The Last Rabbit - Softcover

Thomas, Shelley Moore

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593173562 ISBN 13: 9780593173565

Verlag: Random House Children's Books, 2022

Inhaltsangabe

A modern fairytale about sisterhood, forgiveness, and redemption in the vein of The Girl Who Drank the Moon and The One and Only Ivan.

Off the coast of Ireland, on the island of Hybrasil, lives a Magician and four enchanted rabbit sisters. One by one, the rabbits have been leaving the island, accompanied by a Boy and his boat. When the rabbits leave, they can turn back into girls.

The last rabbit, Albie, remains. She doesn't want to leave, but the island is sinking. Before deciding where she wants to go, Albie visits each of her sisters. Caragh has joined a circus. Isolde is the captain of a pirate ship. And Rory wants to go home to the family's house in Cork.

Through many furry twists and hoppity turns, we learn how one mistake can lead to many consequences, and that forgiveness and family are always within reach.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Shelley Moore Thomas grew up in New Mexico, the middle of three children. A fan of fairy tales and UFOs, Shelley began channeling her abundant imagination towards writing back in elementary school. Now an elementary school teacher herself, Shelley spends her days helping the best people on the planet (children, of course!) unlock their creativity. Shelley lives in California with her kids and her dogs. Visit her online at shelleymoorethomas.com, on Twitter @story_queen, and Instagram @storyqueen.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One 

I wasn’t always a rabbit--that much I can tell you. 

Two years ago on this island, there were no rabbits at all. Just four girls, sisters, and a grumpy old man. 

Before that, just the grumpy old man. 

And then things . . . happened. 

If you’re guessing that magic was involved, you’re correct. 

Being a rabbit was not a bad thing, actually. Especially if a person liked carrots, lettuce, and other crispy green things. And fresh peas, perhaps the most perfect food on earth. (Not the kind that come in a tin and look like droppings.) Maybe being a rabbit was even better than being a girl. I had learned to be a good rabbit, after all. 

I don’t know if I was a very good girl. 

Now there were choices to make. If I stayed a rabbit, I could stay with the old man--we called him the Magician--and find a way to save the island. This was the hope that lulled me to sleep each night and greeted me when I awoke each morning. 

If I didn’t remain a rabbit . . . well, that created all sorts of new problems. The biggest problem would soon return to the island, with big words like future and destiny and plans to take me away. 

That problem’s name was the Boy. 

When the Boy arrived, I wasn’t in the safety of my burrow. The Magician had planted quite a spring garden of sweet peas and miniature radishes, bless him! I have already spoken of the deliciousness of fresh vegetables, I know, but sometimes once is not enough. Unless there is broccoli in your garden, which I certainly hope there is not. Everyone knows broccoli is stupid. Why it even exists, I don’t know. 

They weren’t coming up easily, the radishes. Instead of slithering nicely out of the moist dirt, they hung on to thick glops of mud. 

“Ah, Albie, look at your paws--covered in filth. That isn’t like you,” the Magician said when he spied me radishing. A rabbit enjoys dirt, of course, but mud is another thing altogether. Yuck. 

“You see, Albie. It’s getting worse,” he said. “We’re sinking. Soon we’ll be knee-deep in mud. And then . . .” 

His words dangled. 

The Magician sighed deeply, the breath rattling out of his old bones, and he walked back toward the castle. 

I was going to need a new burrow--and quick. I’d need a safe place to hide from that wretched Boy. On the other side of the castle was a hill that was still high and dry. It would do nicely. 

As I dug my new home and gathered carrots to snack on, I found myself thinking about my old home in Cork and all of the things I loved and missed. I remembered Mum, brushing out the tangles in my hair, whispering kind things in my ear to distract me from the tugging and pulling. “Don’t fuss, Albie,” she would say. “You are stronger than you know.” Or Papa, giving me my first slingshot, teaching me to aim strong and true. He was the one who gave me my nickname, Albie. He said that Alberta was stuffy. Apparently, Mum had picked the name, but I didn’t hold that against her. 

But other memories were terrible, filled with bombs and explosions. 

The very best memories were those of my sisters, but they were also the hardest. I missed them so very much. I clutched my carrots close to my heart. Carrots were everyone’s favorite. 

A clomping-through-the-mush sound startled me back to reality. 

The clomping got louder. I froze, my carrots falling to the ground with a soft thud. 

I should’ve known the Boy would come early. 

He wasn’t predictable. How such an irresponsible lad got a job as important as rowing the boat, I don’t understand. But letting my questions niggle around in my brain wasn’t doing me any good. I had to find a way out of the garden before he saw me. Or else. 

The garden lay between the shore and the old castle. The Boy was going to have to pass through to get to the Magician in the castle. There was no path. We didn’t need one, for we didn’t have any visitors on this island. 

Only the Boy. 

“Hullooooooo,” the Boy called from the far side of the garden. As if the Magician could hear him. The Magician was old, getting older all the time. His hearing wasn’t that good, which was to my benefit. How else could I sneak into the house whenever I wanted a cup of hot cocoa? And no, I didn’t make the cocoa myself. I simply licked the dregs from the bottom of the cup. The Magician drinks tea on the nights he wants to stay up and work on magic and cocoa on the nights he wants to read. 

I hid behind a rather large cabbage. Cabbages are better than broccoli but not much. The old Magician loves to cook colcannon, a potato-cabbage mixture that smells truly noxious. Thus, he grows lots of large cabbages. At this moment, I was quite grateful for mine. 

For I wasn’t a tiny rabbit. When we were first changed into rabbits, we were small, but soon we became the largish, silverish variety with soft pink on the inside of our ears. Each of us had a distinct marking. Mine is on my tail. There were four of us once. Four beautiful, majestic silver rabbits on the island of Hybrasil. 

Now there’s only me, on a sinking island. 

The Boy was stepping gingerly through the garden. Luckily, the best part of the carrots was still underground, though I loved to nibble on the lacy green top. I watched, trying not to breathe. 

Just then the Boy looked behind him, right at me. Or so it seemed. I was but one more gray shadow on a shadowy day. 

“Hulloooooooo?” he called again. He was closer to the old castle now. Close enough for the Magician to hear him. 

The Boy turned around quickly. 

“I know you’re out there. Watching. I can feel it.” 

I doubted this. From everything I knew of the Boy, he wasn’t the sort who could feel things. 

“And we both know why I’m here. It’s your turn.” A chill trailed down my spine. 

I froze. 

Yes. It was my turn. 

“It’ll be easier, you know, if you just come with me,” he said. 

If a rabbit could snort, I would have. It came out as more of a sneeze instead. 

“I knew it.” He took a small step toward the cabbages. I didn’t think he’d be fast enough to get me. Unless he’d been practicing since the last time. 

“Ah, my Boy, you’ve come!” the Magician said from the edge of the garden. The Boy turned, and I skittered back toward the forest and leaped behind a log. I dared not look up, but a rabbit does have fine ears. 

The clumping of the Magician’s uneven step was getting closer. One of his legs didn’t work like the other, and he used a stick to help him along. Perhaps if he’d used his magic on his leg . . . 

“The rabbit is nearby, sir,” said the Boy. “I feel it.” 

“You’re getting better. Well done, lad,” said the Magician. “Yes, she’s here. But the task is the same as always. You can’t take the rabbit by force. She has to go willingly. Like the others.” 

The Boy sighed. “I know. I hoped that, being the last, the rules had changed.” 

The Magician laughed wheezily. “Now, why would the rules change?” 

“I thought that with the island sinking more noticeably and all, you’d be more eager to . . . to help.” 

“You’ve had an easy time of it so...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Random House Children's Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2022
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593173562
• ISBN 13: 9780593173565
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 289
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Friedensallee 273; Hamburg; 22763; Deutschland