by Jay Lake and Ruth Nestvold
Once upon a time there was a rust-brown rabbit who lived in an ancient castle. The roofs were gone, the towers tottered, the courtyard was rife with brambles and roses gone as feral as an invading army. The sun shone through the eastern gate of a morning, and he would go out and nibble among the hardy grasses which thrived in the less shaded corners of the parade ground and wonder at the rotted banners hanging from the walls and why the world was shaped so.
One day, a Cream White Knight led a horse through the eastern gate--more an arch, really, hungry as an empty heart and open as loving eyes. It had been many years since anyone had dared to pass, and the rabbit watched, wondering what new shape the world would take now. The horse was beautiful--silvery-gray, with leather accoutrements and a riding saddle chased with silver to match its coat. The knight was a woman, aging but still strong of face, her shoulders high and rolling as she walked, one hand on her sword, the other holding the reins.