, but in truth, I found them soothing.


    Starlings flew overhead, clustered together like a cloud dancing between this tree and that scattered across large fields. I just smiled and watched, taking in the smell of the countryside. It felt. . . a little like home.


    Bartlesville was the biggest town in the county, but it was still small and sat in the middle of the countryside, which I loved. Sometimes, when my mind could briefly forget that I was deeply unhappy, I¡¯d go for long walks through the nearby fields. I¡¯d often bump into wild turkeys or deer or take a few minutes to lean against a tree and watch the clouds above drift lazily by.


    I was glad to see that I¡¯d been reincarnated in a land like this instead of some giant dystopian futuristic hellscape. My thoughts wandered back to the fictional realm of Fangamus where an android rebellion shattered the city¡¯s landscape. As I pictured the city, my mind wandered back to the soft and haunting electric hums of rhea_born that told the story.


    Somehow I doubt electronic music exists here, I thought, scratching one of my ears. I resumed listening to the wagon wheels on the road below me, feeling the occasional jolt of the buckboard as Svenoldson pulled us along toward Kylson.


    It was nice that Juno and I had already learned to settle into silence with each other. Recognizing that I was going to be on the road all the time now, I knew there would be moments when it was just nice to vibe in quiet. I tried not to think on what that meant for the small inkling of unidentified feelings about the messenger growing in my brain. It was probably just gratitude. Yeah, that was it. She¡¯d welcomed me into her life so easily, giving me clothes and food. It was just gratitude. Had to be.


    My mother used to joke that I¡¯d follow anyone who fed me regularly. That¡¯s how she got my father to marry her back in ¡®73, she¡¯d chuckle, telling the story.


    They were good to me. I wasn¡¯t sure how they would¡¯ve responded to me confessing that I¡¯m strangely happy to be a girl now if they were still around. The Bunny Goddess thing would probably be more difficult for them to take given their particular religious habits. But maybe they would have come around.


    ¡°So. . . how long have you been praying to Opha for a Luck Bunny?¡± I asked, out of nowhere.


    Juno smiled but kept her eyes on the road.


    ¡°A few years now. My life¡¯s had more downs than ups, and I got tired of failing to fix it by myself. So, I figured divine intervention would help,¡± she said.


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°More downs than ups? You lost that many socks while washing your clothes, huh?¡±


    Keeping her breathing even, Juno didn¡¯t respond for a moment, and my heart sputtered.


    ¡°Not socks,¡± she said. ¡°Oh, hey! That¡¯s the gate for Kylson up ahead. See that massive white and red flag? We¡¯re almost there.¡±


    I looked up the road and spotted a large stone gate coming into view. Above the gate, a flag big enough to cover a baseball field blew in the breeze. As Juno said, it was painted with red and white bars with what appeared to be a lantern in the center.


    ¡°Is that a lantern?¡± I asked, covering my eyes.


    Juno nodded.


    ¡°Kylson¡¯s biggest export is glasswork. And the vast majority of it goes into lanterns. Big ones. Small ones. Some are as tall as a doorframe. The artists here are something else,¡± my companion said.


    ¡°Why glasswork?¡± I asked. ¡°How does a city even get started making that its chief export?¡±


    ¡°Well, the city sits on the southern shore of a massive lake. And the lakebed is covered in precious metals of some sort or another. They wash ashore and mix with the sand making it unique for glasswork. I¡¯ve delivered a few smaller artworks from glassworkers who had pieces to ship to their patrons. And they love to talk about their craft.¡±


    Juno¡¯s strained breathing from earlier was gone, so either she was in a better mood, or the messenger had gotten whatever she was feeling tamped down.


    We eventually made our way to the gate, which was wide enough for two wagons to sit side-by-side.


    A few city guards stood around, chatting. One or two held papers and checked wagons going into the city ahead of us.


    Seeing Juno dress the way she did was one thing. That was a lone individual I met in the middle of the night. But these folks were walking around in honest-to-god leather armor with swords hanging from their hips and shields hanging from their backs. Each round wooden shield bore a painted lantern in the center, same colors as the flag.


    I really am in another time, I thought, feeling a bit like Wishbone when he wound up in King Arthur¡¯s court.


    A different guard stepped out of the gate, and I spotted a people-sized owl walking around on two legs (wait, they always did that), brown and white fathers ruffled a bit under their armor. Sharp yellow eyes looked over our wagon and then me. Those eyes widened as the hootwing noticed me and started to approach.


    ¡°Ho! Is that Juno I see? Been a few months since you were last through here, huh?¡± the hootwing called, their talons clicking on the cobblestone beneath us. Their voice was surprisingly loud and booming for such a wiry-looking fellow.


    ¡°Hey there, Bilo. It¡¯s good to see you again. And no, I was here just a few weeks ago! You must have still been on your honeymoon,¡± Juno said, reaching behind her and pulling around a leather satchel with a long strap.


    She brought Svenoldson to a halt and dug for papers.


    ¡°How¡¯s your new husband doing? Finally get the nest all settled?¡± my companion asked.


    Bilo managed to find a soft smile beneath their yellow beak.


    ¡°Garyl is keeping the nest nice and orderly. It didn¡¯t take long for him to get me trained, haha! No coats on the floor. No blades on the dining room table. No armor in the bedroom. But truth be told, I wouldn¡¯t trade him for the world. He¡¯s the best thing that ever happened to me.¡±


    I smiled listening to their exchange. From the way Juno and Bilo looked at each other, I could tell they went way back. I guess when you traveled frequently to places, you got to know regulars. God knows I did on my mail route back home.


    When you brought letters to people, in a sense, you became part of the conversation between them and their loved ones. This remained true even though I didn¡¯t pen the letter or sign the card. But by handing it off, I was part of the conversation. I didn¡¯t insert myself into their lives, but I adored the bridge I helped construct just the same, an invisible carpenter of sorts in their correspondence.


    Juno found a document declaring her goods and handed it over to Bilo, who halfheartedly examined it. I watched their sharp eyes scan between the lines, nodding before they gave official approval.


    ¡°Light load, huh? Small paint set for an artist on John Street, sealed diplomatic dispatch for Governess Lynn, a basket of imported Eastern fruits for a baker, five letters, and a box of enchanted threads for a tailor on the south edge of the city. Seems like you were carrying twice that last I saw you, ah? Unless your new companion makes up for the lighter volume. Who is she?¡± Bilo asked, reaching into a leather pouch tied to their waist opposite their sword.


    I was shocked to see that while Bilo¡¯s arms and legs were covered in feathers like any other owl from my world (though much larger), they still had hands with five fingers just like me and Juno. Albeit, smaller, nimbler hands.


    My brain considered their words a minute later.


    She, I thought. Bilo called me she.


    It was one thing for Juno to call me a woman. But all sorts of bells and whistles in my brain started to chime when I realized this complete stranger thought the same of me. An awkward giddiness brought a smile to my snout that I couldn¡¯t readily chase away. I felt my fingers buzzing again, so I held them tight to my lap.


    ¡°Oh, Tilda? She¡¯s my helper. I¡¯m gonna get her signed up with the Messenger Guild while I¡¯m in town. Probably tomorrow so I can get all this stuff delivered today,¡± Juno said, placing a hand on my shoulder.


    Gooseflesh broke out on my arms, even if you couldn¡¯t see it under my soft tan fur. That was a normal reaction. Probably just more. . . what was a good word for it? ¡°Joy¡± seemed too generic. ¡°High¡± didn¡¯t quite match my lack of drugs. It was sort of in the same vein as nostalgia, but not quite that. Ah! Euphoria. I felt euphoric when I wore Juno¡¯s dress. And I felt euphoric when Bilo called me ¡°she.¡± So Juno¡¯s touch eliciting this reaction was just more of that, right? Of course. No other explanation needed.


    Am I thinking too fast? I thought. No, wait, that¡¯s not possible. Unless, because I¡¯m a Bunny Goddess, my thoughts are now stupendously quick.


    Bilo¡¯s words brought me out of my thoughts, which were apparently moving at fiber-optic speed.


    ¡°It¡¯s about time you found yourself a helper. You know, I worry about you being out on the road by yourself for so long.¡±


    Juno rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Your concern is touching, Bilo, truly. Are we all in order? I¡¯ve gotta get this shipment into the city.¡±


    The hootwing chuckled and asked, ¡°Will your work keep you too busy to drink with me and Garyl tonight? Or can we find you and Tilda at the Singing Swan?¡±


    They pulled out a stamp from their pouch, but no ink. I raised an eyebrow and did not lower it one fraction of an inch as the guard raised it to their mouth and whispered, ¡°Approved.¡± Red runes around the stamp¡¯s base sizzled to life. My nose twitched as a soft burning scent penetrated the widening nostrils. And then, Bilo stamped the bottom of the manifest with a bit of smoke rising from the paper. As they pulled it away, a tiny lantern had been burned into the parchment with the day¡¯s date. Skysong 13th of the Sixth Age, I read.


    My name! Not the one on my birth certificate (did they even have those here?) but the one I¡¯d stolen. They used it like it was nothing.


    How do they not see how incredible that is? I thought. They¡¯re treating my name as any other part of a mundane exchange.


    As my fingers buzzed all the more with excitement, I looked over at some of the other guards and watched them examine the wagon behind us driven by a shellback wrapped in a long black cloak. Her green scales and red eyes were a striking combination. She didn¡¯t appear to be in as jovial a mood as Juno was with her friend.


    ¡°Yes, yes. I imagine that¡¯s where we¡¯ll stay tonight given that the Messenger Guild members get a pretty hefty discount.¡±


    Bilo stepped back and waved us through the gate, large iron bars suspended about 15 feet above our heads.


    My companion clicked her tongue, and Svenoldson started moving forward slowly into the city. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Oh! Juno, I almost forgot to tell you,¡± Bilo said, jogging back to us and walking alongside the wagon. ¡°You won¡¯t get that dispatch to Governess Lynn today. Same-day appointments with her are kind of hard to come by right now. So I¡¯d plan on giving it to her tomorrow, and even then, that¡¯s only if you¡¯re fortunate enough to catch her Secretary of Speech before sundown.¡±


    ¡°Is her Secretary of Speech still that old dude with the long braided beard?¡±


    Bilo shook their feathered head.


    ¡°No. He retired last week. I haven¡¯t met her new hire yet, but I know his name is Gat Pentacost. He¡¯s the son of a prominent banker in the city. Supposed to be nice enough, but few of the City Guard have seen him out and about.¡±


    Rubbing her chin as we passed a carriage pulled off to the side, Juno thought for a moment.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll head over to the Governance Hall first thing. Thanks for the warning.¡±


    As Bilo turned to leave, a wave of magic rose from within, and I found them nearly frozen, slowly stepping away from the wagon in minuscule measurements. My eyes widened, and I gasped.


    Around me, noise distorted, like a radio that only picked up every other second of a song. Those starlings from earlier hung nearly suspended in the sky just outside the gate. Raising my eyes to the humongous flag, I found it billowing so slowly that I could nary detect a single fold of its cloth.


    Even the air entering and leaving my lungs had a lazy momentum to it.


    Turning, I found a familiar set of strings tied around Bilo, one red, one green. The threads moved like waves around their body. A pulse or an echo drew my fingers to the colored yarns of fate. No, not quite fate. That wasn¡¯t my domain. It was the demesne of my patron, Opha, Third Goddess of Fate. Luck was my domain. It was a subset of fate. I didn¡¯t know how I understood all this, just that I did.


    I lightly grasped the red string first, and the same jolt as last night raced down my arm, static electricity on steroids. In this vision, Bilo was no longer standing beside our wagon. They were peering under the tarp of the shellback¡¯s wagon behind us. And I heard a loud ¡°hoot!¡± of pain as they did so.


    Standing on the strangely firm buckboard, I looked back in horror to see a viper sinking its fangs into the flesh around Bilo¡¯s beak. They fell backward onto the cobblestone yelling as blood started to drip down their chin.


    Startled and feeling light-headed, I let go of the red string, finding Bilo before me once more, mid-walk and facing away from Juno.


    Taking a breath and trying to slow my heart rate, I swallowed nervously. After that, I closed my eyes and took a few steadying breaths. Gods. This was too much for me. Or it was supposed to be, right? Except, no. I was a goddess now, even if, in terms of power scale, I was more like Opha¡¯s demigoddess. But Bunny Demigoddess didn¡¯t roll off the tongue as easily.


    ¡°Shit,¡± I hissed.


    Shaking my little rabbit head, I dared to reach toward the green thread, unable to stop myself. Even if the unlucky vision had been jarring, the feeling of folding back these happenings just enough to get a tiny peek was strangely addictive.


    The green string showed me a vision of Bilo about to raise the tarp and then squinting. In their scrunched face, I saw hesitation. When they removed their hand from the tarp, a sharp hiss sounded off before something underneath bumped the covering where the hootwing¡¯s fingers had previously been.


    Stepping back in shock, Bilo placed a hand over their chest and took a nervous breath.


    ¡°Damn, Ms. Martha. You weren¡¯t kidding about your wares. I feel sorry for the pet owners who are going to buy these things,¡± Bilo huffed in the vision.


    Ms. Martha snapped at him before moving her cart forward, saying, ¡°Fortunately, the customers I¡¯m delivering these beautiful creatures to know how to avoid agitating them!¡±


    I let go of the string and resumed sitting on the buckboard with time still largely suspended around me.


    As I cleared my throat, I felt the liquid chronology around me slide through my fingers without an ounce of control. And suddenly, Bilo was walking back toward the wagon behind us.


    I stood at once.


    ¡°Bilo!¡± I called.


    They turned and stared at me, surprised by my outburst. Shrugging and walking back a second time, the hootwing raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Yes, Ms. Tilda? Is everything okay?¡±


    If I could sweat at that moment, I would¡¯ve been. My fur would be damp. As my heart rattled in my chest, I tried to choose my words carefully.


    ¡°Whatever you do, don¡¯t lift the tarp on the wagon behind us.¡±


    Confusion erupted on their face, and I saw a familiar scrunch aimed at me, just like in the vision.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± they asked.


    ¡°Just. . . if you value your beak, don¡¯t do it,¡± I said, holding my breath and trying to look calm. I think I failed at that last goal.


    Bilo exchanged a glance with Juno, and the guards around us who had paused to stare were now getting back to work.


    Juno just smiled, placed a hand on Bilo¡¯s shoulder, and whispered,¡± She¡¯s my Luck Bunny bestowed upon me by the Fate Goddess, Opha. Trust me, Tilda¡¯s already proven to be the real thing. I¡¯d just do as she says if I were you.¡±


    The hootwing slowly nodded but didn¡¯t appear to be any less confused.


    ¡°I want to hear more about her tonight,¡± Bilo said. ¡°A Luck Bunny. . . gods above, who¡¯d have guessed?¡±


    We left Bilo behind and entered Kylson, which contained two gates, I learned. The Regina Gate and the Svardo Gate, both named after past beloved governors. As Juno informed me a bit more about the city, I turned to her and asked, ¡°You both threw around the name Governess Lynn. Who is she?¡±


    Stretching one arm out wide until her elbow popped, Juno led her daisy moose up a mild slope and past several butcher shops. The smell of several meats nearby, both raw and cooking left me instantly nauseous. I fought my guts as I leaned over the buckboard side, seriously concerned I was going to hurl in the street.


    It was then I felt a cloth lightly pressed to my face, and the pleasant scent of citrus filled my nostrils. Suddenly, all the butcher odors were pushed outside of an impregnable gate surrounding my septum.


    Beside us, the butcher shops stood with smoke billowing from narrow tin chimneys. Most of the stores were made from brick and covered with shingled rooftops. I watched a stout woman with a cleaver shopping up what looked like mutton through a window we passed. She pulled back the blade and slammed it down into a wooden cutting board the size of a coffee table.


    Looking down, I noticed the cloth was covered in little white bunnies that looked like cotton balls.


    ¡°This is so cute,¡± I said. ¡°How did you make it smell like lemon?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s enchanted to block out other smells and carry that one fragrance. They sell little trinkets like this in Sunbalm where the Mages¡¯ College sits. Students have festivals twice a year selling small enchanted objects to raise money for tuition. I happened to be passing through during one such market day and bought this. I figured it¡¯d help show Opha my devotion to the idea of traveling with a bunny everywhere,¡± she chuckled. ¡°And if it didn¡¯t work, hey, I had something to cover my mouth when bargaining with a merchant who bathed in cologne.¡±


    Svenoldson continued carrying the wagon up the hill, and we, at last, left the Butcher District behind us. The last thing I saw was a man carrying a cage with two roosters inside walking toward one of the shops. His fingers were bleeding from where he held the cage, and he looked less than thrilled.


    That man¡¯s gonna be eating Tenessee Fried Chicken before the night is over, I thought, shivering. Shit. I used to LOVE drumsticks.


    When I offered the cloth back to Juno, she winked at me (which did more things that I assume were euphoria-related) and said, ¡°You keep it. I think your nose is a little more sensitive than mine.¡±


    I opened my mouth to argue, and Juno simply placed a hand on top of my head, earning a small yip from yours truly.


    After a few seconds of this, I continued, ¡°You probably spent good money on this. . . and. . . and should. . . um, that is¡­,¡±


    My voice trailed off as Juno ran her nails around the base of my giant ears, ruffling my brown wavy hair. Her touch was gentle but consistent, and all I heard in my head at the time was static. Connection to brain successfully severed.


    Shivers and waves of contentedness zigzaged down my neck and shoulders until the amount of gooseflesh on my arms tripled. With an involuntary droop, my shoulders lowered, and my eyes fluttered.


    ¡°I figured that¡¯d keep you quiet. You see, Tilda, I¡¯m not a huge fan of pointless arguments,¡± Juno said with her unstoppably cheerful tone. ¡°Anyway, when I was seven, my pa brought me home a pet bunny. He¡¯d killed the mother on a hunting trip and found this runt in a nearby burrow. That little stinker was rightfully skittish of people, but it warmed up to me soon enough.¡±


    I could hear her just fine, but my brain felt like it was being slow-cooked in butter.


    ¡°Anyway, whenever the poor thing started to shake and panic, I¡¯d just do this. It was like an instant stop for any crying or whining from little Winnifred. And I¡¯m glad to see it works on you, too.¡±


    My head bobbed as we bounced through a pothole in the street. Behind us, another cart being pulled by two mules stopped to unload wares at a cobbler¡¯s shop. The owner came out, screaming, ¡°You¡¯re two days late!¡±


    But I didn¡¯t care. I was. . . very euphoric about Juno¡¯s touch. I¡¯d had a few relationships with girls back in my world. But none of them ever ran their fingers along my head like this.


    None of the women I dated saw me as the soft person I so desperately wanted to be, and as such, their touches didn¡¯t match what I was unconsciously crying out for. And I was too scared to ask for gentleness. That wasn¡¯t something men were supposed to request inside the bedroom or out. And it¡¯s a shame because I¡¯m convinced now more than ever that more people in the world need a soft touch, to be treated tenderly like a cotton swab or a ball of yarn.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it was being a girl or being a bunny that got me this soft touch I¡¯d always yearned for, but I was damn glad to have it now.


    Yeah. . . gratitude, I thought. That¡¯s all this reaction is.


    ¡°So don¡¯t bother arguing about being given stuff now and again. I¡¯m giving you the rabbit cloth. I¡¯m paying for your clothes. And tonight, I¡¯ll buy your dinner, drinks, and room. Not because you¡¯ll earn it or owe me a debt. But because I want to. You¡¯re my Luck Bunny, and you act like the kind of girl who¡¯s never been given or bought something cute in her life. . . no offense.¡±


    In that moment, I didn¡¯t think it was physically possible for me to be offended. There was just too much serotonin soaking my brain. I was surprised it didn¡¯t come pouring out of my giant ears.


    And when Juno gently grabbed an ear, slowly running her nails up and down it, I knew that I could have been dragged back to one of those butcher shops and cooked without being aware of it.


    ¡°Oh, and to answer your earlier question, Governess Lynn is the current ruler of Kylson. She¡¯s not hard to spot, either. Long blonde hair. Incredibly sunny disposition. Seriously, she makes me sound like a sourpuss. And at all times, she¡¯s surrounded by two shriekwings armed to the teeth and sworn to protect her at any cost.¡±


    My mouth felt a tad fuzzy, and at that moment, I began to wonder if the head scritches were the only thing causing my dizziness. I¡¯d soon learn that a little bit of magic drain was happening at the same time. Though neither Juno nor I knew it right then. And I certainly didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Shriekwings?¡± I pondered quietly, unable to form much coherent thought.


    Juno continued to navigate with the reins in her left hand, maneuvering Svenoldson past a stand selling pickles.


    ¡°You know, hawkfolk. Rumor has it the ones protecting her at all times are a pair of ex-assassins she saved on the day of their execution. The story goes they swore eternal fealty to her immediately afterward. Ever since, nobody¡¯s gotten within 20 feet of killing her. Ope! Whoa now, Svenoldson. Hold up.¡±


    Juno stopped scratching my ear, and I looked up just in time to see two members of the City Guard take a man with long black hair and the whitest teeth I¡¯d ever seen into custody.


    ¡°What the fuck are you doing?!¡± he yelled, struggling.


    The guards were twice his size and seemed to be holding him in place easily enough. One of them took off his helmet and said, ¡°Halt, Roderick Vildusk of Riverwalk. You¡¯re under arrest for crimes against Kylson and her people. Three banks have sworn in testimony before a judge that you robbed them last week. You¡¯re coming with us to the City Jail to answer for charges of thievery and skullduggery.¡±


    After a brief struggle, Roderick spat on the ground and said, ¡°Okay! Okay. I¡¯ll surrender. Shit.¡±


    The other guard pulled out a set of manacles and said, ¡°Smarter than you look, Roderick.¡±


    I only noticed it for a second, but Juno¡¯s hand that¡¯d been scratching my head seemed to shine briefly with an otherworldly gold shimmer.


    The fuck is that? was all I had time to think before the guards threw Roderick to the ground and secured his hands with the manacles.


    And as that thief hit the ground, wind rushing from his lungs, a small leather pouch full of coins shot out from Roderick¡¯s cloak at breakneck speed, struck a drainpipe on the cobbler¡¯s shop, raced upward, bounced off the store¡¯s gutters and went spinning down into Juno¡¯s open palm, coming to a sudden and perfect rest.


    Neither of the guards noticed the coins and started to lead Roderick away.


    Juno and I just stared at the bag, jaws practically on the buckboard by our feet, entirely raw with disbelief.


    The messenger finally shook her head and said, ¡°You saw that, right?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Did you do that?¡± she asked.


    I shook my head.


    Juno looked back and forth from my head to her hand several times, thinking up a storm. Behind our wagon, a pair of kids ran by, swinging sticks around like they were swords. One stuck a wagon wheel with a harmless but resounding THUNK.


    When her brainstorming session was complete, Juno said, ¡°Tilda, as crazy as this sounds, I think I borrowed luck from you by scratching your head for a few minutes.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow and realized that my magic did feel considerably more drained than it did prior to the heavenly head scritches.


    Throwing my shoulders up, all I could say was, ¡°Well, seems an even trade to me.¡±


    Then, before I could stop myself, I added, ¡°Feel free to do that again whenever you want, by the way.¡±


    All too late, I slapped a hand over my mouth. Juno sat there with a shit-eating grin, knowing exactly what I¡¯d spoken aloud.


    ¡°Noted, oh exalted Bunny Goddess. Now come on. We¡¯ve got to get moving and find a stable for Svenoldson. And wouldn¡¯t you know it? My precious daisy moose will be treated to the best lunch and dessert courtesy of one extraordinarily generous man by the name of Roderick Vildusk of Riverwalk.¡±


    With my nose twitching at the words ¡°lunch¡± and ¡°dessert,¡± I stared hungrily at Juno, who burst out laughing.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, my dear Luck Bunny. Mr. Vildusk will be buying our lunch and dessert as well.¡±


    And that left me very happy.

 Chapter Four: The Invitation

    Finding a stable for Svenoldson was easy enough. And I was rather surprised to see it filled with other deer and elk that were apparently domesticated in this world. Only one or two stalls had horses in them. I wanted to ask Juno about that, but it never seemed like the right time to bring up the fact that I was from another world, let alone another gender.


    Would she be disappointed the Bunny Goddess she prayed so hard for all those years wasn¡¯t born one from the start?


    Well, I guess I was REborn from the start. That is ¡ª I was given a fresh start here, I thought. Maybe that counts for something?


    I felt a soft poke on my shoulder.


    ¡°You look so deep in thought. Watcha thinkin¡¯ about?¡± Juno asked.


    It was only now that I was starting to realize she had a bit of what¡¯d be called a Southern drawl where I came from. Did I still? I guess it wouldn¡¯t be called that here. And they probably didn¡¯t have tape recorders for me to find out.


    We¡¯d entered the central business district of Kylson, and the structures around me were much taller than the outskirts of town, several three and four-story buildings made of mixed lumber and brick lined the street before us. We passed restaurants serving everything from salads to salmon.


    People ate outside, sitting around small stone tables with cushioned chairs, enjoying the fresh air. Although it was a little blustery in the street, when I came within touching distance of some outdoor tables, I felt a small wave of magic pass over my fingers. In truth, it felt a little like static cling. Only then did I notice glowing blue stones dangling from each table, radiating an aura of warmth and creating a small cozy bubble that seemed to redirect the wind elsewhere.


    ¡°Now that¡¯s a nifty little enchantment,¡± I mumbled. When Juno cocked her head to the side, I remembered she asked me a question.


    Clearing my throat, I said, ¡°Just thinking about. . . Fevara, actually. I¡¯m not from this world. So, if I appear to be unfamiliar with the way you do things, I¡¯d just ask for a little more patience and grace, please.¡±


    Juno raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Tilda, the way you speak, it almost sounds like you¡¯re asking for permission just to be. . . well ¡ª present, to exist. It¡¯s not how one would expect a goddess to talk, y¡¯know?¡±


    My eyes only leaked a little hearing that. I hadn¡¯t been raised to ask for permission to exist, right? I mean ¡ª sure, my family expected me to stick with the straight and narrow path in life. And they lightly chastised me when I dipped a pinky toe in a puddle they didn¡¯t want to understand. But that wasn¡¯t the same thing as me asking for permission to exist, right?


    I thought back to my grandfather walking into my room when I was listening to a French musician named C¨¦cile Corbel. I found her music to be soft, pleasant, and just downright peaceful listening. But he just started laughing at the top of his lungs.


    ¡°Why are you listening to that?¡± he asked in between wheezing. ¡°Do you even understand what she¡¯s singing about? Snails? The Eiffel Tower? Don¡¯t you feel silly for listening to something like this? Brandon, tell me you didn¡¯t waste your hard-earned money on a weird French CD.¡±


    After that, I returned the CD to Dan¡¯s Record Shop and swapped it out for a Journey album. I didn¡¯t hate it, but I never wanted to feel like that again, like something I honestly enjoyed was pure ridiculousness.


    But again, this wasn¡¯t the same as asking for permission to exist. That was just. . . a grandpa giving his grandchild a hard time. He showed his affection that way. It didn¡¯t seem right to go digging through my memories of my grandfather and start lookin¡¯ for trouble.


    ¡°I¡¯m. . . sorry?¡± I asked, looking at Juno with a puzzled expression.


    She frowned a little, not in anger, but in concern.


    ¡°You¡¯re apologizing to me for not sounding exactly how I imagined a goddess would?¡±


    I thought about her words for a second. And I couldn¡¯t seem to find out exactly what she wanted me to say, which only brought a flurry of panic in my mind. I was usually pretty good at figuring out what people wanted to hear, what would cause the least amount of trouble, and giving it to them.


    ¡°Um, maybe?¡± I stuttered.


    Juno heaved the leather backpack she wore a little higher over her shoulder before turning back to me.


    ¡°Tilda, do you expect me to cook you tonight and eat rabbit stew?¡±


    I snickered.


    ¡°Exactly. That¡¯d be ridiculous. You¡¯ve got a very large and adorable pair of fuzzy feet, and you¡¯re gonna get exhausted if you try to walk on eggshells all the time with ¡®em. Even with divinity in your grasp. So loosen up a bit, darlin¡¯. I¡¯m not disappointed you are the way you are. If anything, I¡¯m a little more worried that the Heavens aren¡¯t all they¡¯re cracked up to be if you came down here lookin¡¯ like the other gods regularly pushed you into the sand and stole your money.¡±


    That visual left me snorting.


    I wasn¡¯t pushed into the sand, but I did have to read a lot of snarky letters, I thought. The irony of Opha sending postage to sass me into reincarnation, only to be responsible for answering the prayers of another mailwoman once I got here.


    ¡°Sorry about all that,¡± I mumbled.


    With a deeper frown, Juno reached into her backpack and pulled out a letter, gently swatting me on the head with it.


    ¡°No more apologies! I hereby place a moratorium on apologies for the next hour,¡± she growled.


    ¡°So¡ª¡± I started out of instinct before she interrupted me with a light WHAP on the noggin again.


    ¡°No!¡± she snapped. ¡°No more!¡±


    Before long we were both laughing, and June returned the weapon to her bag. Peace reigned once more.


    A shriekwing and her wife exited a restaurant in front of us carrying a bag of fresh bread. I fought the urge to float down the path after them smelling their bread as though I were in a cartoon.


    Around the street, rainbow-colored pigeons hopped and pecked at crumbs left by strangers, some intentionally, some by accident. My eyes widened at the sight. Fevara was a funny little place. I wasn¡¯t sure of much when it came to the new home I¡¯d been given, but I did understand two things. First, being a girl (even a bunny girl) was an infinite improvement over whatever the fuck I¡¯d been as Brandon June. And second, I didn¡¯t have to figure out this magical place alone. Juno seemed dedicated to helping me learn all about it.


    We passed another restaurant, and I stole a peek through one of the front windows to see a set of customers devouring what appeared to be kimbap. My mouth drooled as I watched the rice and fresh veggies wrapped tightly in seaweed. Each table inside was decorated with small wooden carvings of animals, some I recognized (like lions and fish) and others I didn¡¯t (something that walked on ten legs). A hatchling hootwing chewed on a dog carving with their beak at a neighboring table. I giggled at the sight.


    Juno and I sidestepped to avoid a man wearing a large green shirt walking by, carrying a load of firewood. Someone held a door open for him as he walked into the restaurant serving kimbap.


    We stopped around the corner at an artist¡¯s gallery filled with paintings of portraits and common items found in a house, a wastepaper basket, tissues, silverware, etc. While I looked at the artwork, Juno delivered a small paint set.


    The artist, a shorter man with warm brown skin and hazel eyes, wore a smile the size of a paintbrush when he opened the package.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect this for another week or two at the earliest,¡± he said, carefully examining every color Juno had brought him.


    My companion winked.


    ¡°That¡¯s our goal at the Letter Carriers Guild. On-time deliveries will suffice, but early arrivals are quite nice.¡±


    I stared at my companion and slowly blinked. How often did she rehearse that motto? Because none of it sounded forced. Juno was like. . . Biazzaro Newman.


    A few minutes later, after Juno got the artist¡¯s signature for confirmation of delivery, we were on our way to the Governance Hall. It was time to request a meeting with Governess Lynn. I turned to Juno and asked, ¡°Hey, is your group the Messenger Guild or the Letter Carriers Guild? Because I¡¯ve heard you call it both now.¡±


    My companion fished around in her bag and pulled out a tin badge painted gold and pinned to a thick-cut leather square. It was about the size of her hand. The badge was shaped like a scroll tied shut with string. At the bottom of the leather square, also painted in gold, were the words ¡°Letter Carriers Guild.¡±


    ¡°The LCG is our official name, but if that¡¯s too long for folks, they¡¯ll just say the ¡®Messenger Guild.¡¯ It¡¯s all the same to me. I don¡¯t care what they call us. It¡¯s just my job to deliver their letters.¡±


    I nodded. That made sense.


    Where I came from, I worked for the American Postal Service. The APS. But most folks just said they were going to the post office. Nobody fussed about it too much. We were confused for the Federation Express or United Package Service by our customers enough as it was.


    ¡°And. . . who pays when you deliver a letter or package? I¡¯m used to those kinds of services being paid for by ¡ª taxes,¡± I said, thinking back to the APS.


    Juno circled in front of me and started to walk backward with her arms wrapped behind her head. I waited for her to bump into something, but the messenger kept walking straight without issue.


    ¡°Well, normally this information is only available to guild members, but seeing as you¡¯ll be signed up before the end of the night, I guess I can tell you,¡± she said, winking.


    My cheeks flushed. Er ¡ª they would have if bunnies could do that.


    I flashed her a small smile and waited for Juno to continue.


    ¡°We have two kinds of customers at the guild, patrons and dayturns. Patrons give the guild a sizable payment at the start of each year, and their letters are carried all over Fevara as needed. Dayturns are spare customers who come in when they need something, pay a calculated rate based on speed, distance, and availability of messengers, and call it quits immediately afterward.¡±


    An interesting model, to say the least, I thought.


    We passed another few members of the Kylson City Guard who were listening to a shopkeeper describe the person who broke their window the night before. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Anyway, I keep a registered log of parcels each month, along with signatures from branch leaders of the cities where I picked up deliveries. At the start of each month, I just swing into the closest LCG branch, submit my log to the coinkeeper, and collect my payment the next day. It¡¯s a good time to join the guild, Tilda! We¡¯re new and scrappy, but we¡¯re growing our reach to most of the cities across the continent.¡±


    Looking above us, I spotted a series of second-story and third-story clotheslines split between upper residences and stretched across the road. I wondered how they worked out which residence got to use the clothesline and when. Seemed a might troublesome to me, but then again, I was used to a big backyard to hang all my clothes in each weekend.


    It took another 10 minutes of walking until we arrived at the Governance Hall. The large municipal structure that Juno informed me held the governess¡¯ seat, offices for her five secretaries (speech, guard, trade, faith, and secrets), the city treasury, and an audience chamber for public announcements and meetings.


    ¡°You know, she¡¯s the first governess or governor of Kylson to expand the Commoner¡¯s Court and give them a chamber in the Governance Hall,¡± Juno said, watching a confused look spread across my face. ¡°That¡¯s a. . . civilian authority that watches for corruption among city officials and gathers a variety of reports for the governess. She meets with them once per quarter and hears their concerns and suggestions.¡±


    Juno held a wooden and glass door open for me as we walked into a large tiled room with a statue in the center depicting the governess, long hair flowing down past her shoulders as she stood nobly with a large smile on her face.


    A long series of windows made up most of the wall behind us, and a dual set of stone staircases led up to the second floor, where the secretaries¡¯ offices were. A large glass dome at the top of the lobby let in plenty of sunlight, and I even spotted a few sparrows that managed to sneak in and fly around up top. One of them had dared to build a nest in a tiny alcove. Seeing them made me giggle.


    My companion followed my gaze and said, ¡°Ah, the birds. They attempted to get rid of them a year ago, but the shriekhawks who protect Governess Lynn are so fond of seeing the tiny creatures day in and day out that they threatened to kill anyone who tried. Since then, nobody has mentioned it again.¡±


    Several portraits of past ruling figures hung in worn frames between the upper stories and the stairs. Suspended by large chains on a wall opposite the portraits was a glowing lantern the size of a carriage. A blue flame blazed within it.


    As my eyes stared at the flame in wonder, watching azure sparks flick against the glass now and again, Juno leaned in close and whispered, ¡°They lit that lantern 150 years ago when Kylson was founded, and it¡¯s never gone out since.¡±


    I found myself taking a moment to appreciate the city¡¯s identity. I was flummoxed that a group of people determined to build up a settlement into a town and eventually a city decided art and light were the two most important things to interweave with their future. Art in the form of glasswork and light bleeding forth from their lanterns to guide the way forward.


    Now, I didn¡¯t for a moment fool myself into thinking the city or its leaders were perfect. But I could believe enough of the people who worked in this hall throughout the last century-and-a-half were dedicated to goodness for their fellow woman and their city at large.


    ¡°Tell me something, Juno.¡±


    ¡°Anything,¡± she said, placing an elbow on my shoulder.


    I froze for a moment while my brain tried not to short-circuit at her touch.


    ¡°Governess Lynn, you tell me, expanded this Commoner¡¯s Court. She meets with them. Has she ever implemented any of their ideas?¡±


    Juno nodded.


    ¡°Well, keep in mind that I¡¯m no historian, Bunny Goddess. But I¡¯ve heard messengers stationed in Kylson say her biggest changes came in the form of work reform.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Work reform?¡±


    ¡°Yes, indeed. It seems a few years back, the Commoner¡¯s Court brought forth complaints that many workers in the city were overburdened from long shifts. This was true in everything from factory workers to restaurant employees to apprentice artisans. As a result, the city¡¯s economy was growing sluggish. So, looking at a series of recommendations from the court, Governess Lynn worked tirelessly with her trade and speech secretaries to limit work hours. With a few small exceptions, the entire city winds down on the final day of the week to rest.¡±


    I pictured Kylson implementing a sort of Sunday where you couldn¡¯t find hardly anything open, and people spent time with their families.


    ¡°And how did that go over?¡± I asked as a mother and her two sons strode past us talking excitedly about visiting the library next.


    Juno hadn¡¯t moved her elbow from my shoulder.


    ¡°Well, the city¡¯s still here, ain¡¯t it? I guess nobody burned it down. And judging by how fast our Messenger Guild branch here has expanded, I¡¯d say their economy picked up steam. She¡¯s remained quite the popular figure, even got her likeness engraved on all the new jinnie silver coins.¡±


    At my fifth confused glance of the day, Juno waved a hand.


    ¡°Eh, we¡¯ll go over coins later. Each country has four or five different kinds,¡± she said like it was no big deal.


    Can I use luck for myself to get out of memorizing currency? I thought, eyes wandering around the Governance Hall as though a sarcastic letter from Opha would magically float down from the heavens where I¡¯d apparently been pushed into sand and robbed.


    My companion led me up the stairs and towards the various secretary offices. It was about an hour after lunch, and the hall seemed a bit emptier than I expected.


    We walked about halfway down a carpeted hallway with five thick wooden doors at the end, each bearing a sign showing which secretary worked inside. Small blue fire lanterns hung along the walls, giving the area light.


    The offices for the Secretaries of Guard and Secrets were dark and appeared empty. The offices of the Secretaries of Trade and Speech each held men who appeared to be deep in discussion with people sitting behind desks that had papers strewn about.


    For now, the hallway belonged to Juno and me. She eyed the Secretary of Speech¡¯s office before stopping us.


    ¡°Well, at least there¡¯s no line. Hopefully, the guy in there is just about done with his visit,¡± she said.


    We waited for a few moments. The hallway was quiet despite the ambient noise of the comings and goings of Governance Hall visitors downstairs. And then ¡ª with no warning, I heard the soft creaking of leather armor and the light rustling of feathers behind us. In that instance, I knew no human ear would¡¯ve detected the noise. But I wasn¡¯t human anymore.


    Both of my tall fluffy ears twitched and turned as I spun to face the woman who¡¯d appeared behind us. I was greeted by a shriekwing about my height, and gold, white, and brown feathers covering her body. She bore yellow eyes hidden behind gold-rimmed glasses with wheat-colored hair to match.


    Just above her left elbow, a small chunk of feathers were missing, revealing a gnarly scar. A short sword of some kind hung tight over her left shoulder while a series of throwing knives covered her ribcage, tucked into folds of the armor.


    Under her armor, the newcomer wore a faded tank top and black trousers.


    Opening her curved gray beak, the shriekwing said, ¡°So it¡¯s not a costume or some disguise. You¡¯re a genuine bunny. No one else would have heard me coming.¡±


    My nose and whiskers twitched as an aura of violence leaked out from the girl in front of me.


    ¡°Never heard of a rabbitfolk before. And I¡¯ve traveled all across Fevara hunting people. So tell me, just what are you, exactly?¡±


    Her voice was just a bit more threatening than I tended to like, but a door slamming behind us and an older woman yelling made me jump all the more.


    ¡°Gyn, you put that knife away this instant!¡± a grandmotherly voice scolded. ¡°I will not have you spilling unnecessary blood in the presence of the Reverend Mother. Further still, I won¡¯t allow you to slay the first Bunny Goddess to ever grace Kylson. The gods would smite our city before you could vanish back into shadows or whatever it is you assassins do.¡±


    Assassins?! I thought, my blood turning to ice. My eyes dove down to see a small blade grasped in her feathered fingers.


    When had the shriekwing even pulled out that knife? How did it get into her hands without my noticing?


    Gyn caught my panic and smiled. It was a grin that simultaneously bore annoyance at being scolded and amusement that I could detect her approach, but not her pulling out a blade.


    ¡°Oh, Secretary of Faith Gwendolyn, how you wound me with your continued lack of grace and forgiveness. I WAS an assassin. But NOW I¡¯m a bodyguard for Governess Lynn, sworn to protect her on my life,¡± Gyn said. ¡°I¡¯ve been pardoned and reformed, Reverend Mother. You oversee the heads of 11 temples in this city, nine of which are dedicated to deities that profess some form of forgiveness. So why can¡¯t you let my past go?¡±


    Turning to look at the Reverend Mother but keeping an ear turned toward Gyn, I watched a woman who appeared to be in her 70s walking down the hall with a cane, a flowing holy robe of some sort trailing behind her. The Secretary of Faith stood strong with a firm grip on her bronze cane. Her skin was about the same color as Juno¡¯s but perhaps a little more pale and worn. Still, she wore her wrinkles and wisdom with pride. I could sense in the way she walked that Gwendolyn feared no one and didn¡¯t bemoan her age. She was damn proud of her hard-earned years.


    Her blue eyes bore into Gyn¡¯s, and the assassin-turned-bodyguard deflected her gaze.


    ¡°I don¡¯t let your past go because you clearly haven¡¯t. You still skulk about Kylson spilling blood in the night. Only now, you get to do it with government impunity. If you¡¯re so dedicated to protecting Governess Lynn, why aren¡¯t you with her right now?¡±


    Part of me wanted to dart back down the hallway and leave these two to their argument. (Honestly, I was thinking about placing my wager on Gwendolyn.) The other part of me was too scared to move.


    Gyn rolled her eyes and said, ¡°Relax, would you, Reverend Mother? Teena is keeping her safe while I hunt down a spy who¡¯s skulking around the Governance Hall today. Do forgive me, Bunny Goddess. I didn¡¯t know we were going to be graced by divinity today.¡±


    The shriekwing gave me a bit of a sassy, yet dramatic bow.


    When she rose, and before I could say anything, Gyn turned to Juno.


    ¡°Ah, and you¡¯re a messenger from the guild, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Juno snapped out of her thoughts at once.


    ¡°Wow! Either your intelligence is really good, or your ability to memorize faces is,¡± she said with a smile like we hadn¡¯t just been stalked by an ex-assassin.


    Gyn made a show of tossing the knife into the air and catching it behind her back with ease. ¡°Both are true,¡± she said with a shit-eating grin.


    The Reverend Mother shook her head.


    ¡°You¡¯re a day earlier than even I expected,¡± Gyn said with the same level of sass that flavored her bow to me. ¡°Am I to understand you¡¯re carrying a sealed diplomatic dispatch for my governess?¡±


    ¡°Yup!¡± Juno said with a larger smile.


    When she made no move to hand the document over to Gyn, the shriekwing took a breath and sighed.


    ¡°Well, can I have it?¡±


    ¡°Nope!¡± Juno said with an even more chipper voice.


    This earned her a scowl from the bodyguard.


    ¡°You understand that I¡¯m going to take it right to her, yes? Nobody is closer to the governess than me and Teena. We even share the governess¡¯ bedroom.¡±


    Gwendolyn unleashed a mighty guffaw at these words and put her hands on her hips. Gyn ignored her.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. You would take it to her. . . if I was going to give it to you. But I¡¯m not. Letter Carriers Guild policy is that sealed dispatches can only be surrendered to the administrator they¡¯re addressed to. We work hard to manage royal and municipal contracts, so the policy is extremely inflexible. I¡¯ll need to deliver it to Governess Lynn myself.¡±


    Through all of that, Juno didn¡¯t show a lick of aggression. She even rested an elbow on my shoulder again during the explanation.


    With a second sigh, Gyn ran a hand down her face, stretching the feathers around her beak as she glared at the messenger.


    ¡°Very well. If you insist on this ridiculous policy, you may deliver the letter to Governess Lynn tonight exactly one hour before tea time. If you¡¯re late or don¡¯t show up, I¡¯ll track you down myself and tear the letter from your bag.¡±


    The shriekwing turned to leave and extended her elbow.


    ¡°Reverend Mother, I have a spy to continue hunting for, and I do believe you were on your way to a meeting with a representative from the Temple of the Blood God. I¡¯d be happy to escort you.¡±


    Gwendolyn¡¯s eyes widened at this, and she let out a grumpy puff of air from her nose.


    ¡°I would sooner let a viper escort me back to her nest, Gyn. And stop going through my calendar!¡± she snapped.


    Gyn merely smiled and made a grand gesture of tucking her arm back at her side.


    ¡°Oh, very well. Go ahead and wound a tormented soul again. What¡¯s one more attack on my fragile conscience? Oh, and messenger? Bring the Bunny Goddess. If she¡¯s really the first divinity to physically grace our city in 150 years, my governess should probably meet her. Tootles!¡± she said before quite literally blurring and vanishing into thin air before our very eyes.


    My whiskers twitched all the more as my fur bristled.


    I do NOT like that trick, I thought.


    Gwendolyn took both of my hands, which startled me in a different way.


    ¡°Oh my, dear. Please don¡¯t give her any more of your thoughts than you already have. She enjoys ruffling feathers if you¡¯ll excuse my turn of phrase. I¡¯d love to invite you to tea and ask you about a thousand questions, but I really do have to get to that temple. Perhaps I¡¯ll find you tomorrow, and we can chat?¡±


    Gone was her grumpiness, and back was the friendly grandmother who looked like she was about to ask me to play cards or teach me crochet.


    ¡°Uh, maybe,¡± was all I could muster after the shocking few minutes that¡¯d just unwound before me. Assassins, Reverend Mothers, invitations to meet dignitaries, geez. That was a lot for a girl to process at once!


    ¡°I truly hope so. Please take care, dear,¡± Gwendolyn said before letting my hands go and leaving us in the hallway.


    We stood in silence for a few seconds to decompress.


    Then, Juno said, ¡°Well, we¡¯d better get going too.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I asked, turning my head and realizing her elbow was still on me.


    ¡°We gotta get you to the tailor. You need a brand new dress if you¡¯re going to have tea with the governess.¡±


    And off we went before butterflies could even start fluttering in my tummy at the prospect of dress shopping for the very first time.

 A Dress For The Bunny Girl

    Three or four blocks from the Governance Hall, Vonatelli¡¯s stood. The single-story brick building full of mirrors and creamy curtains rested itself against a fabric market that was three times as big. Apparently, they were run by half-sisters, one human, one hootwing.


    Soft instrumental music played from a floating cube over by the register nestled between two lanterns. Sigils painted on the side glowed blue with more staticky magic that left the fur on my arms and face bristling.


    ¡°How?¡± I asked, staring at the cube.


    It appeared to be made of cheap wood and had different sigils on all six sides. Only the top face glowed while the others remained dim.


    ¡°Oh, the Tune Cube? They¡¯re pretty new. A hootwing student at the Magicollege in Sunbalm designed it for the market a year ago. They sold like wildfire, and the student dropped out of school to make them full-time.¡±


    I stared transfixed as my ears focussed on a violin duet playing quietly from the Tune Cube. The sound quality was amazing, easily as good as any streaming service I might have used back home.


    Juno giggled and demonstrated for me, lowering the cube closer to the desk, which quieted the volume. Then she raised it back up to its original hovering height to make the song louder.


    ¡°Cool!¡±


    Encouraged by my easily amused bunny brain, Juno really impressed me by flipping the Tune Cube to a different face. The side that¡¯d previously glowed now faded as the new top face took its place, blue light filling every sigil on the surface.


    To my surprise, a different song now played, one with a flute section kicking the melody off with a series of trills.


    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I mumbled, eyes growing wider. ¡°This is blowing my mind.¡±


    ¡°Well, it ought to. I spent a month¡¯s wages on that little trinket. And it only plays six songs from the Sunbalm Chamber Orchestra,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said, stepping into the room.


    I turned to see a hootwing walk in, taller than me. Her right eyebrow was pierced with two silver rings that each contained a small emerald. Black and white feathers covered her body under a white shirt and a set of blue overalls. Hair shaved on one side and dyed red and black on the other gave her a unique look. And I didn¡¯t doubt for a minute this tailor would help find me a kickass dress.


    ¡°Juno, darling, it¡¯s good to see you again,¡± the hootwing said, taking my companion''s hands into her own feathered fingers. She kissed the messenger lightly on each cheek. And then, those golden eyes turned to me.


    Her beak clicked twice as the tailor looked me up and down.


    ¡°You¡¯ve brought me many things through your years as a messenger. So tell me, Juno, what delightful soul have you brought to Vonatelli¡¯s today?¡±


    Before I could answer, Juno wrapped an arm around my shoulder. I might have uttered a little ¡°eep,¡± but I wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°This right here is Tilda the Bunny Goddess. She¡¯s my newest traveling companion sent directly from Opha. Tilda, this is Bella Vonatelli, the greatest tailor in all of Kylson,¡± Juno said.


    Meekly, I cleared my throat and said, ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±


    Bella¡¯s beak clicked twice more as a smile overtook her face.


    ¡°A genuine Luck Bunny?! Here, in my shop? Why, Juno, you truly are a magnificent delivery woman. Tilda, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you,¡± she said, her soft hands taking mine in their grasp.


    I flinched and tried to pull my hands back. She let me. Her smile shrank to a knowing grin as I sputtered.


    ¡°Not. . . really a goddess. Just a lucky bunny. Anyway, your store is beautiful,¡± I said, looking around the shop again.


    A thin red carpet covered every inch of the floor, and smaller lanterns suspended from the ceiling cast a warm golden glow about the place.


    Combined with the soft music playing, it felt cozy and inviting.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even feel awkward that I¡¯m about to ask you for clothes,¡± I might have whispered in awe.


    Bella half bowed before me, one arm (or. . . wing?) crossed over her chest.


    ¡°My father, Toni Vonatelli, worked hard at making his clothing shop the most comfortable and casual tailoring business in all of Kylson. His store wasn¡¯t the cheapest nor the fanciest. But he took great pride in the fact that no customer left without a smile and returned without an air of bashfulness. I¡¯ve spent my life learning how to do the same. Rest assured, Tilda, if you¡¯ve come here for clothes, you have my soaring word that you¡¯ll leave here clothed and at ease.¡±


    I covered my mouth with a few fingers and felt bashfulness creep into me again. Nobody had ever treated me like this before.


    ¡°What exactly are you needing?¡± Bella asked, clasping her hands together and waiting with a patient stare.


    I didn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t answer. Not yet. My brain was still overheated from so much flustering and kindness dumped on me like a bucket of water.


    Juno took her arm off my shoulders (wait, no, put that back) and gestured to several pre-made outfits hanging on iron racks suspended from the ceiling by thin gold-painted chains.


    ¡°For starters, Tilda could use a dress for tea with the governess tonight. And after that, a couple of traveling outfits and a decent coat for the approaching cold season.¡±


    Bella nodded.


    ¡°And you¡¯ll want the clothes modified to fit a. . . rabbitfolk? It¡¯s strange to think that with all the beautiful people that fill Fevara, we haven¡¯t had any like you before, Tilda. Not unless they were directly sent by Opha,¡± Bella said, walking around me and examining my figure more closely.


    Nodding, Juno walked over to where she¡¯d set her backpack down on the floor.


    ¡°Can I leave my Luck Bunny in your trusted wings while I run and make some deliveries? I still need to drop off some magically preserved fruits and letters,¡± Juno said.


    I froze and tried my best to hide a look of horror at being abandoned. My shoulders tightened, and my heart rate kicked up a few notches. Suddenly, it wasn¡¯t as easy to see clearly at the edges of my vision.


    Bella took one of my hands and dismissed Juno without a second glance.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry. I¡¯ll make sure Tilda has a beautiful outfit in time for tea with Governess Lynn. You run along now and drop off those letters and packages. Mila has been waiting anxiously for that enchanted thread for the last few weeks, you know?¡±


    Juno winked at me, which sent my focus careening off the highway and into the median.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure your sister gets her package, then. Take good care of my Luck Bunny. I¡¯ve grown quite fond of her in a surprisingly short amount of time,¡± Juno said, waving at me.


    Returning her wave, I felt my massive ears droop behind me.


    ¡°Oh, do not worry, Tilda. This is a good thing. Now you can tell me all your thoughts without worry of Juno overhearing,¡± Bella said, ushering me over toward the clothes. ¡°Now, which dress do you want me to alter for your tea time with the governess tonight?¡±


    I tried to get my focus back on the road.


    ¡°Um. . . whatever you think is best,¡± I said, staring at the floor instead of the clothes. To her credit, where I expected Bella to grow agitated, she merely patted me on the back.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Take your time.¡±


    Without warning, I said, ¡°I¡¯ve honestly never had a dress before, Bella. I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯d want. I have no baseline to start from.¡±


    The hootwing nodded and walked over to the desk where the Tune Cube continued to play. I watched as she pulled out a metal kettle, not all that different from the one Juno used last night to make hot cocoa.


    Humming along with the music, Bella filled the kettle with water from a nearby faucet and sink in a corner kitchenette. Then she unfolded a thin black cloth, placed it on her desk, and set a flat stone the size of a vinyl record on top.


    Bella set her kettle on top of the stone, flicked the side with her finger three times, and stood back as red runes came alive and quickly heated the container with a small hiss. All the while, the cloth seemed to absorb any stray heat from the stone, keeping the desk unharmed.


    Just how many enchanted items does Bella have? I thought. She¡¯s got a floating Spotifee player and now a magic hot plate?


    Bubbles and steam rattled around inside the tin kettle while Bella pulled out some wooden tea strainers and filled them with leaves that smelled of mint.


    A few minutes later, we were seated at a small corner table next to one of Bella¡¯s windows.


    ¡°You know, there are times I have no idea what to design for a customer. It¡¯s rare, but it does happen. And when I get flustered, I like to sit here with a cup of tea and quietly watch the citizens of Kylson walk by my shop.


    Bella offered me a little tray of sugar. I picked up two cubes with a tiny set of silver tongs and dropped them into my steaming tea. It was only after looking at the tray again that I realized the sugar matched the cushioned stools we sat on.


    The tailor¡¯s talons scratched against the wooden legs of her stool as she slowly stirred her ambrosia-colored tea. The scent of warm mint filled our table.


    Steam drifted up from our cups and danced around our lips as we each took a light sip of the tea. Even with a small taste, the flavor of mint was potent. I drew its warmth into me again and again, braving slightly bigger sips with each drink. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°It¡¯s good, but does it meet the approval of a divine being?¡± Bella asked with that same small grin on her face.


    I stared down at the tablecloth beneath the sugar tray. Embroidered feathers spilled across the fabric that bore not a single stain.


    ¡°I¡¯m not really ¡ª that is, um. I wasn¡¯t always . . . you see, the thing is,¡± I tried and failed to say so many sentences.


    Bella took another sip of her tea and then leaned forward, placing her chin in the palm of her hand.


    ¡°You know, altering an outfit can take a little while.¡±


    Panic gripped me as I sputtered and looked over at the outfits again, worrying that I was wasting someone¡¯s time. Always, that was a cardinal sin where I came from. I didn¡¯t dare waste anyone¡¯s time, especially not with any of my nonsense.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯ll pick one right now, and we can ¡ª¡± I started before Bella interrupted me, placing a hand on mine.


    ¡°You misunderstand. Altering a dress or a pair of pants can take a little while, so I often listen to the stories of my customers. You¡¯d be surprised what people are willing to say to a stranger that they wouldn¡¯t to their friends or family. I¡¯ve heard some truly remarkable tales. I suspect, if you were given the same opportunity, you would have a few yarns of your own to spin, no?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what to say to that. So I drank more tea.


    Outside, a man walked by with his boyfriend, laughing about a play they¡¯d just seen. Each seemed in high spirits.


    ¡°There¡¯s something I haven¡¯t told Juno yet. I¡¯m not sure how she¡¯ll react,¡± I said, staring down at my drink.


    ¡°Well, you know, I¡¯m sworn to secrecy by the Tailor¡¯s Oath. Anything said behind the curtain stays back there,¡± Bella said.


    Considering her words, I finished my tea.


    Yeah. . . why not? I thought, feeling lulled by the music, the comfy stool, and the warm drink sloshing around inside of me. She¡¯s not going to tell anyone.


    We sat there in silence for a few more minutes, watching people walk by Vonatelli¡¯s. Two girls ran by kicking a ball between them. An older woman and her wife held hands and carried home vegetables from a nearby produce stand. Just outside the window, a nobleman wearing a fancy gray jacket and pants was being pushed in a wheelchair, chatting excitedly with the guy behind him. Across the way, a shellback rode a pony slowly through the crowd, saddlebags packed with empty bottles and other glassware.


    Steeling myself, I turned toward Bella and said, ¡°I think I¡¯m ready to pick a dress.¡± And I half-believed myself when I said that.


    She just nodded, emptied her tea, and walked with me back over to the clothing racks. I pulled aside shirts, blouses, tank tops, and more until I found a dress made of what looked like thin tiger fur.


    I raised an eyebrow at her as Bella laughed and said, ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. No poor creature died to make that. It¡¯s created with paints and dyes.¡±


    Feeling a silly grin at the edge of my lips, I deepened my voice and said, ¡°This is the skin of a killer, Bella.¡±


    She cocked her head to the side while I snickered.


    ¡°Just a. . . silly joke from the land I once called home.¡±


    Bella shrugged, and I continued to move aside different outfits until, at last, I came to a thin blue dress with long sleeves and a plunging neckline. Tiny white dots were painted on the sides to look like refracted light. It was the most beautiful thing I¡¯d ever wanted to wear.


    And I was so captured with the thought of wearing this dress and drinking tea in the presence of a governess and her ex-assassin bodyguards and Juno that I didn¡¯t even realize I was carrying the dress to where it¡¯d be altered until I was halfway across the room.


    All at once, I seemed to snap out of a trance and briefly paused.


    Bella stood beside me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen that look in more eyes than you might believe, Tilda. When you¡¯ve chosen a piece, and all the world seems right as you hold it. You know the future is set with you wearing the fabric in your very hands. Truly, it¡¯s one of my favorite parts of being a tailor.¡±


    This drew out another smile in me, and the hootwing led me over to a corner of the shop tucked away behind curtains and wood-paneled room dividers.


    Inside the curtains stood a raised platform surrounded by several full-length mirrors. Bella closed the curtains and asked, ¡°I need to take measurements if that¡¯s okay with you. Are you comfortable with me standing close and running a tape measure along parts of your body?¡±


    I nodded, and Bella got to work. She measured my legs, my waist, my height, and even my breasts. When she held the tape tight across my chest, I lightly cleared my throat. Her touch was professional, but that didn¡¯t mean it lacked intimacy. For the brief seconds that her fingers wrapped the tape measure around my bosom, I tried not to breathe. Then, I remembered Bella mentioning the Tailor¡¯s Oath, whatever that was.


    And, feeling secure in the tailor¡¯s privacy, I started to spit out words. I started with, ¡°I used to be a boy ¡ª er, a man. Back in the place where I came from.¡±


    Bella kept her eyes on the tape measure.


    ¡°Is that right?¡± she asked without much concern. Her tone was noncommittal where I instead expected at least light mockery.


    ¡°I. . . lived as a man for several years, a miserable man, I¡¯m learning, but a man all the same. Until one day, this boy was playing where he shouldn¡¯t have been. And I died trying to save him.¡±


    Bella nodded.


    ¡°And did you?¡±


    ¡°Did I what?¡± I asked, looking at her.


    ¡°Did you save him,¡± she clarified.


    Thinking back to the letter from Opha, I nodded. If the Third Goddess of Fate told me I¡¯d saved the boy, I believed her.


    ¡°So,¡± Bella said, having me change into the dress and getting to work on the place my fluffy poof of a tail would sit. ¡°What happened next?¡±


    I swallowed and thought back to my chat with Opha ¡ª or rather, my lack of a chat. It was all pretty one-sided. She wasn¡¯t even in the room. Where was she, anyway? Did the Third Goddess of Fate have a poker night with the other gods of Fate?


    ¡°Well, um, you may find it difficult to believe. But Opha tasked me with coming here and answering Juno¡¯s prayers.¡±


    Bella thought for a few minutes, quietly working on the dress, pulling on it now and again before letting parts of it fall loose. Before long, my tail was pushing through the fabric and sitting behind me.


    The tailor smirked and lightly flicked it with her middle finger.


    I let out a mighty squeak and flinched upward as she giggled.


    ¡°Sorry. Fabric got caught,¡± she lied, poorly. ¡°Right, and Opha turned you into a Bunny Goddess? Even though you were a man?¡±


    I slowly shook my head. That didn¡¯t quite line up with the truth. But I also couldn¡¯t explain uPhones and Ciri to Bella.


    ¡°Well, not quite. She let me. . . choose how I would be reborn into this world. I didn¡¯t exactly know what I wanted, so I asked to be soft and lucky. When I appeared at the shrine Juno prayed at, I found myself both of those things.¡±


    Bella had me spin a little as she got to work on the skirt. Outside, a wagon must have banged into the wall because I heard a loud THUD before someone swore, and a horse clopped away.


    ¡°Yeah, you must have really been the answer to her prayers,¡± Bella said.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    She looked up at me, which was a first since I¡¯d been reborn in this tiny body.


    ¡°I¡¯ve known Juno for a long time. She¡¯s been a messenger ever since she lost ¡ª¡± Bella¡¯s voice trailed off. ¡°Well, for a while. That poor woman¡¯s had her fair share of trouble. Wore a glass smile everywhere she went. Wouldn¡¯t let anyone travel with her. But today, when she came traipsing in here with you, I saw a light in her eyes that¡¯s not been lit in my presence before. So whatever you were before, whatever you are now, Luck Bunny, you¡¯re clearly the cause.¡±


    And where I expected that to be a world of pressure, I suddenly felt light in my feet and in my heart. Knowing that I¡¯d made such a difference to someone as kind as Juno just by showing up when her faith needed it most was like a little boost of dopamine.


    I should have been nervous about letting her down or failing to answer her prayers for more luck. Instead, I just felt warm in my chest at knowing my arrival meant so much to her.


    ¡°Do I understand correctly that you¡¯re afraid of telling Juno you used to be a boy?¡±


    That seemed like a slight oversimplification, but I nodded. I knew that she deserved the truth, but dammit, I also needed time to put the exact words together just right. Was this the pressure queer folks back on Earth felt when deciding to tell people who they are? Or were? Because it wasn¡¯t a fun feeling. It sort of swallowed pieces of the dopamine I¡¯d just been given.


    ¡°I¡¯ve only been a girl for a day, but it¡¯s also been ¡ª like ¡ª the BEST day. I didn¡¯t realize how bad I felt being a guy until I became a girl. And now, it¡¯s like every second I get to live as this Luck Bunny leaves me feeling giddy and wishing I¡¯d gotten to so much sooner.¡±


    Bella listened quietly as she adjusted the neckline of my dress.


    ¡°You see, it¡¯s like I spent my entire life on fire. And when Opha dropped me here, it was like the first place I landed was a bucket of water. Now the fire¡¯s gone, and I¡¯m a. . . a girl. A girl who isn¡¯t on fire, no matter what Alicia Keys says. You know?¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know who this Alicia woman is you¡¯re talking about, but I¡¯ve made dresses for plenty of girls who told me similar stories to yours before. Back in the other world you came from, how did you know you were a boy?¡±


    I thought for a moment, picturing everything from seventh-grade biology class to time spent showering in the locker room at Planet Fitwiz. I thought about my body and the time I used to spend standing in front of the mirror just sighing for hours on end.


    ¡°I guess. . . because the doctor said so?¡±


    ¡°A doctor told you that you were a boy?¡±


    I slowly waved my head back and forth thinking of how to describe it.


    ¡°Where I came from. . . when you¡¯re born the doctor says you¡¯re a boy or a girl, depending on, well, your bits.¡±


    Nearly dropping her needle and thread, Bella paused to stare at me like I¡¯d just said the dumbest fucking thing imaginable. Kid standing at the chalkboard having written ¡°2 + 2 = 7¡± level dumb.


    ¡°That¡¯s. . . not how you do it in Fevara?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Gods no! How¡¯s a baby supposed to know if it¡¯s a boy or a girl? How would it know if it¡¯s both or neither? That¡¯s arrogance on a level I¡¯ve never heard before. Things are a little different across Fevara, depending on the country, but generally, kids are raised free of such expectations. At some point, they just know. And they tell folks. Though, sometimes, they have to take a second or third try before they get it just right. And I¡¯ve made plenty of dresses for girls who started life as boys and then figured things out a little later. It¡¯s no big deal.¡±


    Outside the shop, a singing duo walked by, practicing an unflattering song about a previous governor who was much less popular than Lynn. I couldn¡¯t quite make out all the words, but these two did NOT like someone named. . . Randall? Or Rhubarb?


    The Fevara way of raising kids makes way more sense when I think about it. Plus, they probably don¡¯t start forest fires because of gender reveal parties, I thought.


    We continued chatting about Bella¡¯s history taking over the shop from her father. She talked a lot about her half-sister Mila, who joined the family when Toni remarried later in life. The girls got along rather well.


    It occurred to me that I hadn¡¯t looked in any of the mirrors once since changing into the dress. In fact, for the last several minutes as Bella finished up her alterations, I¡¯d kept my eyes shut.


    ¡°Maybe you never were a boy,¡± Bella suddenly blurted out, pulling the dress down a bit. ¡°I mean ¡ª seems to me if you were that miserable in your old life, you probably always were a girl. And arriving here in Fevara, you¡¯re still a girl. It¡¯s just more obvious now. Does that seem at all possible?¡±


    I bit my tongue. Again, the tailor had a way of oversimplifying things. None of what she¡¯d said could be that easy, right? Wanting something didn¡¯t make it so. At least, that¡¯s what I was always raised to believe. ¡°Spit in one hand, and want in the other. See which one fills up faster,¡± my grandfather always said.


    When I didn¡¯t answer, Bella asked an even simpler question.


    ¡°Tilda, do you want to be a girl?¡±


    I nodded without hesitation.


    ¡°Then that¡¯s your compass, so to speak. What you were. What you thought you were. What you became. Throw all that out the window for a little bit and just be a girl. Besides, a man wouldn¡¯t look nearly as cute in this dress, darling.¡±


    My heart caught in my throat. I took a deep breath, or as deep a breath as I was able. And I said the truth aloud.


    ¡°I¡¯m a girl.¡±


    ¡°And so you are. Open your eyes, Luck Bunny.¡±


    All I¡¯d wanted for as long as I could remember was to look in the mirror and be happy with what I saw. I wanted to be pretty, even if I didn¡¯t have the words to say so. I wanted to be soft in a world that only valued people who were tough and firm.


    I thought about who I¡¯d see in the mirror when I opened my eyes. The person staring back at me after all Bella¡¯s hard work.


    The words formed in my mind. I hope I¡¯m beautiful. I hope the girl I see is as soft as I¡¯ve always dreamt of. I hope. . .


    Suddenly, there was no more wondering. She looked back at me. The woman in the mirror stood with a gaze of disbelief and excitement. The shocked expression, the wide eyes, the frozen lips curled in wonder. The mirror woman never imagined that she could look as beautiful as this.


    The soft bunny girl slowly moved her hands up to her chin to make sure the image was really hers.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Bella asked. ¡°I think she looks pretty good.¡±


    And I couldn¡¯t say anything because I was too busy crying. But dammit. They were good tears. Tears that¡¯d waited so very long to fall.