The Ballad of Harvey, Hare of St. Cuthbert

The Ballad of Harvey, Hare of St. Cuthbert

The grey and white hare charged out of the bushes, bounding onto the snow-covered forest floor.

Moments after leaving the bush a large brown hunting dog poked its head out, gathered its bearings, and sprang the thicket with an excited bark. The dog has found prey for the master!

“Yeah, that’s me not too long ago. Huh. I now have a sense of time. No, I’m not the dog. I’m the hare. No, I’m not a rabbit. For one thing, my legs are longer, my head is more streamlined, and… just take my word for it. “

“RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!” was the only thing going through my mind. My instincts had taken over when the dog started digging at my home. 

Escaping through another exit, I fled but unfortunately, I was spotted by the dog. 

“RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN!”

Going through the brush gave me precious seconds to widen the gap with great leaps across the ground. Would it be enough to escape the jaws of the dog not far behind?

“RUN RUN RUN RUN...”

“STOP!”

The word surprised me!

Understanding the word surprised me even more!

I stopped, sliding a bit in the snow.

“LOOK!”

Again, obeying the word inside my head, I looked and saw a collection of twine and sticks.

“My mind came up with the term for it.

“Snare!”

I was surprised not only to use the word – but to understand what it meant!

That thought passed when I came up with an idea… that’s a new concept for me, too!

Leaping over the snare without triggering it, I waited for the dog.

I didn’t have to wait long.

My heart was beating harder. My instincts were telling me to run, but I knew I had to follow through with my plan.

The dog slowed down and stalked towards me. I could translate its growls as being something like “Muahahaha! I have you, now!” 

Okay, maybe that was embellishment on my part.

I acted like I was trying to back away, as if I was trapped, and still the dog came forward and tripped the snare.

The dog’s eyes widened in surprise as it was hoisted up into the tree with a confused yelp.

I allowed myself a smile of satisfaction and took off on a run again.

The hunter won’t be too far behind.

“What happened to me?” I asked myself.

Myself answered, “Explanations later. Running now. Head this way!”

“That’s the human burrows! That’s like leaping out the frying pan and into the fire!”

Huh. I can speak in idioms. Huh! I know what an idiom is!

“Safety is waiting for you there!”

I wish I could say I had a choice in the matter. But truth be told, I had an overwhelming urge to head that way.

I pushed on, leaping through brush and over fallen logs, passing by what may have been a safe haven.

 I could hear the dog give another yelp as he was freed from the snare.

I also heard what the hunter was saying!

“Language!”

Apparently, I understand metaphors as well.

Running out of the forest into the clearing I spotted safety.

I just needed to get to it!

Pushing my muscles harder for the sprint in the open.

Behind me I heard the hunter crash through the trees – and the twang of a crossbow firing.

I slid to a stop, exhausted, sore, and awaiting the plunge of a crossbow bolt ending my life and this strange awareness I gained. 

My ears picked up the bolt whistling through the air and then…

Clang!

I looked up and saw a human, wearing a simple robe and carrying a mace.

His shield was planted on the ground behind me – where it intercepted the bolt.

“That’d be me supper, friend. How ‘bout’s you turn him over to me?” The hunter stepping forward, cocking his crossbow. His dog growling beside him.

The man standing above me adjusted his grip on the mace, and planted his feet, expecting an attack.

“This hare is under my protection and that of St. Cuthbert.” He released the upright shield stuck in the ground and pulled out a coin. “This is for you, so that all may gain in this encounter.”  Tossing the coin towards the hunter, the glint of gold shone off it.

The hunter picked up the coin, examining it. “It’s a lot of money for a stringy hare. You sure it’s worth it to you?”

“It is.”

“Well, then, I’ll be going. If I catch that rabbit out and about, I’ll…”

“Don’t.” That single word put a glaze of fear over the hunter’s eyes.

“I mean to say, I’ll return him to you immediately.”

“If that is the case, you will be rewarded.”

Genuflecting awkwardly, the hunter moved away, calling for his dog to heel. The dog, confused, growled under his breath as he followed.

The man watched the hunter go then picked up the shield and hooked the mace onto his belt. Reaching down, he picked me up, still panting from the evening’s excursion. He looked down and smiled. “Hello, my friend. I am Irving. I am the one who called you to me.”

“Irving?” I repeated. Then I stopped. He wasn’t speaking out loud, but in my mind. The funny thing was, it wasn’t his mind-voice that I heard earlier.

“You have become my familiar, and I thank St. Cuthbert for this boon. You are to be my companion, helping me, and I will protect you with my life.”

“It certainly beats foraging in the winter,” I said.

He chuckled out loud. “Indeed. Let’s go inside, I’ll put on some proper clothes, and we will go share a meal.”

Turning, he went back into his quarters in the church and changed his clothes. 

Picking me up again, we went to a building that was filled with light and music and lots of humans. The old fear of humans started to rise as did the urge to run.

“Fear not, friend. And well-met.”

This wasn’t Irving’s mind-voice. Nor was it the voice I heard earlier.

I heard a chuckle, and the mind-voice from earlier responded. “That was me, friend.”

“Oh great! I’m a companion to someone with split personalities. I wonder if the hunter has gotten far?”

I could hear multiple mind-voices chuckling.

Then Irving’s mind-voice spoke. “Those aren’t from me. Those are spirits attached to the mace I carry. They are instructors, mentors, and companions. They are there to serve St. Cuthbert.”

We entered what I later learned was the Tavern of the Welcome Wench. 

Taking a seat Irving placed me on the table. A woman, whose shirt seemed to be barely hanging on, came up.

“Will ye be wanting that rabbit fried or fricasseed?” she asked.

“Neither.” Irving pulled out a couple coins, these being silver and placed them on the table before him.” My friend here needs a bowl of water and vegetables, fresher the better.  I’ll take whatever is in the stew this evening and… a glass of milk?”

“Bloody wizards and their familiars. Best be cleaning up after it yer own self!” she grumbled under her breath. Scooping up the coins she went back into the throng.

Starting to relax, I saw some movement in my peripheral vision. A young human was reaching for the pouch where Irving kept his coins. 

“Irving!” I warned.

“Got him.” Irving turned and grabbed the arm of the youth, who couldn’t have been much younger than Irving. Pulling the child close, “if you are in need, go to the Church of St. Cuthbert for aid. You needn’t steal from others.”

The child yanked the arm out of Irving’s hand and ran into the crowd, disappearing.

“I think that was actually a halfling…” mused Irving. “I suppose we should come up with a name. I doubt you were given one by your parents.”

“Oh! I know!” exclaimed one of mind-voices. “How about… ‘Harvey’?”

“Even better! How about ‘Bu…” The mind-voice was cut off by the others shouting, “NO!”.

What do I know about names? “’Harvey’ sounds fine with me,” I replied.

“Irving and Harvey,” said Irving out loud. “I can’t wait to hear the songs sung of our exploits!”