Of Moon Rabbits and Secrets

"Never do your thieving when the rabbit can see you, munchkin."

Tara looked up from her barely-won handful of berries, meant to be fated for tomorrow's pie, and saw the full moon shining behind her mother. It may as well have been a flashlight. "I was only trying to hide from you, mama, not the rabbit."

Her mother shook her head and picked up the bowl from the counter, gesturing at Tara to return her ill-gotten snack. "If you hide from one, you hide from all Tarinka. Even the moon won't keep your secrets."

Tara pouted and gave one last yearning glance to the berries, now returned to a higher shelf, before conceding and going back to bed.

The clang of a bowl hitting the counter too hard stopped her. When Tara turned back, her mother was bent over, her eyes closed. Without a word, Tara turned back and wrapped one tiny arm around her mother’s waist and walked them both to bed.

“Mama,” Tara whispered once they were under the covers of her mother’s bed, “How will you catch me eating berries if the sickness takes you?”

Her mother’s cold hand lifted and patted blindly around Tara until she grasped it in her own warm fingers. “Moi Tarinka.” She whispered back, “Mamas who love their babies very much get to live on the moon with the rabbit and see all of their secrets first hand. So I will never be so far that I can’t see you, maybe even–” Her sentence was interrupted by a cough that pulled Mama’s hand away from Tara’s grasp.

Tara rolled over and curled into her mother’s side. “It’s okay, mama. Let’s sleep now.”

***

Somebody was in her house.

Tara slid out of bed, keeping her center of gravity as stable as she could to bribe the springs into being quiet as she rose, and lifted her gun from her nightstand with only the smallest whisper of metal on wood.

She padded out into the hallway, weaving from the center to the edges and minding the scraps of broken moonlight that peeked though curtains and bounced around corners, determined to see everything the world tried to keep hidden. Even soldiers wouldn't risk going out in that light tonight. They had plenty of their own secrets to keep.

Tara paused to listen around the corner from the kitchen and heard it again-- a bowl or plate or something clinking against something hard. Her china wasn't real, but she'd bring down anyone who tried to take it on principle.

Tara let out one steadying breath before pivoting around the corner, her gun aimed for the general height of an adult. She expected a looter, or even one of the more skilled pickpockets in the area, though she was sure her locks were difficult to trick.

"Dro--" Tara's warning died in her throat. There were no adults in the kitchen at all, only a child who wore more holes than shoes on her feet and a blanket of dirt for company.

The child looked up at her, first in alarm at being caught and then with the tear-filled fear of looking down the barrel of a gun. Tara flipped the safety back on and put the gun on top of the high cabinets closest to her. She had not been as quick as her mother. The girl already had berry stains around her mouth and even had the confidence to start drinking directly from a container of milk that once sat in Tara's fridge.

"I'm sorry." The girl whispered, choosing to be the first to break the silence between them as her gaze flitted from Tara to the cat door that must have been her access point.

Tara sighed and held her hand out for the carton of milk. The child returned it and let out a small gasp when Tara promptly turned and dropped the whole thing in the trash can. "It was bad. I was going to the market tomorrow. Do you like juice?"

The girl nodded, and Tara opened the fridge door and poured two glasses of juice. The girl's small hands shook less as she took one of the glasses for herself and Tara's eyes followed the bright light streaming into the kitchen to the moon outside.

"Do you see the moon? How there is the shape of a rabbit on it?"

The girl nodded.

"Never do your thieving when the rabbit can see you, devuchka. Even the moon won't keep your secrets."

The child gulped her first sip of juice down hard and sucked in her lip to chew on it. Tara drained her own glass and set it in the sink.

"But I will, on a night as cold as this. There is a blanket on the couch and a tub in the bathroom, there," Tara jerked her head to nod at the door opposite the hall from the kitchen. "And if you help me pick more berries for my pie tomorrow I will get you new shoes."

She looked at the girl and then at the cat door. "Or, you go back in the snow and hope Russia points you to a second chance to stay warm somewhere."

Tara reached up to retrieve her gun and went back to her room to store it properly, now that there was a kid in the house. She stood still at her nightstand, wondering what she would choose, and smiled when she heard the water from the tub turn on. She padded over to her window and nudged the curtain aside to find the moon again. From here, the light was fractured by a large tree that shaded her room from the sun in the summer. But she could still see the rabbit, mostly. Enough of it. Enough of her.

"Mama. Thank you for showing her to me before--" Tara's throat closed around her words. It didn't matter. The rabbit would tell her what Tara meant. Some secrets weren't meant to be kept.