The hare liked nothing more than to hunker down in the underbrush and think her thoughts, safe in a subtle hollow. She would get so lost in reverie the slightest disturbance sent her running for her life. And when she ran she was the fastest creature in the forest, everyone who saw her agreed, everyone except for the tortoise, who was not impressed.

“What use is all that speed,” he said. “If you don’t go directly from A to B?”
The hare sensed the criticism, but couldn’t help wondering where B might be located and what could be wrong with C or D, for example. Before she could finish her musing, the fox had stepped in to defend her.
“She’ll go from A to B and back again before your stumpy little legs carry you halfway,” he boasted.
“You are sorely mistaken,” the tortoise responded calmly.
“You are painfully slow,” the fox shot back.
“I may be slow, but I always get where I am going,” replied the tortoise.
“Bravo,” said the fox. “Good for you.”
“At the end of this path is a meadow full of dandelions and clover,” the tortoise continued unperturbed. “I’m on my way there now. Let us see which of us gets there first.”

The tortoise promptly set off down the path and the fox turned to the hare, expecting her to follow.
“Go on, then,” he urged.
“You want me to… run?”
“Yes! You heard him. Show him what you can do!”

The hare soon caught the tortoise and quickly left him behind, but the moment he was out of sight, she began to lose interest in the race. She hadn’t been startled from her hollow. She wasn’t running for her life. She had no reason to keep going. Her pace slackened. She hoped off the path and disappeared into the underbrush where she found a nice spot to hunker down and think.

“Where am I now?” she wondered. “What letter of the alphabet might this be?”

 Richard Parkin, 2024