It was a bright, sunny day in the forest—the sunlight cast dappled shadows over fallen leaves, the squirrels chattered and gossiped on their high branches, and the wind carried the faint scent of wildflowers through the trees. In this forest, a little white rabbit, brash and curious and confident in the way of so many young men, happened upon a grove of berry bushes. He was delighted at first to find such an unspoiled treasure in the midst of the woods; but that soon gave way to despair when he beheld its guardian. An old gray wolf, with a cunning slant to its eyes, lay in the grove’s center—basking in the shade of a truly enormous raspberry bush, so tall he could not even reach its lowest branches.

The little white rabbit was at first distraught to see a prize so near and yet so far, but soon his courage returned, and he hatched a plan. Not a particularly cunning plan, as this was quite a young rabbit, but a plan nonetheless. He would sneak in as the wolf slept and snatch the berries from right under its snout!

And so, he waited, watching to see when the old gray wolf’s breaths grew deepest, and its head relaxed against its paws. And with careful steps, he entered the grove, picking for himself the ripest berries from the grove’s edge.

The berries on the grove’s edge were not very ripe. He was hardly the first to have this idea, after all, and the sides of the grove were nearly picked clean. Soon he found himself venturing deeper in search of the biggest, juiciest berries—deeper and deeper he went, ever closer to the old wolf, until one moment he turned around and saw those cunning eyes staring straight back at him—wide awake. He froze, but before he could run, the old wolf spoke with a deep and resonant voice.

“Ah, do not run, little bunny. I have no reason to chase you. The berries in this grove are for all creatures to enjoy; I gain nothing from hoarding them.”

The rabbit hesitated. The wolf’s words made sense to him, and he did dearly want to stay and continue his feast, but he could not help the fear that coiled within him. Wolves ate rabbits; that was simply the way of the world.

“I see you hesitate, little bunny.” The wolf gave him a kindly smile. “I know you fear me. But I am old and worn; my time of hunting is long past.”

The rabbit shook his head. “Why should I trust you, old wolf?” His voice was uncomfortably squeaky, despite how he puffed out his chest and set his shoulders back. “Wolves eat rabbits. We both know this.”

The wolf nodded genially. “I once thought as you did, little bunny. But time wears such ideas away. This forest, its people—we live in a cycle, ever hunting, ever running. I see a better way. Come, let me show you my sincerity.” The wolf turned, and now facing away from the rabbit, lay upon its belly so as to flatten itself against the ground. “The berries on this bush are too high for you to reach, are they not, little bunny? Climb upon my back and I will carry you up to them and yet you shall be safe far from my jaws.”

With hesitant steps, the little rabbit climbed upon the old wolf, and found him true to his word. For many hours, he was ferried around the grove, allowed to feast to his heart’s content, and never once did the wolf make to bite him. The two even made small talk, as the evening progressed and the warmth of a full belly loosened the rabbit’s tongue, speaking of small and useless things, of how the wind blew the night before and the latest gossip overheard from the chattering squirrels. And when the sun set, the little white rabbit left the grove fat and happy.

~

“You smell of wolves, dear. Are you alright?”

The rabbit matriarch, with her wise eyes and long ears, fussed over him.

“I am fine, mother,” he responded, leaning in to her touch. “I smell of wolves because I met one today, in the grove many miles from here. He let me eat the berries from his grove of berry bushes, and we spent many hours speaking of small things. I believe I made a friend today.”

The matriarch looked at him with a gimlet eye. “You should not trust wolves, young man. They hunt rabbits like us.”

The young rabbit shook his head. “This one is different, mother. He is old and tired, and only wants to make the world a better place.”

The matriarch sighed. “Some animals see the world differently from us, child. A better world for wolves may not be a better world for rabbits. Please, be careful—you worry my old heart.”

The young rabbit nodded and leaned into her and the old woman let the issue rest for the night.

~

The next day, the rabbit found himself returning to the grove and the old wolf and the berries. This time, as he approached, the wolf was wide awake and waiting for him.

“Hello again, little bunny.” The wolf smiled. “I’m glad you came back. I so enjoyed our talks yesterday.”

The rabbit nodded. “My mother told me all wolves are dangerous, but you don’t seem so bad. I think she’s just scared for me.”

The wolf bobbed his head slowly, adopting a frown. “That’s understandable. Our species have a long, bloody history. But I think we can move past that. Come, and sit upon my back once again. We will speak more of this.”

This time, when the rabbit approached the wolf, he bent down and grasped the rabbit gently in his jaws. At first, the rabbit was greatly afeared, but he soon calmed as the wolf did not bite down, but instead set him gently upon his back before setting off to the nearby bush.

“Some people are stuck in their ways, little bunny.” The wolf adopted a lecturing tone. “They have lived too long, and now see the future only as a reflection of the past. But me and you? We are special. Enlightened. We have moved past this, and see the future for what it truly is—not a path of stone, but a great lake of endless possibilities. How we traverse it? That is up to us. We need not be enemies, little bunny. Our species need not be foes. I see a future where wolves need not hunt rabbits, and rabbits do not run from wolves. Do not listen to your mother—she is too stuck in the past. She does not understand this, not as we do.”

The little white rabbit nodded slowly. For the rest of the day, they spoke of less consequential topics.

~

As the sun set, the rabbit once more returned to his burrow. This time, his mother was waiting by the entrance. She eyed him with disapproval.

“You smell of wolf again, dear. I told you to stay away from them.”

The rabbit shook his head. “My friend isn’t like most wolves. He doesn’t hunt rabbits; he’s too old. He’s a good person.”

The matriarch tutted. “He is only taking advantage of your youth, child, to lure you in. Wolves and rabbits have never lived peaceably. It is simply not in our nature to do so. We rabbits flee just as readily as they hunt. People simply do not change as quickly as you believe—especially not clever old wolves.”

“You’re just stuck in the past, mother. Wolves and rabbits can live together. I will show you! We will show you. Life doesn’t have to be this way, poisoned by this miasma of fear.”

“Enough!” Even as the old rabbit matriarch spoke harsh words, her voice was quiet and tired. “Young man, I forbid you from seeing that wolf again. It is simply not safe. Rabbits like you should stay far away from wolves like him.”

The young rabbit snorted and thumped his back feet in frustration. Wordlessly, he entered the den. The two of them spoke to each other no more that night.

~

The next day, the young rabbit once again entered the grove, and once again, the clever old wolf was waiting for him.

“My mother forbid me to see you.” He spoke sharply, angrily.

“Oh?” The wolf cocked his head to the side. “Yet you came, anyway.”

The rabbit nodded. “Yes. She’ll be so mad at me … but it’s not right! She shouldn’t be able to control me! I’ll show her that wolves and rabbits CAN live together!”

The old wolf nodded approvingly. “Excellent choice, little bunny. In fact, I may have something to convince her. Come closer, let me bring you onto my back once again, and show you.”

The little rabbit nodded, and moved closer. Once again, the old wolf put his jaws ever so gently around him, as if to lift him up …

… and then snapped them shut, and devoured the little rabbit in a single bite.

And as the old, clever wolf licked his lips, he laughed to himself, and smiled widely. After all, in that moment, he had made the world a better place—one in which wolves did not chase rabbits, and rabbits did not run from wolves.