A bunny! I want a 
I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of this story before, but here’s it goes.
I’m gonna post part 1 today, will continue tomorrow with the rest.
Once upon a time, there was a land called Rabbitia. It was a land painted with green, amber and brown hills, rich with grass, fat with nectar and honey. Purple hyacinths and yellow daffodils, pearly white lily-of-the-valleys and snow-colored daisies with violets and snowdrops, mixing all in a spring scented perfume. It spanned far and wide, or at least, far and wide from the perspective of citizens of Rabbitia, which is to say, not that far and wide, for most of creatures of Rabbitia were small and furry. Bipedal, mind you, they don’t like being confused with ordinary rabbits, thank you very much. They are called Furries.
Furries have been living, prospering and enriching Rabbitia since everyone can remember! A long period considering most of Furries don’t really have a great memory, except for the recipe for the best mead, gloried across the whole continent. There’s a legend about one Furry who had pink highlights in his fur, who has made such a mead, so gloriously delicious, that it made a princess with the most captivating lilac eyes fall in love with him! Evil tongues would say she was drunk on mead, but us, more romantic ones, would say she was drunk on love, but this is not the time to tell that story.
Furries, as small as they are, have not been known as brave warriors, nor as elaborate thinkers, no. Even though there are stories about one valiant Furry who defeated their arch enemy, the Flying Squirrel, always clothed in green garbs, with a pink bow tie, to honor the memory of the mead-making Furry. Their strength lies in ties with mother Earth. In listening to the songs of underground tunnels, basking in the smell of freshly dug soil. Spending the days just minding the ways of greens on hills, chattering with trees and spending sunny days playing in the meadow. For all Furries share a love of things that grow.
Part 2 here: