The forest: Leaves, sticks, and moss formed an intricate blanket beneath which his paws pounded. A small rabbit was hopping away.

It was the past. Feral.

Yet calm.

It ran, he ran, leaves and twigs rustling beneath his paws. It was dark, but not night. The distance was closing, but he felt nothing, as if the whole world was floating through its motions without cause or reason. He felt the simplistic ignorance of a clouded mind.

Then he thought he heard a soft sobbing, echoing through the dark woods. From...the bunny? It sounded like a 12 year old boy. Could he be...

Darkness began to swallow the scene. He noticed his whole patch of wilderness had been on an island in a black void. It soon all disappeared beneath his paws, leaving a solid but invisible surface.

"Predators are more dangerous!" said a male voice that reminded him of a honking horn. "We don't have fangs and claws."

A female voice came next, "But how could someone..." then the voice faded. What were they saying? All of it was hidden behind a veil of his own waxing and waning consciousness. He realized he was dreaming, trapped in his own imagination. But were they real?

"I'm not saying...but...history..."

The next thing he heard were footsteps. But they faded. As did his grasp on the entire concept of the real world.

The darkness lifted again, revealing the bunny. It was stationary, pecking at the ground. Aimless and robbed of his sense again, Francisco approached, still on all fours like his ancestors. As in invisibly intertwined, the rabbit began bouncing away too.

The coyote sped up.

The rabbit sped up. Leaves crunched beneath his feet.

The sobbing came back.

Why? Where was it coming from? Why must it haunt his hunt?

He chased.

Was it coming from the rabbit?

He picked up speed. Yes, it got louder. Just before the bunny got faster.

Yes.

Feeling disarmed, a softer impulse overtook him, as lucidity started to creep back in. The coyote slowed.

The bunny slowed.

Until they were both stopped.

Yes, the rabbit was clearly weeping.

With soft but obvious footsteps, and wide tender eyes, Francisco approached. The rabbit did not move.

He was so close. The creature continued to weep.

He gently moved to put a paw compassionately on its shoulder.

"Hey-" he began.

But the instant paw touched fur, the creature veered around, its head instantly expanding to terrifying proportions to bite-

Frank gasped! He jerked in fear and heard a bed beneath him.

A hospital bed.

Yes. A hospital. White walls, torquoise gown, beeping machines and all.

And horrible nausea. And a splitting headache.

A chubby female beaver, a nurse, was looking at him with her hand on her heart, and mouth agape.

"My goodness! You scared me!"

He tried to speak, but in his confused daze could produce little more than a groan. His head felt heavy. He let out an involuntary, dumb groan, and put a hand on his head, only to find it IVed.

He just hoped he still had all his brain capacity.

"You're safe, dear!" she said, power walking to the bed side and then clutching his other paw compassionately. "You were unconscious for sixteen hours! We were afraid you were never going to recover!"

"I-"

He had a horrible headache.

"Just take it easy, hun," she said in a motherly tone.

"What..." He was about to finish his question but it seemed stupid. He knew what had happened. He had been chasing a rabbit who stole his wallet, and had been kicked in the head. By a hippo...or a rhino. A police officer, either way.

"How much do you remember?" she asked, eyes bearing tender concern. He was smart enough to match her concern, at least.

"I was..." speaking gradually felt easier. "I was...outside." Yes, fluid now. "On the streets. Someone stole my wallet. I chased him. Then a hippo kicked me in the head."

It sounded almost comical when laid out like that, but Francisco was in no laughing mood. He had an awful headache, and felt half-ready to puke.

Suddenly, those same hard, determined footsteps from his dream returned, but this time clearly coming from the hall outside.

A male doctor, a pig, entered the room. He looked at his patient with surprise.

"Mr. Hernandez! You're awake," he said. He did not sound particularly elated, almost as if simply making a note.

"Yes," the nurse said. "Thank heavens!"

"How do you know..." Again, he decided not to finish the sentence. It seemed a stupid question. There were plenty of ways to know his name.

"Just try to relax, sweetheart," the beaver nurse said. "You've been through a lot."