Chapter 1 - Half Shift
When mother handed Onya the market baskets and told her to take some jars of summer strawberry jam to the town center to sell to the baker, she eagerly accepted the task. Her younger siblings, three sets of twin kits, had been bickering all morning. No matter what task Onya gave them to keep them out of trouble, the little kits kept fighting and making messes every time she tried to leave the room and fold the mountain of laundry that had accumulated in the last three days.
She put on her favorite sandals, the only ones that fit her rabbit sized feet, and grabbed her wooly sweater to cover the thinness of her old worn-out day dress.
They were a poor, hardworking family, with too many mouths to feed. Everyone but Onya was able to hold a full fur shift. No one had time to think about decent clothing but her parents or her properly married siblings. They had to have something to wear when they left the house in their human shapes so that they could deal with other human shapes.
Onya’s clothing was not a needs-must, her father decided. After all, she wasn’t supposed to be showing herself off outside in town, anyway.
She’d also outgrown her last bra years ago and her last pair had also recently fallen to pieces. Maybe if the baker gave them a decent price this time for the summer’s best strawberry jam, they could afford something new. Mother might let Onya pick a new dress or a pair of fashionable jeans from the market for herself. Fall was coming to their valley, and the snow soon after. Her sweater wasn’t going to be enough. All her old winter clothes were now rags to use for the babies.
“My beautiful girl,” her mother said to her at the door. “Why don’t you unbraid your hair and let it hang down your back? It’ll be nice to be outside and get some fresh air. Won’t it?”
Onya put the baskets down and followed her mother’s instructions. She only braided it to keep the twins from yanking on it all day long. Her mother bent over the basket on the floor. Was she counting the jars?
“I only took what you said, Mother.”
“Just making sure.” Mother told her.
Everyone treated her as if she was stupid and helpless. She tried not to be offended. It was true sometimes she didn’t pay attention to things and put the wrong socks in a drawer or miscounted the spoons when setting the table.
When Only looked down to count the jars too, she noticed that her mother had left behind a tattered and stained pink velvet ribbon tied around the handle of one of the baskets. That was odd. Was that the one that Onya had worn as a bracelet until her 13th birthday?
She started to ask, but before she could, her mother pulled Onya into a hug. Mother was a sturdy woman, half a foot taller than her daughter. The unexpected hug squeezed the breath from her.
This woman was not known for showing affection to her children. The hug was quick, but fierce. She wiped her eyes as if something upset her. This new concern made Onya forget to ask about the ribbon.
What on earth could be wrong?
Mother left no time for that question, pushing her daughter out the door when they heard screams from the kit’s playroom. Someone had done something again. It sounded like another emergency.
“You better get going. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” Mother shut the door with a bang as soon as Onya was clear of it. Her mother’s strange behavior made Onya wonder if it had to do with a pregnancy.
That must be it, then. More brothers and sisters were on the way. Her mother was acting strangely because she was going to have another batch of kits.
Letting her questions go, Onya decided to be thankful for the time out of the house and the cheery sky overhead. Last week’s rain would have drenched her to the bone.
Their village was old. This countryside vista in front of her had looked the same a hundred years ago. Like most of the rabbit shifters, Onya and her family lived on a small farm allotment just outside the town center’s main cluster of homes and two-story businesses. She walked past sheep and rock walled gardens to the road that led to the market, enjoying the sounds and smells of the countryside. The scents of cut clover, green grass, and almost ripe wheat hung rich in the air before the smell of the town overtook it.
It was so good to be outside. Perhaps if she hurried, she could take the path to the dark wood and escape for a bath in her favorite icy waterfall and then sun herself dry in a patch of afternoon light.
The last time she’d escaped to do that, Mother came to find her. Onya was caught touching herself, one hand in the folds between her legs, circling the little bump. The other had played with a white rabbit ear, petting the secret spot near the bottom in the back and stroking her own fur with her thumb. Wonderful trills of pleasure ran up and down her spine as she bit back the moans caused by the terrible pleasure of it all.
Mother had been furious. “I told you never to do that, you naughty rabbit. Are you nothing more than Rabbit Trash, little slut? Can’t you control yourself? I’ll find a mate for you and then you will learn some control.”
Onya had gotten her hands, and feet rapped with the ruler. Twenty times each. She must be a really awful kind of girl, then, for she still craved to escape for some privacy and satisfy the constant itchy ache that lived under her skin. It might be worth the risk of punishment if she could find some relief. Maybe, she could finish this task quickly enough, and find a quiet place for herself before her mother missed her.
