Breaking of Bread

Story by Draven on SoFurry

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Something I cam up with today. I have been wanting to write about my Ashened a bit since I came up with them. It's relatively simple, and short.

This is just something I came up with and wanted to write about. One of the Ashened bunnies from here offering to share a special meal, and a night with you.

Please enjoy.

The rabbit smiles as he sees you enter his tent. He motions you to sit down on a mat, as other mutual people you know arrive. You see several round balls of fresh baked bread sitting in a pile on a platter. The rabbit has a solemn look on his face. His dark blue dyed fur, looking almost black in the lantern light, still shows glossy, from a recent grooming. Once everyone is seated around the small tables were several bowls rest, along with the platter of bread, a knife, a separate bowl of honeyed butter, several spoons, and a steaming cauldron of some kind of stew, the rabbit stands on the lone mat available.

"Greetings to you," the rabbit's quiet voice says, "you all know me and my ways. You know what this bread represents to me. I will explain the reasons why to you in a story. So I please beg your patience."

"This is the story of my father, a Shaper by the name Feather Foot," The rabbit says, as he picks up the bowl and the knife, starting to cut a circle into the ball of baked bread at an angle pointing inside slightly, "and how a friend of his became a part of him."

"You see," the rabbit continues talking, as he prepares the next series of bowls the same way as the first, "during my father's time, he was contracted along with several other of the Ashened to help an army of Orcs defend their homeland. They were a strong proud bunch, but they needed some with a better means of being subtle. So they asked the Ashened to send a squad that could go in, lay traps, sabotage structures, make people disappear. During this time my father had been learning some of the ways of Shadows to help him balance what he knew as a Shaper. He had dyed his fur a very dark red. Very much the way a pool of blood looks by fire light, with dark orange rosettes. The type that reminds you of dieing embers in a fire."

The rabbit, sets the completed bowls aside, as he sits to continue the story.

"Some of the Orcs did not take kindly to these rabbits being there," The rabbit says with a smile, "specially one of them, named Iron Teeth. So named because he had capped all his teeth in iron. He was the loudest, asking 'Why bring these prey into our lands, to defend our homes, when we are strong enough to do so.' His captain motioned for my father to step up and show why. Which my father did, for you see the orc how a lot more to say, and while doing so, ended up having his legs swept from under him, and a knife held to his throat, by one of these weak rabbits, that he looked down on. Needless to say the first meeting of Feather Foot, and Iron Teeth did not go well."

The rabbit moves closer to the cauldron, starting to ladle the stew into the bread bowls.

"During their stay," the rabbit continues the story, "may father and his team helped destroy many of the enemy compounds. Iron teeth also did his fair share of work as a front line soldier, always making sure we knew it to. 'This is how a true warrior fights,' he'd say when he came back to the camp. He did have some respect for the squadron though, and knew to make sure they cared for. Some of their work from previous nights, had saved many a soldier's life he called brother when they went to fight. He also knew of the rabbits' more basic desires for companionship, but had not taken the opportunity himself."

The rabbit picks up the cones of bread he had cut from the balls to make the bowls, and starts to use the knife to spread the honeyed butter onto the bread.

"However that had changed one night," the rabbit says, his voice taking on a more tense tone, "the enemy had found out where the Orcs' camp was, and attacked. My father and his squadron had made it out, only to see Iron Teeth look about, then turn and watch as the camp started to catch fire. 'I can't abandon my comrades,' he said, no shouting, no boasting, just simple word. His actions were not so simple though, as he had charged headlong into the fiery camp. My father, who as a Shaper, had learned a good deal about fire magic, went in after him. I was not told all the details, but I do know from what my father had told me, that Iron Teeth and he had saved Iron Teeth's shield brother. Pulling him from one of the makeshift lodge houses they had, as it was burning."

The rabbit smiles, "It was after that, and that when things had settled down, that Iron Teeth had sought my father. 'I don't know if I could have made it out of their myself,' the Orc said, no amount of wounded pride in his voice, just simple statement of fact, 'but I do know I could not have rescued my shield brother without your help. I would ask that you warm my bed with me tonight. So they did, sharing a night of rugh hard passion, and for several nights after."

The rabbit sets the buttered cones of bread aside, as he continues the story, his voice carrying a sad tone, "However an arrow took Iron Teeth down in battle. He was carried back to camp, his breathing labored. He had asked for my father. 'I know your ways,' he said in a wheeze, 'I wish to be carried on in some manner. I ask that you, and your companions, use my ash in your bread after my body is committed to the flames.' My father solemnly agreed, saying he would be honored to, and that through him, Iron Teeth would have his revenge on his enemies."

The rabbit stands, as he starts to grab a bowl, and a cone of buttered bread, starting to pass the items to each person in the tent.

"And have revenge he did," the rabbit says with a hint of pride in his voice, "they had found the enemy camp, stormed it, and crushed it under foot. After which my father and his squad had returned home, and lived out their years."

The rabbit takes the spoons, and passes them out last, placing each one in a the makeshift bowl.

"I was not there when my father died," the dark blue dyed rabbit says, "but I was told of his request to me. His request was that I take his ash, and use it, as he used his friend's. To invite those I knew and trusted, to tell them of his story, to enjoy their warmth for the night, and for us to share our stories together."

"So I ask of you here and now," the rabbit says as he picks up a bowl himself, and raises it in salute to those gathered, "would you do me the honor of sharing this meal, this breaking of my father's bread, of sharing this night, this tent, my bed with me? Share with me your stories, as I share with you mine? Would you do me that honor?"

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