With a mewling shriek, a dark mass tumbled onto the hearth, a shape with too many legs and too many eyes. A charred log spun out onto the floor next to it and Stevie barely managed to kick it back toward the fireplace. The writhing shape emitted a high-pitched squeal, revealing its long legs and equally long ears, sparks that I had mistaken for eyes. Its lips peeled back in blackened petals. Nisa screamed as it leapt from the hearth, bumping into her chair. Stevie grabbed a fireplace poker. “Don’t hurt it!” shrieked Nisa. The black hare darted from the room.
What.
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