My back aches against the cave wall, but I don't dare move. Bun's warm weight anchors me where I am, her slight body rising and falling with each breath, rabbit ears occasionally twitching against my stomach. I'm not even sure when they appeared. When Caine was done explaining how chess was something his father taught him as a child—in an effort to teach strategic thinking for battle, which made his confession seem a little less lighthearted than it was—I'd looked down, and there they were. Little white rabbit ears.
And a tiny puff coming out of her diaper. I can't smell anything, so I'm about seventy-five percent certain it's a little puffy rabbit tail and not… something else.
She's completely conked out, one tiny fist clutching my shirt like I might disappear if she lets go.
