The Wabbit thrust his paws far into his coat and hunched
into a school doorway. The night air had become chilly and the Wabbit wished
for summer, but the more he wished, the sharper the cold became. "Brrr," thought the Wabbit. He was reminded of
his school days, when his only responsibility was to learn stuff from books and repeat it to the satisfaction of his stern masters. The Wabbit and school had never easily
coexisted. He would periodically absent himself and hide in the local
library to read about existentialism. In consequence, the Wabbit was apt to
think far too hard for far too long. "What am I going to do about Unut’s offer?" he thought. “And what about my alliance with Duetta and the Red Spiders?" The Wabbit
thought hard for a while. "I need to take advice," he thought. The Wabbit
didn't like asking for advice and liked taking it even less. But suddenly the
Wabbit smiled. "I’ll call a Council of War," he thought. "Everyone will contribute. I will throw in my own ideas and get them back. Everyone will think they’re giving me advice." Then the
Wabbit realised he had no ideas. He had reached an impasse. "I don’t need a Council
of War," grinned the Wabbit. "I need a collaborator ..." and he grinned with his
28 teeth and hopped back into the shadows.
