Chapter two :) again, please read and review.
Eleanor looked about the woods and shivered. It was Easter Sunday of 1906 and the fog had rolled in thick. She didn't mind, because it meant the egg hunt would be that bit more challenging. Smiling slightly to herself, the six year old pulled her red scarf tighter around her next and pulled her coat snug around her. She was wearing bright red Wellington boots, meaning her feet were kept warm and dry, black tights, a plain brown skirt, a brown coat, and a red bobby had too. Her hair was long, chestnut coloured and every time the wind rushed past it blew up and about her in a flurry. The wicked basket in her hand swung to and fro as she trudged through the woods, and her greyhound Roger trotted by her side, his ears perking every now and then as he sniffed the ground.
She wasn't expecting much, she mused to herself. The eggs would be near enough covered by the thick fog, or well hidden, but since it didn't seem like hunting weather, she might have one up on the kids that didn't come out.
"Looks like Jack Frost made it very cold today Roger," she whispered to the dog, who woofed lightly in response. She felt another chill bite at her nose, and her cheeks like someone was pinching them, and she swatted at the air. Her eyes strayed to Roger, who had shifted his stance and was looking fixedly at something before them. She turned her eyes to where he was looking but saw nothing.
"Boy, what-?" she started, but the dog barked loudly at this invisible being and pelted off into the mist.
"Roger!" she cried, brushing her hair back and running in the same direction the dog had. The fog seemed thicker here, and the trees more dense. She'd been told by her mother not to stray off the main path, but she didn't want to leave the dog to go running off. It was odd, he'd never done anything like this before! "Roger," she shouted again, stopping and looking around at the woods and gulping at how lost she felt. Her boots made it hard to run and she could neither see nor hear the dog.
Then suddenly the mist thinned out before her, in only one direction, and she heard a muffled cry up ahead.
"Roger?" she whispered, and moved forward again, this time more slowly.
She pushed her way through thick brush, wincing as twigs flicked against her face, her brown eyes wide and searching for the pooch. One thick root twisted up out of the ground and she heard snarling from the other side of it, heaving herself up she looked and saw Roger baring his teeth at a bush, just one lone bush that seemed to be quivering.
"Roger, shush!" she snapped, and the dog shut up instantly, cowering away from her as she raised a hand to shove him to the side. Looking into the shadow of the bush, she saw the figure of... something. Whoever it was was clutching their leg, which stuck out at a very odd angle and made her wonder what it was.
"Keep that bloody thing away from me!" he snapped, and she jumped back in shock and fright from the voice. The man had a different accent, nothing she'd heard around London before.
"I-I'm sorry sir," she started, and he scoffed.
"Damn right you are, should keep that thing on a leash."
She felt hurt, and it must have shown because right away the man sighed, his shoulders slumped, and he looked up at her. She could just make out the shine of two brilliantly green eyes, two very large brilliant green eyes, and she felt enchanted right away.
"Sir, can I help you? Did he hurt you?"
"Only a little, I'll be fine, you go back home now," he said gently, and she felt curiosity tug at her. Her mother always told her not to talk to strangers, but this man seemed different. It was like she knew him somehow, from a dream of dreams.
"Who are you?" she asked, sounding a lot cheekier than she'd intended, "Where have you come from? You're not local."
He chuckled, and shook his head, shuffling slightly further into the shadows, but she could tell from his gasp and wince that he was hurt quite badly.
"No, I'm not from round here. I'm Australian, now you should really get that mutt back home," she heard him say, before he added on under his breath, "or to a pound."
She felt her feet carrying her forward, felt her arm reaching out for the branches of the bush and though he panicked somewhat and protested against her coming closer she did anyway, wonder and curiosity belittling her common sense or respect for others wants. Pulling the branch away she noticed how the fog had cleared from this hallow, how the sunlight was streaming through the trees to create a dappled green light, how it was the same as the man's eyes, which were wider now and even more vivid. She shed the light on him, and in their own little world of green light and wonder her large innocent brown eyes met his large scared green ones, and she felt a smile grace her lips and her heart swell with excitement and happiness. Tears stung her eyes and she knew she was right.
"You're the Easter Bunny," she whispered.
There was a paused, before he dropped his head and sighed.
"Yeah... I am."
"You're not what I thought you'd be," she told him, as she took his arm and helped him crawl from his hiding place. "I thought you'd be a lot more... cuddly." The first thing she'd noticed was the sheer size of him, he must have been several feet tall, taller than her father by at least a head. He was covered in grey fur which had darker patches in it that looked like flowers and tribal patterns. Boomerangs were fastened to his hip while eggs were strapped to his chest. He looked amazing, yet intimidating at the same time, but she felt no fear of him.
"You thought I'd be fat?"
"I didn't mean it like that sir, I am sorry," she replied, and he smiled slightly.
"I'd never be able to do my job if I was as jolly as old St Nick, would I?" he laughed, shooing her away slightly.
He tried standing, and she let go of his arm and took a step back, but he gasped and his body shuddered and in a second he was curled up on the floor again, crying out in pain, anger and frustration. She looked quickly at the leg he was holding onto and noticed his fur was matted with blood.
"Oh!" she cried, rushing forward and dropping to her knees by his side. "Did Roger do that?" she cried, reaching forward tentatively and touching his leg, only making him grit his teeth and hiss in pain.
"Yeah, your mutt did that. Stupid... bloody animal. I can normally outrun the ankle biters, but he's fast."
"He's a greyhound, they're racing dogs," she informed him, pulling her scarf from round her neck and reaching forward to his leg again. "They normally chase rabbits too."
"Whoa, what do you think you're doin' Sheila?" he asked in his loud Australian accent, and she looked up briefly. He was staring at her with those big green eyes, and she wanted to do as he said and leave him be, respect his wishes and go about her day, but she could see he was in a lot of pain, and though only six years old she wanted to help him so badly. George was exactly the same, he was so awkward when it came to being helped, and more often than not she was fixing up his cuts and bruises just like her mother and grandmother had showed her how to. It was the job of a young woman to take care of a gentleman after all. She decided to take the stern approach, as she so often had to, and she placed her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing.
"My name's Eleanor Rhodes, not Sheila. And mum said if you get a cut you should wrap it in a bandage. I don't have a bandage but I do have my scarf and maybe that'll help until I can get you home to look at you properly. It's dirty here and you might get an infection."
"Look, Eleanor... it'll- it'll ruin your scarf-"
"It's red anyway," she laughed, her brown eyes flickering up at him as a smile crept onto her face.
"Well, you can't take me home, it'll be fine."
The girl snapped her head up suddenly and her hands went right to her hips again, making him chuckle a little at how in a huff she looked, her face set with sudden determination that made the bunny stop dead in his tracks and focus on the little girl.
"Listen, my grandma was a nurse and I know that if you leave that cut then you'll get an infection, then your leg will have to be chopped off. I don't know about you, but I don't think you'll be able to carry on leaving Easter eggs if you have one less leg. Now I'm going to wrap your leg up, I'm going to take you home, I'm going to help you and you're going to let me. Understand?"
There wasn't really a question about it, the rabbit had no choice but to let the girl do as she wanted. He huffed a little but sat still as she wrapped his leg up with her scarf, stayed quiet as she helped him stand precariously on one leg and she served as his crutch while she sent the dog on ahead to keep him away from the Easter Bunny. Half way through the woods back to her home, he coughed pointedly and she looked up at him, carefully making sure to keep him supported and make sure they didn't trip over any roots.
"Listen, sunflower... thank you," he said quietly. "I know you... you like Easter. So I promise I'll sort something special out for you for helping me, okay?"
"That's fine sir," she smiled at the pet name he'd given her, focusing on the task on hand again. "By the way, is your name the Easter Bunny, or is it something else?"
He laughed, and pulled her into an awkward one armed hug that nearly sent both of them toppling over.
"My full name is E. Aster Bunnymund. But people just call me Bunny, mostly, or Aster."
"People being...?" she asked, feeling her excitement swell again. It kind of still hadn't hit her that she was helping a six foot tall talking rabbit get to her house, but him talking about what she thought he was talking about made her all that bit more light headed and giddy.
"People being Santa, or North as we call him, Tooth Fairy, Sandy... ya know?"
"Santa Clause?" she whispered, opening the back gate to her house and peering through. The back door was open, but there was nobody inside. It looked like her mother had forced George to come shopping with her since he'd not gone out hunting eggs with her.
"Blimey, this is daft," he muttered, but she shushed him as she told Roger to wait outside for them and she helped E. Aster Bunnymund inside.
After a struggle she got him upstairs to the bathroom and ran a considerable amount of hot water into a small tub, sitting him on the john before she pulled her coat off, kicked her boots to the side and threw her hat to the side too. Peeling the scarf from his leg she grimaced at how much blood there was but continued anyway. Grabbing a cloth she soaked it in the hot water, ignoring the sting and how she wanted to pull her hand back from the water, and she dabbed carefully at his fur, washing away the dirt and blood and cleaning the wound. She ignored his hissing and squirming as best she could and carried on until the wound was clean and ready to dry and be bandaged.
"You should be a nurse or something, like your nana," he laughed quietly, and she smiled, shaking her head as she continues wrapping him up.
"No, when I grow up I want to write stories."
"What about?" he asked, smiling down at her and relaxing as she wrapped his leg in a fresh clean bandage she found in her mothers' sewing box.
"About you, and the others," she whispered, flushing red. "About how you are real."
There was silence as she finished bandaging him, and both sat there, feeling a little tense. Eleanor cast her eyes to the ground, feeling stupid, but suddenly she felt a hand on her head stroking her hair back, and she looked up to see him smiling down at her.
"I think that'd be wonderful."