Alexandra Draymoor
The Smallest Leap
Alexandra never missed a day. There was a piece of paper with her name expected to be signed for a behavior problem in attendance or for a staff meeting that would long outlast dinner service. Today—once in a lifetime—there was a free afternoon for herself. Not for a meeting. Not for school. For herself.
And for the rabbit.
The Magical Menagerie was just as she recalled it: noisy, cluttered, with too many odors. A rat darted under a pile of toad grub. Pygmy puffs sniveled in enclosures like wizardly cotton balls. A small boy struggled a leash from a chattering Wexford Half-Crup with limited success. Alexandra pushed them all aside with head up and fur smoothed close in combing, the very picture of a creature who was about to get what they came for.
She hesitated in a row of owl cages—too discordant. A cat spat at her across the glass—too sinister. A goldfish blinked at her—too wet. A big black lizard stretched out beneath a crystal lamp that regarded her impassively. She stared at it for half a moment before exiting.
She had not come for the ordinary.
Beyond the ranks of toads, of spiders, of snakes—none of which she so much as looked at—was a quieter area. There were fewer people who came through. It was a little cooler, a little darker. She was thankful for the stillness. The sleek wooden sign creaked overhead:
Mist Hoppers – Delicate, Flightiest, Enjoyed Rain.
Standing in back of the counter stood an elderly couple. Both of them had heavy, worn robes on along with spectacles that had been fixed as many times as they kept tabs. The woman was first to look up, and after a moment of introspective looking at Alexandra with a familiar expression, nodded in acknowledgment and poked her own husband. He blinked, beamed.
"A little thing you're searching for?" he asked, voice sounding like wrinkled parchment.
Alexandra's eyes never wandered from the enclosure. “Something subdued.”
Under bunches of hay and moss, bits of brown and gray fur clung on the glassed-in deck. Five of the Mist Hoppers, small as teacups were big, rolled up in a sleep heap and ears that twitched. The dark one of them sat up as if it heard her. Its fur was a dark smoke gray, almost black near the ears, and its body appeared to be made out of tension. One throb of a heartbeat and it leaped up into the air with a bound past a rock and down again with experienced ease.
"That one," Alexandra motioned without speaking, pointing.
The elderly woman smiled, already unearthing a soft-crease pail from behind the counter. "Good spot. She's that feisty little one. Almost leaped out of that tank last week."
"Strong legs," the man concluded, diving in with gentle hands. The rabbit struggled for an instant before tensing up tightly wedded to the carrier.
Alexandra sat forward and caressed a hand along a rabbit's head, through its ears. It was heavy, smooth fur and warmer than expected under her hand. The Mist Hopper snuffled its snout but never stirred.
"What will you name her?" inquired the old lady politely.
"Tempest," replied Alexandra without hesitation
It wasn't from that centuries-long superstition during Mist Hoppers that predicted weather for storms—although the irony wasn't lost on her. It was that it was one that breathed motion itself, muscle and immobility, grace and explosive energy contained in a body no bigger than a fist. A storm waiting to happen.
The man swaddled the carrier, swaddling it in a warmth-enveloping of trinkets. "She'll require room sometimes, but she'll slip into pockets in an instant. They always do."
Alexandra assented. "I will ensure she gets both of them."
She was paying in full, turning down the kind offer of discounted accessories for first-time rabbit owners. The couple did not appear shocked. Rising to leave, the woman's face fell and she whispered after them, "Take care of each other."
Alexandra spoke no word. She was not obliged.
Back out, Diagon Alley was bustling with Saturday afternoon shoppers. Alexandra pushed through them like a wave, Tempest’s carrier tucked firmly under her elbow. The rabbit wasn’t moving—only rolled up tight from the heat, trusting. That trusting struck Alexandra harder than she anticipated.
Despite all of her strength and size, despite all of school and staff and student responsibilities that sit on her shoulders—this was different.
And this, she knew, was hers. And Tempest? Tempest was headed for home.────────────────────────────────↳ Interacting With: @
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↳ OOC: 747 words
