Before he could formulate a suitably gruff response, the door to the school opened and what appeared to be a horde of children erupted into the gym in a riot of color and noise. Sara followed them, talking to a small goblin girl, but Maisie saw him first.
“BUNNY!”
He froze. The other children froze. Sara stopped mid-sentence, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ of surprise that did absolutely nothing to calm the hammering in his chest.
Then the chaos erupted.
“It’s a big bunny!”
“Miss Sara, there’s a bunny!”
“Can I pet him? Can I? Can I?”
A wave of tiny bodies launched themselves at him. He staggered back, his fight-or-flight instincts screamingrun, but before he could move, he was surrounded by children, all reaching for him with determined little hands.
“Hey—” he started.
“Children!” Sara’s voice cut through the pandemonium. “What did we talk about? We don’t touch people without asking permission.”
The tiny horde retreated approximately three inches, vibrating with barely contained excitement.
“You came,” Maisie whispered, staring up at him now with absolute devotion, like he was some kind of super hero.
“Mr. Ben brought candy for everyone,” Sara said, her eyes meeting his over the sea of small heads. There was laughter in them, and warmth, and something that looked almost like gratitude. “But only if we use our good manners and ask nicely.”
“Please can we have candy Mr. Bunny?” the children chorused, their voices an overlapping cacophony of desperation.
“It’s Mr. Ben,” he corrected gruffly.
“Please can we have candy Mr. Ben Bunny?” Maisie amended.
Sara made a sound that was definitely a laugh disguised as a cough, and he glared at her. She smiled back, radiant and unrepentant, and his stupid heart did a flip in his chest.
A small brown missile suddenly launched itself at Adrian’s legs.
“Uncle Adrian!” A half-shifted Peter clung to his uncle’s jeans, tail wagging furiously. “You came too! You said you were too busy!”
“I changed my mind.” Adrian ruffled the boy’s hair. “I couldn’t miss the chance to see Mr. Ben get mobbed by kindergarteners.”
He glared at the werewolf but Adrian only looked amused.
“All right, children,” Sara said calmly. “Mr. Ben will give each of you one piece of candy. What do we say?”
“Please and thank you!”
“Excellent.”
The children’s movements became a chaotic shuffle rather than a full-blown stampede, which was a small mercy. They surrounded him, a sea of bright colors and wide, curious eyes, their voices a babble of questions and exclamations.
“You’re so fluffy!”
“Are you really a bunny?”
“Do you have a fluffy tail?”
“Can I touch your fur?”
He froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the scent of chalk dust and juice boxes and the cacophony of high-pitched voices. The sheer, unfiltered energy of it all made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end. But then Sara was there, her presence a calming anchor in the storm of small bodies. She placed her hand lightly on his arm and left it there as he distributed the candy.
