,
The whispering, fast things have drawn back. I can still feel them in the shadows, but they have gone. This can’t be good. I’ve spent my life in a tiny wooden box a few feet wide but something deep inside, the thing that the rabbits who went before me have learned, tells me that when small predators run, they run from the shadow of a hunter far bigger than they are.
Still, something about this big grey place makes me feel calm. I am in some kind of multi-level hutch that the humans have made for themselves. Unlike me, they do not use one corner as a toilet and keep the rest clean, nor do they have a nice pink lady who comes to change the straw after seven sleeps. It does not smell good and it teems with things which want to eat me, but I am not frightened, just cautious. I feel the need to climb upwards. I will travel slowly, by night, and I’ll have to find a bit of lettuce or something soon, but upwards I will go.
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