A Loss Greater For Those Against Us

Analogy I wrote for my honors english class last year. Figured it was good enough to start things out.

Among the thicket of a lichen forest grows further the soft and loose, dank soil one finds gentle prints of life sunk into. Untrodden by artificial weight we lay our scene, cleansed from the stench of higher thought brings a simple tale. 

Peacefully runs the air with its collections of flying insects, dandelion seeds drifting, plump vines coursing with sugar from the lovely sunlight. These beams shine softly through leaves, and there they go to rest among green blades of dew-kissed grass. Observing from a chilled shadow, an animal of teeth gleaming for meat and a silky sheen of fur dusted with earth sits among this serene dance. Among the furless five-fingered, he is portrayed as either demonic and violent, or angelic and graceful. 

The wolf does not know this. He watches the speckles of moss fall. The wolves do not see good or evil. They see survival or death.

However, they do see something akin to the relationships between humans. The wolves do see weakness. The wolf does know this. 

Fluffy ears perk as a small being limps into the sunbeam; The wolf spots a crippled rabbit. 

“They have denied my food today, yet again. Have you found much worthwhile for a canine such as I?” The wolf mumbles from his shroud.

“Ay, nay, my own have begun safeguarding the berry patches.” The rabbit grumbles. She plops her tail on the mat of glowing grass and cleans the stump of a back limb with a small pink tongue. The wolf shudders and shakes his fur, disturbing the settled earthen vapor.

“Why do you refuse yourself so of this lovely sun, Elyzian?” The doe skips around clumsily before settling on the grass to eat.

“Do I deserve such pleasure, my friend, if kicked from my pack for a trait uncontrollable?” Elyzian laments.

The bunny frowns. 

“Who are they to decide what you deserve?”

“Ay, alas they’re right, my friend! What use is a wolf who cannot give anything to their family?”

The rabbit pauses, eyes darting around under tired lids.

“I continue failing to see your uselessness,” she finally replies.

Elyzian grunts and scratches his right ear with a back leg.

“Too gentle, my friend,” he vaguely answers.

“You? Perhaps. But how is that malevolent?”
The wolf shoots his companion with a look of annoyance.

“I cannot hunt. Does that enlighten you enough?”

“Nay. Educate me.”

The wolf exhales audibly. 

“Friend, I feel as though I am a herbivore within the body of a meat eater. At least, among my pack members. Indeed, the wolf is built to ingest both flesh and fruit, nevertheless, my predicament is not completely incapacitating, yet the wolf does not eat these types in balance,”

He sniffs the air where the sunlight falls and bares his teeth, letting them gleam in speckles of light. “Obviously.”

The wolf continues his monologue. 

“It is strange, friend. Some blame it on my parent’s food choices, but nobody knows surely where this peculiarity of mine stems from. I simply cannot hear my pack properly amid the hunt, and cannot decide where to go, or what to do, unlike the rest. As if it was an unspoken code, a language of sorts, that everyone else has learned except for my unfortunate self.”

The rabbit shudders from a gust of cold wind.

“I do recall, they drove you out after your fifth prey failure?”

Elyzian nods and shuffles his paws around, wincing from painful memory that pricks like a rose’s thorn.

“Too gentle, no, I wouldn’t say that is the cause. They do not understand you, I feel,” the rabbit lets her eyes sparkle as she gazes into the darkness—moisture on her face and body glints off of a warm glow.

The wolf peers at her, curious. “And you do?” 
“Maybe I don’t recognise why you neither hunt alone, but as a pack, I think it is silly that they drive you away for such a thing.”

“They have good reason. I am a nuisance. I am weak.”

“Difference is not weakness, dear Elyzian. Or, perhaps, not your version of such a quirk.”

The wolf tilts his head. The rabbit was insinuating something.

“You are different as well. Why do you imply you are weak, but I am not?” Elyzian implores, peeking further from the leafy shadow.

“Ay, Elyzian, look at my leg! What’s a rabbit who cannot run?”

“You’ve survived to adulthood, friend. Surely that means something.”

“It means that I was not ready to give my family the satisfaction of being right. They saw my lost limb soon after birth and cast me out for the foxes! Without even a name to die for!” The rabbit strains, struggling to sit upright. 

The tension of anger quickly melts. She exhales with tired eyes and limps into the shadow next to the wolf. 

“Not even a name?” he whispers. 

“What use is feeding a rabbit who will be swallowed by a hawk within a month?”

“You fed yourself.”
“Barely, Elyzian. All from sneaking into their territory for berries. Now that they guard them, what am I to do?” The rabbit goes quiet.

Elyzian shifts and lays down, pushing soft earth away from his body and resting a fluffy muzzle on his forelegs. 

The rabbit pauses. The wolf finds his jaws pried open and a squishy, furry ball crawls inside. He cries out in surprise.

“Snag your fangs on my heart, release me, Elyzian. There is nothing left for me with this sufferful life,” the rabbit sobs betwixt marble teeth. But gently the wolf prods the fur out of his sharp jaws, leaving it shuddering on the cold soil, darkened by looming trees, reminiscent of a deep depression.

“Friend, you cannot force upon me the everlasting burdens of ending your life! Sit back in the sunbeam and relish in your existence, against the odds of nature! It is your family’s loss, kicking you out!” The wolf growls, menacingly and upset, “your lack of a name will be no more. How suits Flicker? Even without all limbs you still flourish!”

Flicker takes a few shaky breaths and nods meekly, righting herself again. Elyzian bites her by the scruff, gently to not draw blood, and sets her in the sunlight again. He sits, watching his tail drag water droplets around the green. 

“We both struggle, Flicker, and we both are outcast for things we cannot control. Perhaps it could be for the better?”
“I don’t see how, Elyzian. But I appreciate your optimism.”
“You certainly do have use, by the way. Those pest traps you’ve developed?”

Flicker flops down comfortably at the wolf’s paws and stretches. “Point being?”

“Maybe, if you show your estranged family, they will employ them to protect their berry patches.”
“I doubt they’d listen to me long enough, the insect I am to them.”

“It’s worth a shot to feel safe and nourished in the burrows you were born in, no?”

Flicker shuffles around, licking her stump free of dirt again, and drags herself around to a flowering dandelion, at the edge of the sunny grass patch.

“If you believe that to be such a good idea, why not go back to your pack and show them your unprecedented ability to scout out edible plants?” she asks, sniffing the delicate petals of the bloom before her. “Truly pulchritudinous, for a predator such as yourself,” she peeps.

Elyzian dips his head in thought. “They can find food on their own, certainly of much higher quality for themselves than the sustenance I can track. You have a better chance of being welcomed back than I do, dear friend. I recommend you take the opportunity.” 

Flicker turns, munching on the dandelion, a severed stem replacing its original growth. 

“If all else fails, we can have each other, as we have for seasons before,” the wolf finishes, spreading his paws and laying himself down in the warm humidity. The rabbit crawls herself back over and nuzzles next to him. 

“Then we shall both try. It’s better than giving up, giving up and letting them win,” she mutters, drifting off into peaceful sleep. “It will be… a loss greater for those against us.”

Our wolf and rabbit did return to their homes, as they had promised each other. Unfortunately, however, Elyzian was still not permitted to enter the wolves’ territory, even with his pleas of value. Meanwhile, Flicker demonstrated the use of her pest traps and set some up around the berry patches, assuming that the kindness her family was suddenly showing her was genuine. 

But after a successful few days, Flicker awoke in the paralyzing darkness of the forest again, not a firefly to guide her immobilizing limp, alone with her afraid and shuddering body. Her food had been laced and she’d fallen asleep, then left out to the predators, just as it was after her birth. Her family refused to admit she had built the contraptions. The leader was given credit for it, and Flicker lacked the strength and stealth to take them down herself. 

When Elyzian was found again, he was nursing himself with wheezing lungs in a dank old cave. His feeble attempts at rejoining had cost him a vicious fight with some pack members. Flicker sacrificed her health to bring him enough food to live.

Then came the season of snowflakes and ice, and too came retribution. The wolf’s family had lived on deer for years, yet this year were hunted by the humans and driven out by the extreme snow. The berries that the rabbits cultivated were not watched and the traps began failing without Flicker’s guidance to repair. Soon pests stole all the good fruit and frost killed the rest.

The sun broke through a blanket of icy clouds one morning, lighting a patch of blooms. Elyzian and Flicker lay asleep, surrounded by violet petals, stomachs full and minds at peace.

The wolf pack that had driven Elyzian out had perished with the loss of their only reliable food source. Our wolf survived with his knowledge of edible plants that grew plentiful under the snowpack. It was his family’s loss now, not his own.

The rabbit warren of Flicker’s origin had taken her traps for granted, and the strength of their berries even more so. Only a few bunnies remained of the once bountiful nest. Flicker had lived by growing her own, albeit pitiful bushes, but keeping them safe with good placement of growth under the sun let her stomach stop rattling. It was her family’s loss now, not her own. 

Do not drive out those who are gifted with minds or limbs unique. They hold secrets that may save those who are willing to accept differences. Shutting them away only adds risk, and eventually, it may not be you who emerges from winter.

End