There are bunnies throughout our world. There are rabbits, hares, whatever your preference. Yet, there is only one Fuzzy. Legends speak of a mysterious glen located nowhere, yet never too far from anywhere. Legend also speaks of a bunny, The Bunny...The Bunny of Cuteness. Many dispute legends and they have very good reasons to do so. Fuzzy, on the other hand is not merely a legend. He is a fact. Some mornings you may awake to find that you may not be as real as you would believe yourself to be. Fuzzy is at least as real as you.

First and foremost, Fuzzy is a bunny. Second and far more, Fuzzy is a man. As long as time could tell, for time is rarely more than one can remember, Fuzzy has always been in this glen. The only bunny with the fuzzy body of a fuzzy man. The cutest bunny with or without the fuzzy body of a fuzzy man. He was and many say still is the mentor of the forest creatures. Despite this, Fuzzy always felt an emptiness. He always felt out of place. There was more to this world than this glen, than this legend. This bunny was more than cute, he was ambitious, even curious. He left the glen and walked into a world of man, a world not meant for bunnies. This is his story.

Installment #01: Exodus
8 May 2001-As Relayed by Fuzzy

Hours would pass before anyone else stumbled upon Fuzzy. Word passed quickly through the glen. There were those that sided with Fuzzy, then there was Madame Muskrat. No one ever doubted Fuzzy. Sometimes he was like a wee bunny god. Many would use such status to his or her advantage, Fuzzy never was aware of such an option. He was a simple bunny first and foremost after all.

The first to find Fuzzy was Ms. Owl. He was curled under the tangled roots of an enormous oak tree. His bunny legs were all hopped out and he was exhausted. His eyes were adorned with dried eye dew, his heart was still in pain. He was shaking. He never noticed Ms. Owl perch above him on a low branch and he was startled when she spoke.

"Are you okay, you little hoser?" asked Ms. Owl, wisest of the forest creatures.
"Yelp!" was Fuzzy's reply. No, not a yelp, but the word "yelp" yelped as if he had merely yelped a word other than yelp. With this confusing yelp, he dropped what he had been clutching to his overactive chest.

It was a photograph, one Fuzzy had never shown to any other creature beneath the stars and leaf-domed glen. It was a photograph of Fuzzy's long-lost father. His name escaped Fuzzy, his personality escaped his memory. All Fuzzy had was the picture.

Those in the glen who were older than Fuzzy always knew, but rarely admitted that he was not born in the glen. He had appeared in the night and was left for the forest creatures to care for. Many would run from the site of something odd, yet the creatures of the glen accepted this cuddly bunny as if he were one of their own. The only evidence of his history was the photograph of his father, a photograph that was haunting Fuzzy's heart.

"My heart hurts," said Fuzzy,"It hurts like an empty tummy. I have tried eating cabbage, hopping for happiness, and even romance...which I never want to try again. But my heart still hurts."

Ms. Owl sighed and looked to the sky for a moment. She swung her beak around to catch a nearby spider and swallowed it. "More romance," thought Fuzzy. As the spider slid down her throat, the owl began to speak.

"Your heart IS empty like a tummy."
Fuzzy was perplexed, "How?"
"Sure, there is blood pumping through it," explained Ms. Owl with a tiny belch, "but it is empty of purpose. It keeps pumping, but it doesn't know why. I see you have been staring at the picture of your father."
Fuzzy was astounded, "How do you know..." "I was there when you arrived," interrupted the owl, "Your heart is empty because it doesn't know who you are. It is time for you to find out. There is more to this world than this glen. Your heart knows this even if you don't"

Fuzzy looked at his father's picture. She was right. He needed to know more about the world. He needed more than to be the Bunny of Cuteness, he needed a purpose.

Ms. Owl snatched a nearby mouse in her claw licking it once, twice, and with a three biting into it. Fuzzy had always wondered how many licks it took the owls to get to the center of a field mouse. It was this sort of knowledge he could share with the outside world. While he was at it, there was plenty he could discover about himself. He was a little scared, but he could already feel the pain in his heart dwindling. Unfortunately, it was replaced by the pain in his foot caused by the fire ant bed he was standing in. Ms. Owl chuckled at the foolish little bunny.

The next morning, Fuzzy said his goodbyes to the creatures of the forest. He even said goodbye to Madame Muskrat, although he was scared she may attack him again. Luckily for Fuzzy, one of her eyes had swollen shut and her right paw was swollen. He thanked Ms. Owl one last time and with a big breath and the picture of his father strode out of the glen deep into the forest along the path which would bring him to the rest of the world. He smiled...then scratched his itchy legs.