Hunting Wabbits...BIG Wabbits

[Cptdragon9]

Megan flopped down on the Serta Mattress Brimstone had the forsight of getting her when she first opened up Mesomorph Park. Perhaps he knew that she was in a motherly way. Maybe he knew that she would spend most of her days and much of her nights pouring over books, paying bills, and doing all the things it took to keep the ranch operational. Actually they were in the green. She’d booked several safaris for the next six full moons and even had one of the local school interested in holding a class or two on the premises, studying dangerous species. Of course those lovely little floppy- eared rabbits didn’t look very ferocious now; in fact the little tykes would probably just love them to death, and in fact the bunnies themselves seemed to adore all the attention and carrots they could get. It was only those few days under the glare of a full moon that the rabbits showed their real nature, transforming into monstrous ten foot tall meat- eating were-rabbits.

It had taken her a few months, but they finally managed to reinforce all the retaining walls. Yes Drac’s fancy schmancy spells Did hold them off, but inevitably they’d found their way into the barn and trashed it. Twice. Even got into the ranch house and just about devoured everything on the first floor. There was no way to round up all the bunnies before the main event, so she’d had to go through several sources before finding a metal material to reinforce the paddock and homestead that didn’t cost her an arm and a leg.

And that had worked. The bunnies stayed out on the range and Megan’s homestead remained undevoured and in one piece. And now that she was on the mend, really on the mend and not just between relapses, she could settle down and focus on her newest project.

Or she would be focusing if it weren’t for all the yammerin’ going on around her.

It wasn’t normal speech. Of course that was saying quite a mouthful since her native tongue wasn’t wholly spoken either. Their proper mode of communication involved not only words, but gestures, inflection, and doubled meanings that matched events in their lives to connotations that reflected on new situations. But what Megan was hearing was mostly in her head. No, she wasn’t hearing voices, but the communication going on between her blade and the shard of green rock she’d found. Much of it was more impression than clear, concise words; but it was clear that the sentient sword was speaking with the sentient rock. She didn’t mind them gabbing in her head actually. Truth be told she’d been worried about Destroyer, but since she’d brought that little bit of Jonah home with her, it seemed the dark blade was not as broody. And as they each recanted stories, sometimes the same ones over and over again like a forgetful mynah bird; it seemed that the shard was becoming more substantive, even addressing her on occasion, asking her what she was doing and why, usually in the most embarrassing of times.

Because of this odd behavior, she left the weapon home with the stone. She surely didn’t need glances her way, wondering where all that yakking was coming from or why she was talking to thin air; and really not wanting to explain it because she didn’t fully understand it. The blade and the rock came from two different worlds, yet seemed to speak the same language; or the languages were beginning to merge, and with her head between them it seemed that speech pattern was also seeping into her head. It was comforting, enough so that she’d lie in the bed and let them drone her to sleep.

They seemed to also be on board with her latest scheme. Destroyer wanted a piece of action at any point, either facing off with another swordsman in an arena setting; or joining a small squad to navigate through an obstacle course loaded with monsters. Megan didn’t have the heart to tell him that she probably wouldn’t be participating in anything so strenuous. Bad enough he wanted to match wits with Grandma Aurora. There was a sticky wicket (Destroyer’s words). She might have been bent enough to throw down with the old woman and test her mettle, but the more she hung out with the elder version of her mother, the more she was beginning to like the old broad, moreso than her actual mum. Any fight between them at this time would more likely be a joust, or a scrum; a little more than a skirmish, but not enough to try to hack each other’s head off.

Well, they’d have to figure it out later. Company was coming soon and Megan had to go over the details with the staff for the upcoming safari run tomorrow night. Especially the safety protocols. She struggled to sit back up again, that baby bump becoming more and more of a nuisance. Clearly she was in it for the long haul again as she was pushing the nine month mark with little showing for it. It was good though. The longer the kid was in the oven, the more chance that he’d be at least bright enough to hold his own. She finally got to her feet, then winced as both sword and stone cried out, demanding to be carried along. “Fine,” she droned on, picking up Destroyer and laying the bare blade against her spine where it seemed to magically adhere without benefit of scabbard. Jonah J was easier to just slip into her pocket.

Thus fortified, she headed out to the front of the ranch house to await her guests arrival.