An Easter Gift

The Easter bunny paused, hearing a rustle from the bed.

He quietly lolloped over to where the sound had come from. He did, sometimes, out of curiosity.

Bright moonlight streamed in through the open curtains and fell across the pillow and the face of a child, no more than five, with jet-black hair that glinted in the light. He stared at the symmetry of her face, her almond eyes, small nose and full, red, lips. She was one of the pretty ones.

He didn't often pry, but sometimes...just sometimes...

She was smart. Keen intelligence, inquiring mind. She could go far. He looked ahead, and what he saw made him tempted...just this once.

Why not? He wasn't supposed to interfere. These things happened all the time. But sometimes it was so hard. Even an immortal rabbit could be moved, sometimes.

He struggled with himself. It was none of his business. But then he looked back and saw the faintest smile on that pretty face, and made up his mind. He leaned over and brushed his whiskers across her brow. She squirmed as the change happened, frowning for a moment, then smiling again.

The bunny sighed internally, remembering again why he didn't do this often. It was never easy.

She wouldn't miss the intelligence he'd just wiped away. She could make do very nicely without it, and in situations like this intelligence could be a curse. If she knew, or if she understood, she'd thank him for it on her nineteenth birthday.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a special egg, the best, the one he only ever gave one to one child each year, and put it down gently on the pillow beside her sleeping head.