Right, said Fat Charlie conversationally. You realize, of course, that this means war. It was the traditional war cry of a rabbit when pushed too far.
He told me not to seek revenge, but to seek the Buddha,’ said the fox spirit, sadly.
‘Wise counsel,’ said the fox of dreams. ‘Vegeance can be a road that has no ending. You would be wise to avoid it. And…?’
‘I shall seek the Buddha,’ said the fox, with a toss of her head. ‘But first I shall seek revenge.
Coraline opened the box of chocolates. The dog looked at them longingly.
Would you like one? she asked the little dog.
Yes, please, whispered the dog. Only not toffee ones. They make me drool.
I thought chocolates weren’t very good for dogs, she said, remembering something Miss Forcible had once told her.
Maybe where you come from, whispered the little dog. Here, it’s all we eat.
It occurs to me that the peculiarity of most things we think of as fragile is how tough they truly are. There were tricks we did with eggs, as children, to show how they were, in reality, tiny load-bearing marble halls; while the beat of the wings of a butterfly in the right place, we are told, can create a hurricane across an ocean. Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way. Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkable difficult to kill.