It never stopped me from feeding the neighbour’s cat. I would pinch bits of meat off my plate at dinner and stuff them deep into my pocket, careful to avoid my father’s gaze. The cat had no collar or name tag, so I called him Bunny.
A brief smile flickers at the memory, but it quickly fades. I remember finding Bunny dead, his neck twisted like a ragdoll, his tortoiseshell coat caked with dirt from our flower beds and streaked with blood. One of the foxes must have gotten him. I sobbed for him, for the cat that wasn’t truly mine, and buriedhim in the garden. After that, I never thought about having a pet again.
“Relax, young one. Don’t be fooled—they’re not as sweet as they look.”Craize’s voice vibrates through the fleshy walls of my mind.
“What do you mean by that?” I start to ask, but Mr Knight’s whistle cuts me off.
“Let the games begin!” he shouts.
Without warning, Craize leaps into the air. My knuckles go white as I tighten my grip on his mane, heart lurching with every frantic beat.
A pink cottony shape emerges between the translucent clouds. I hesitate, stomach churning at the thought of striking it. How can I bring myself to slay a bunny, even if Mr Knight says it’s part of the exercise?
Craize, however, dives straight for it with terrifying speed. The wind tears through my hair as he banks sharply over the mist-draped valley, each powerful beat of his wings slicing the air. Below, the stone spires of Sun Castle look small and distant, while the sky around us hums with movement.
Nala and Elijah chase in perfect tandem, their thighs gleaming with throwing knives holstered to their legs. Five pink, fluffy bunnies dart through the air like deranged cotton balls, wings flapping furiously. One locks eyes with me for a heartbeat, its gaze pleading, innocent.
Mr Knight’s words echo in my mind:“They don’t feel pain and heal instantly.”
With a pang of guilt, I unsheathe my knife and fling it. The blade slices through the bunny’s pink flesh and lodges in its neck. My heart jumps into my throat. How could I be so cruel?
The bunny doesn’t react—it freezes for a moment before I gingerly retrieve my knife, hand trembling. Tears threaten to spill as I stare at the wound… and then, impossibly, two newbunnies sprout from the original, pink fluff multiplying before my eyes.
“What the—?”
One of the bunnies snarls, then hurls a jet of fire that singes the tips of my hair. I jerk Craize upward in a reflex, and we rocket away from the fiery blast. The tears crawl back into the corners of my eyes; guilt is gone, replaced by pure shock.
‘I told you they weren’t as nice as they seem,’Craize chuckles.
“What the fuck, Craize? You could’ve warned me!” I gasp, catching my breath.
‘Where would be the fun in that?’he laughs again, and I roll my eyes.
Kareem flies close behind us, weaving through the chaos.
“They’re fire-breathing bunnies!” Nala shouts, laughing like she’s gone mad.
“And they multiply!” I add, utterly dumbfounded, gripping Craize’s mane as another pink fluff rockets past us.
Sweat beads along my brow as Craize ducks, instinct taking over. A bunny lies stunned beside us. I seize the moment and snatch a knife that isn’t mine, retreating the instant it’s in my grip—now fully aware the creature will divide and conquer me with a fiery rage. Elijah shoots me a glare.
I know without looking—I’ve stolen his knife.
I ride Craize’s dips and turns, using each movement as momentum to launch my blades in synchronised bursts. Every strike erupts in a puff of pink fluff and fire, the swarm doubling, then tripling around us like a storm of sugar-coated demons.
The air glows with pink fluff and fire, the stench of singed hair clawing at my senses. The bunnies multiply faster than I can track, and with every duplicate, their vengeance seems to double. Smoke burns my eyes raw, and they move so quickly now that choosing a target leaves me dizzy and disoriented.Some of the bunnies glitch after a while and form back into one, but others multiply even more.
“Craize, can you go any higher?” I shout, fingers tangled in his wire-like locks.
He surges upward. Wind tears across my face, forcing tears from my eyes as the battlefield shrinks below us. Higher and higher he climbs until we’re no longer part of the chaos—just spectators watching madness unfold. This could go on forever with the way the targets are tripling by the second.
“New plan,” I say, breathless. “We steal knives to end the game.”
Craize dips his head and dives back toward the cotton-candy carnage. Below us, Elijah clings to Faro, ducking and weaving, throwing his last knife and missing flames by inches. I know he’s down to one blade—because I took the other. He’ll be the first to fall.
Faro angles toward a stunned bunny in the distance. I don’t even have to explain. Craize understands. He threads us through walls of fire and drifting fluff, my stomach flipping violently as the ground tilts and spins. My breakfast croissant threatens rebellion.
Now I understand why they call this an assault course.
