Getting caught in the rain.

I’m having a walk through the woods … well, more of a hop, really; it’s more fun that way. I’m out far from town, with nothing around but trees, the sighing of the breeze, and the singing of the birds. I’m wearing a halter top and a skirt, both powder blue, to match my eyes. My top is short enough to show my fuzzy tummy and low-cut enough to show my fuzzy cleavage. My skirt is short enough that it covers my ass and my crotch and not much else. I’ve cut a slit in the back of the skirt so that my bunny tail can pop out; this also helps hold my skirt in place, which is a good thing, since if it slipped so much as an inch, I’d be giving quite a free show. I’m not wearing shoes; my furry feet don’t mind the rough ground, and shoes just interfere with my hopping.

Unfortunately, I’m enjoying the air and exercise so much that I don’t notice when the sky turns gray. The rumble of thunder is my first warning that I should have turned back ten minutes ago. Then the rain pours down over the trees, the trail, and myself, and I know that if I don’t find shelter soon, I’m going to wind up cold, wet, and miserable.

Up ahead, I see something that looks like a cabin. I dash ahead, crossing the intervening distance at full bunny speed, and find myself in front of a tidy, warm-looking log house. I rap quickly on the rough door. “Hello? Hello?”

The door opens, and I recognize the woodcutter’s son, Aaron. I’ve seen him in town a few times, and he’s always a pleasant sight. He’s only slightly taller than me (well, shorter than me if you count my ears) and about twenty years old, with honey-brown hair, dark eyes, warmly tanned skin, strong shoulders, capable hands, and a kind face. Aaron and his father are fully human (no tails, no horns, no claws, no fangs), which is rare around here, but I've always liked the way Aaron looks, just the way he is.

He looks surprised to see me, and then pleased. “... Oh! Hi!”