Once upon a time a hare searched for a room. The hare had a little one following each footstep always observing his elders steps and motions.
Chance was it that brought them to the hole in the ground... left hand... in the big cave. The hare loved it on sight and since her young one seemed to take to it as well she decided to move in.
Well, as nothing ever goes as planned the hare discovered soon enough that every opportunity has its ups and downs. The down of her rooming being the wolf next door. Now the wolf was too much into sniffing weeds to ever take an interest in swallowing the hare, he just liked to proveto himself what a big wolf he was and slapped her around.
Now the hare feared for her little one and while she grow to despise the big specimen in the other room she was too afraid to risk her child's life in the open. Besides having a wolf around had its benefits especially since rumour soon proved to be true "harebiter" had a bad reputation, even the more curious and adventuresome chose to stay clear of him over the years.
Probably why nobody had wanted to rent the beautiful hole in the first place. The hare considered its options and well being a hare without having a hole to use was inacceptable even if a wolf used hers in return, too. No matter what wolves were an everpresent danger and the wolf one knows is a better option than the strange one not known.
The hare obedient as a hare was supposed to be chose to take it all. All that slapping send her tumbling more than once to her young one's feet. It hurt the hare to see the pain the young hare felt for their misfortune. She hugged her child to her heart and whispered sweet nothings about safety and the sweet that lay ahead the young hare. Pity swelled in the young hare's heart for the loving mother's helpless state. Only time can tell though what would become of the young one.
The mother hare remained obedient and took all the slaps and bad words for the sake of her child. She let sleeping dogs lie and behaved like a good hare all sweet and cautious. What the young hare observed... year after year was her hurting, her bruises and the tears mother hare wept in the room she hoped... unobserved.
Poor mother hare was focused so much on her duties and safety though that she never saw the change in her child. For her child was male and succumbing was weakness in his eyes. Comparing what was in front of his eyes he was smart enough to know how to escape the fate of the weak or so he thought to be as he conclusion formed and learned to crawl: Side with the strong. Nobody slapped the wolf around, all feared his paw. Power craved the small hare, male principle calling deep in veins the pulse changed its tune. The young hare grew fangs.
Claws soon followed in the process. The admiration of the wolf on his to-do-list. He found the easiest way hit the wolf's favourite toy. Poor mom never knew what hit her in the first rain of abuse. She had vowed so often that no matter what she'd love her son anyway. The young hare knew she was to be trusted, loyal heart that she was, so nothing to loose but all towards gain her young one made it to the top of his foodchain.
The young hare chuckled as he sniffed the funny weeds for the first time in the old wolf's company. He did it all right followed his dear mother's advise, 'don't ever let anyone bully you' she had said. Nevertheless she was weak and while he still loved her he also despised her. Her weakness ran in rivulets from her body, he could smell her tears which still made his stomache churn, not so bad anymore though after sniffing the weeds it used to calm down.
The young hare never understood by heart why the elder hare accepted the abusive behaviour of the wolf. He could see nothing good at all in the fearridden existence that made him cringe in disgust. She loved him and that was all he needed from her now. A wolf's path was his own.
Weeds took his life long before he fed the daisies. The hare always cried and hoped for a change, being a nice and caring example as opposed to a bad slap-around-wolf was to be prefered, so why? How could the sweet little child that lived to admire her and cry bitter tears over her bruises grow first fangs than claws and become a predator. He was a hare by nature, a loving, caring being that hid and ran from the enemy, not a fiend that sniffed weeds joined in groveling laughter with wolves.
. . .
'We all have different needs and places in life' ,she had taught him. 'We have to tolerate the choices of others', she had preached. 'Don't get angry at the wolf he has his own package to carry through life." Why had nothing of this wisdom reached her beloved young one.
The young hare learned a lot at the hands of his mother. He understood after a while women like a storng hand. You need to keep them in line to get their admiration, they admire the strong which they can never be. It is just not one of their needs to be free or repected, hares prefer duty, silent bearance are responsible, loyal and well, need a wolf in their hole. Hares cry happy tears bruised to the bone. They care for the young in their sweet gentle nature they'd never be able to survive on their own, which is why they find themselves wolf to live with. And well they make good teachers in life, she explained herself what he himself would never have accepted or undestood, could have saved him a lot of tears in young days though to understand sooner. Such a pitiful creature.
The shadow of the wolf that followed the young hare became the shadow of a hare following a wolf. A wolf's face in the mirror, a wolf's growl in the night, a wolf's sniff on the funny weeds even... a young hare's last tear fell ages ago.