Bunny and his tail

⏱ ~5 min reading

In a forest clearing, among ripe strawberries and soft moss, lived a little bunny. His name was Stepko. His fur was gray, like a cloud before rain, with a white muzzle and black cherry eyes. His paws were fast. His ears were long, with dark tips. Everything about Stepko was like a real bunny. Everything except one.

Tail.

Styopka's tail was tiny, tiny. Round. White. Like a single dandelion fluff. Like a piece of sugar. Like a drop of milk that accidentally fell on his gray fur and froze.

Stepko was ashamed of his ponytail. He was very, very ashamed.

"Look," he sighed in the morning, looking at his reflection in a drop of dew. "The squirrel's tail is red, fluffy, like fire. The fox's is long, with a white tassel. Even the mouse's is longer than mine. And what do I have? A ball. And a small one.".

The bunny neighbor, Bovdurko, had a slightly larger tail. And he always laughed:

— Stepka, didn't you at least lose it in the grass?

"No," Stepko grumbled. "Here he is.".

"Oh, just don't show it - or you'll see that it's not there," laughed Bovdurko.

Stepko was sad. He thought for a long time: "What's the point of such a tail? There's no point in warming it. There's nothing to wave it around. Unless it's to show that you're a bunny - and ears are enough.".

It went on like this for a long time. Until that morning.

It was late autumn. The forest smelled of wet leaves and mushrooms. Styopko was jumping between raspberry bushes - looking for a dry seed. And suddenly - the branches cracked. Loudly. Ouch-ouch-ouch.

A wolf jumped out from behind a thick Christmas tree trunk. Big, gray, with yellow, hungry eyes. He was thin - he obviously hadn't eaten in a long time. He saw a bunny. And he moved towards it, crouching low to the ground.

Steppe's heart fell somewhere in his paws. He didn't even think. He jumped to the left - and rushed through the forest, as if wings had grown under his paws.

The wolf rushed after him. Styopko could hear his breathing. Hot. Close.

The bunny flew past the fir trees, jumped over clumps of moss, and dived into thickets of ferns. Branches beat against his ears, wet leaves flew from under his paws. His heart was pounding so hard that it seemed he could hear it in the whole forest.

"Faster! Faster!" he whispered to himself. "Just don't stop.".

The wolf was not far behind. He was bigger and stronger. On a straight road he would have caught up. Stepko knew this. So he shied away to the side - and flew into a thick thicket of thorns. The thorns dug into his fur, tore at his sides. But the hare did not stop. He made his way into the very thicket - to where even a ray of sunlight barely penetrates.

The wolf pushed after him. He growled. He snorted. He sniffed one twig, then another. He lost sight of him.

Stepko hid under a large green leaf. His heart was pounding so hard that it seemed like the leaf was jumping above him. His body was gray. In the darkness between the bushes, he looked like a real gray pebble. The wolf wouldn't see him. He wouldn't see him.

But suddenly Stepko froze even more.

Tail! White tail!

If the wolf comes in from this side—and he will, because he can smell—he will see a white spot. Small. Bright. As if someone had thrown a freshly washed handkerchief on the ground. And that was it. And the end.

Stepko instinctively — without even thinking — tucked his tail under him. He pressed it tightly, tightly to his belly. And froze. Disappeared. Turned into a gray lump of earth.

The wolf came close. So close that Stepko could hear his hot breath on the leaf. He sniffed. He listened. He stood. He sniffed again.

Nothing.

The wolf growled in annoyance and went on to search elsewhere.

Stepko didn't move for a long time. A very long time. Until it got dark. Until a small butterfly flew into the bushes and landed right on his nose. Then he exhaled. And he realized - he had survived.

As Stepko slowly made his way home, everything was coming together in his head.

The same ponytail he was ashamed of... The same ponytail that seemed ridiculous to him... The same ponytail he hid - and it saved him.

And Stepko remembered something important. When the hares run away as a family, the white fluff behind them glows in the grass — like a small flashlight. The little hares see it and know where to run after their mother. They won't get lost.

"Wow," whispered Stepko. "It turns out that my tail is a signal for my friends during the day, and a hiding place from the enemy at night. It is both light and darkness. Depending on when it is needed.".

At home he sat on a stump for a long time. He looked over his shoulder. His tail shone in the moonlight - round, white, warm.

"You are my weapon," Stepko said quietly. "And my flashlight. And my hiding place. And I was ashamed of you.".

He touched it with his paw—carefully, tenderly, as if he were hugging a little friend.

The next morning, Bovdurko laughed again. But Stepko wasn't offended this time. He just smiled and said:

— And my tail saved me.

Bovdurko didn't understand. And Stepko didn't feel bad anymore. Because he understood a simple thing: what sets you apart is your treasure. Even if it's not immediately clear why.