This world is a beautiful place to a farmer. Beautiful, frustrating, and filled with potential. The earth we walk upon is a catalyst for life that we cannot yet see, the water that flows in streams beside us bears health in its rushing wake, the very sun that glows upon our skin shines with the gift of strength. The animals that graze or prowl each contribute to the growth of natural life in their own ways, and the wind that blows across the land carries seeds from who can say to be set down who knows where. This world is a beautiful place to a farmer.

In a northern country, where the sun shone warm most of the year and winter snows lasted only three months before they were gone again, lay a valley. Surrounded by a mountain range on one side, an enormous forest beside it and a wide rushing river spanning its other side, it was a peaceful place. And most of it was cultivated. Almost six acres of farmland stretched out behind a house big enough to hold a small family. In the fields, lit by the beams of a setting sun and patiently leading a tired horse home, was a man. His shoulder-length blond hair, scruffy beard and deep blue eyes attested to the Northern blood in his veins, and the hands that gently tugged the blue roan forward were large and strong. "Come on, mate," he murmured, as weary as the animal he led, "we're almost home."

The horse nickered and pushed its nose into his hair, stepping forward a little more briskly. The man laughed, "Noooo! You'll get my hair all wet, stop that!" Playfully he pushed the horse's face away, but the roan merely butted him again. They continued to play as they ambled home, the man looking forward to whatever supper his wife had cooked, the horse to hay and a sweet-smelling stall to sleep in.

They reached the stable at last, where the farmer removed the harness and bridle from the weary animal and hung them up each on their assigned hooks. He brushed the horse down and ensured its feed box was filled. "You've got water?" He muttered. "Yeah, you do." He would rake out the hay tomorrow when he had...actual energy. For now, he took down one of the blankets from a nearby shelf and spread it over the horse's blue-grey back, for springtime nights could be cold in this place. "Now remember it's me and don't kick, yeah?" He said, patting the animal's side and pulling over a stool to check its hooves.

The sun had set by the time the man finally emerged from the stable, with strands of hay and the smell of horse and human sweat clinging to his rough clothes. He stood for a moment in the dooryard, looking up at the sky, where millions of stars blazed. The Milky Way especially dominated the vast expanse overhead, as brilliant as though a gleaming slash had been cut across the heavens. A silver disc shone among that swathe of lights: the moon, having drunk what light the sun could spare during the day, now streamed it all down upon the earth. The farmer drew in a breath, feeling as much of the quiet this night brought him as he could.

The front door to his home opened softly, and his wife looked out. "Phil?" She saw him, then, where he stood a few paces away, face turned to the sky. "You need a minute?"

"Come out here, Kristin." He said. "Come and feel the wind with me."

His wife smiled and stepped out, shutting the door behind her. Once she reached her husband, she rested her hand on his shoulder and followed his gaze up to the stars.

The nighttime breeze, blowing down from the snowy mountain-tops, was cool and refreshed Phil's mind. He would probably go flying again tomorrow, if he could get his harness to fit him better. If only Kristin would try it...but she was still shy of heights and loved the feel of her feet on solid ground. At least she encouraged him to go up there again, or he'd never leave her alone on the earth below.

Phil bent his head and kissed his wife's beautiful black hair, which still carried the scent of bread and honey from her recent baking. "I like the night." He murmured. "It reminds me of you."

"Aw, Phil!" Kristen nestled her head against his shoulder. "That's sweet." She wrapped her arms around him and they stood there for a minute in a quiet embrace, perfectly content right where they were.

It was only when a bird called loudly from the forest nearby that Kristen chuckled. "We should eat. Food's going to get cold."

"Fine." Phil kissed her forehead as she looked up at him. "Let's go eat." He smiled as Kristin giggled again, and they went inside.

The stars shone all night, competing with the ever-glowing light of the moon. But they all soon dimmed as the first crack of dawn peeked over the eastern horizon. The sun, taking its place in the heavens, reigned supreme once more.

Phil had no cows, so he could afford to be up slightly after the sun. He took a few minutes to step outside and enjoy the spring wind before it was actually time for him to get started with the ploughing again. He had a long way to go before it would be all done and he would be able to start planting. At least Kristin's flower garden was coming along well. He decided to go check in on it and see what was growing this time. He got dressed for the day and grabbed a ribbon from the bedside table to tie his hair back.

Just a day like any other.

Kristin was just waking up as he left the room, though he tried to close the door quietly. He didn't want to wake her up too fast; she tended to be a little woozy in the mornings if she couldn't linger in bed a while. Phil opened the back door and walked out into the flower garden.

Witch hazel, snowdrops, winter heath, jasmine, buttercups and irises littered the little enclosed space he'd built for his wife when they'd first moved here. An apple tree, planted around the same time, grew in the middle of the yard, its blossoms only just starting to grow in. Ordinarily, Phil would have lingered among the flowers a while, feeling their silken petals and the rough bark of the tree, finding peace in the nodding of each blooming plant. But today, his eyes were drawn to a large hole that had apparently been dug mere feet away from the apple tree.

Had Kristin been planning something new? But she would have said something. And there was no plant that Phil knew of that required such a wide hole...he approached it carefully, his brain whirring to figure out what this was supposed to be. It was a deep hole, dark and somewhat damp from this morning's dew. Phil knelt down, ready to move if this proved the new den of some creature.

He heard a scrambling in the hole. Something squeaked in alarm and he heard the sound of digging. Puzzled, Phil bent closer. It sounded like whatever was in there was trying to dig away from him. So...probably not a predator. "What...?"

A small puff of dirt and leaves drifted up from the opposite end of the garden, and two long, rosy pink rabbit ears poked up from among the flowers. "A rabbit?" But it was far bigger than any rabbit he'd ever seen. Phil sat down on the grass, bemused. "I'm not going to hurt you." He said aloud, though it was more of an automatic response than much else. He wasn't sure how else to react.

The ears trembled a bit. Then rose as whatever this was climbed a little further out of its hole. A shock of wavy, red-pink hair and two dark eyes were all he could see now, but it was clear this was no rabbit. Phil tilted his head to the side, both in curiosity and in an attempt to make himself look less threatening. "I'm not going to hurt you." He repeated softly.

The creature gazed at him for a few moments longer. Then he heard a tremulous voice ask, "Please don't hit me."

The farmer frowned. "Why...no, I won't hit you, why would I hit you?"

"So you can get feet."

Phil blinked. "...feet? What...why would I want feet?"

"To jump." The little voice replied. It sounded  like a very young child, probably a boy. Phil was just as confused as he'd been before.

"I can jump just fine, I don't need...feet...to help with that any." He reassured the child.

"But what if you do?" The tone of the voice lowered doubtfully.

"Then I'll get them somewhere else. I won't hit you, alright?" Phil had no idea how well this was going to work, but there was a rabbit child in his wife's flower yard and he wanted to make sure that child knew he was going to be okay.

The boy hesitated. He climbed a little further out of his hole, still watching Phil closely. He was definitely mostly rabbit, with the small, twitchy nose, the deep-colored pink fur coating most of his body, and the little clawed hands. Phil could only imagine the tail. "Promise?" Asked the child.

"I promise," Phil held up his hands, "neither I or my wife will hit you." He hoped Kristin was still in bed at this moment; she could be very excitable around tiny animal things.

After another hesitation, the boy climbed all the way out. He did indeed have not only bunny legs and feet, but a cotton-white tail that was wagging just a little. Phil could only just see his whiskers from here, the way they twitched as he slowly walked past the flowers. He was about four feet tall and rather thin, as though he had not eaten well for some time. There was still some fear in his expression, in the way that he paused every third step to watch Phil as he came towards him. "You...you have to swear it."

The boy's voice, monotone as it was, sounded perfectly serious. Phil could only imagine why he asked such a thing. "Sure, mate. But what do you want me to swear on? I gave you my word already."

The boy responded readily, "It's gotta be a blood oath. You have to cut your hand."

Phil looked down at his hands to prevent the child from seeing the merriment that sparkled in his eyes. He'd never met someone like this boy, who took himself so seriously. Phil reminded himself that it was likely the boy had been through a lot, perhaps been betrayed. He had a right to ask this, didn't he?

"Alright," Phil agreed, "but I don't have a knife on me. I'll have to go and get one from the kitchen, okay?"

The boy's brow furrowed and he stared at Phil a little longer. "No," he said after a moment, "it's okay, you don't have to." His mouth twisted in discomfort as he gave a little shrug. "I just wanted to see if you would."

Phil inwardly sighed in relief. Small or not, cuts would interfere with farming work, where he mostly used his hands. He turned his attention back to the rabbit child. "What's your name?"

The boy started playing with his fingers, staring at the ground. His long, fuzzy ears flopped on his back as he shook his head. "You'll laugh."

Phil restrained his urge to reach out and pet the top of the boy's head. "I won't. Promise. Here," he added, "I'll go first, okay?" The child nodded. "My name's Philza. Philza Minecraft," the farmer said softly, placing his hand on his own chest.

The boy swayed from side to side and shuffled his large rabbit feet. "Okay." He muttered, still looking at the ground. "Bunnyblade."

Oddly enough, Philza wasn't tempted to laugh at all. He gazed at the small, pink-furred boy in front of him, who was still twisting his fingers around each other and looking everywhere but at him, and he felt suddenly very sad. This child had no one to depend on. He was scared, he was all by himself and he'd obviously been let down before. Phil gave the boy a little smile. "Hi, Bunnyblade."

The rabbit child looked at him from under his eyebrows. "Hi."

"Are you hungry?" Philza asked. He wanted to take care of this child. He wanted to give him something stable. Something he could depend on.

Bunnyblade nodded. "Yeah." He opened his mouth to add something more, but hesitated. Phil waited for him to continue in his own. The boy thought for a while and then asked, "D'you have any carrots?"

Phil made no attempt to hide the grin that crept over his lips now. So that's where his carrot stash had been disappearing to. "Yes," he replied, "but I think you already know that."

Bunnyblade grimaced. "Yeah..." He reached up and scratched an ear. "Are you mad?"

Philza laughed quietly. "No, mate, I'm not. I think you should've asked first or something, but I'm not mad. Shall I fetch some to you, or do you want to come inside? My wife should be awake by now and cooking some breakfast."

The boy eyed the house. "I dunno."

"Should I call her out here? So you can see her for yourself?" Phil glanced towards the door.

Bunnyblade stiffened and drew back a step. He looked from Philza to the house, then back at Phil. His hands twisted around each other faster.

Phil's hand was reaching out before he even registered its movement. He felt his fingers brush the fur on the child's wrists as he held them, stilling their somewhat frantic movement. "I'm sorry. It's...I shouldn't have pushed, I'm sorry."

The boy just stared at Phil's hand on his own frail wrists. His nose twitched a bit. One whisker flicked. But his trembling was gradually decreasing. He seemed to be calming. Philza kept his hand where it was,hoping that the continued contact would help Bunnyblade focus, would reassure him somehow.

Bunnyblade's ears flapped a little as the morning breeze picked up. The scents of the flowers washed over the two of them like a soft wave running over sand. Philza could see the boughs of the apple tree sway up and down as their ends caught the breaths of wind. He watched as the small child slowly, very slowly, began to inch towards him.

When the boy stood within a mere two feet away from him, he tentatively reached out, laying his tiny, furry hand on Phil's shoulder. He just stood there for a few seconds, his gaze trained on the ground, his free hand clenching and unclenching by his side. Then he suddenly turned and walked away again. Towards the back door of Phil's house. He stopped next to it, and though he did not look at Phil as he waited, the farmer could tell that Bunnyblade had decided to trust him.

Philza got up and approached the door, keeping his movements slow and non-threatening. No need to scare the child any further than he'd already been. He opened the door and let the rabbit boy go in first, closing the door behind him. They would take care of the massive hole in the back garden later. For now...

Kristin was indeed in the kitchen, peeling apples as ingredients for this morning's breakfast. "Hey, Phil. Sleep well?" She asked, without looking up.

"I did, love." He answered. "We have a guest."

Kristin blinked and turned her head to see the small child, who was hiding a little behind her husband. Bunnyblade's nose twitched again. "Oh..." Kristin out the apple down. "Oh, hi. I...I'm Kristin. What's your name?" Philza breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her voice. She did not talk down to Bunnyblade, as so many other adults would do to so many other children. She was genuinely interested to understand who it was that Phil had brought home.

The rabbit boy peeked out from behind Philza's back. "Hi. I'm B...Bunnyblade." He gulped hastily and looked down. "Ph...Phil said you're...you're Kristin?"

"Yeah, that's me." Kristin laughed. "I'm guessing you're hungry, Bunnyblade. Do you want an apple?"

The boy shifted his feet. "C-can I ha...can I have a carrot?" He began to twist his hands around each other again.

"I'll go get 'em." Phil offered. "Just give me a moment, yeah?" He waited to see Bunnyblade's uncertain nod before stepping out the door and heading towards the storage shed, where much of his food stock was kept. A day like any other? He laughed as he remembered his thought from this morning.

Today was going to be completely unique.