Alan looked down at the dry, rugged terrain from the seat of his new flybike. There was still a lingering green from the spring rains and snow-melt, but summer had begun its work, leaving growing areas of browns and yellows. This was his first long distance outing on the magical transport, and it was everything he hoped for. He’d wanted to get one ever since Michaela had taken him on his first foray into the strange world of gathering wand-making components nearly a year ago.

It was a used flybike, not quite as fancy as the model Michaela had, but still sported many of the same features. Streamlined rear storage, standard cloaking, and of course the wind reduction enchantment to allow conversations to be heard at high speeds. The seat was a little smaller, not having the short back supports Michaela's bike had, but he didn't mind. It was pure freedom in flight and responded to his thoughts like part of his body. Still, Alan wondered if he'd been a little too eager to put it through its paces.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have asked Micha to come with us?" Alan asked his companion using thought. It wasn't exactly telepathy, more of a sharing of magical senses.

“Don’t be silly. We can’t ask Michaela to babysit every time we gather materials," Randall replied, using the same thought communication. This was by necessity, since Randall was a magic wand which didn’t have a mouth.

“She’ll be pissed if she finds out I let you talk me into going out alone." Alan had promised to take Michaela with them when gathering materials, and he usually did. Their first time out she’d saved his life more than once. Alan had done his part too, but he still had no intention of ever going into a griffin den.

“We’re not doing anything dangerous this run. It’ll be fine!" There it was; Randall’s big red flag. Every time he said things would ‘be fine’, they were anything but.

“You better be right this time.”

“What do you mean? I’m always right!”

Alan snorted derisively, but let the comment go. “You still haven’t explained exactly how we’re going to find them. I’m not even sure what to look for.”

“It’s all about the habitat. It’s no good looking for them directly, so we just have to lure them in. You did bring the whisky, didn't you?”

“Yes, you’ve only asked three times already. I still wish we could’ve used the rot-gut instead of this 20 year old rye." Alan thought using it for bait was a waste. He rarely had more than an occasional beer, but once in a great while, a glass of rye was his preferred spirit; neat.

“Jackalopes have a refined pallet, so we’ll have the best results with the best bait. Take us lower. We should be getting close.”

Alan slowed, descending the flybike to a few dozen feet over the drying landscape. Randall had explained jackalopes ranged a large area, but they preferred the rocky, open terrain along the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains. The southwest corner of Montana was close enough for a one day trip by flybike, and offered a good chance of finding the animals…or as mages called mana producing animals: manamals. Wyoming would have been better, but would have extended the trip another day.

“I think I see something." Alan had been following a small ley line using his sight mana sense, allowing him to see the faint glow of the natural mana concentration. “Looks like red streaks zig-zagging the area.”

Alan's mana sense exceeded most natural born mages. When his latent magical abilities awakened, the first senses to develop had been sound and touch, but he quickly developed his sense of mana sight. It was a necessary part of wand-craft, or so Randall had insisted. His senses now allowed him to hear and feel the general concentration of mana on the natural ley line, as well as spot the tell-tale red mana residue left my a magical creature below.

“That’s it! Set us down near the largest number or trails.”

“I still can’t believe jackalopes are real," Alan said as he settled to the ground. “I mean, I get things like dragons and griffins. They’ve been in stories for centuries. I can’t figure out HOW they ended up in mundane stories since mundanes can’t see them, but I guess they’ve just been around long enough to get written about somehow.”

“Ah, that would be because of people like you. Sometimes a latent is able to see manamals for what they are. Mundanes don’t believe them, of course. And mages pretend they don’t either, attempting to remain secret, but sightings certainly inspire the imagination of would-be storytellers. Written accounts do go back much farther in other parts of the world, but just because written accounts of jackalopes are fairly recent compared to those of dragons, doesn’t mean they weren’t here. There’s a lot of native folklore describing manamals indigenous to North America long before Europeans arrived to write about them." Randall easily slipped into lecture mode.

“I guess that’s true." Alan thought early settlers were more likely to shoot natives than write down their stories, but they surely would have written their own accounts of strange encounters. But now wasn’t the time to discuss the violent history of the country. “The mana traces are pretty faint.  I can’t tell how old they are. Micha’s a lot better at that kind of thing.”

“This will work fine. We can put out a dish of whisky and if there’s any in the area, they’ll show up soon enough.”

“On it." Alan pulled his bag from the rear storage compartment and rummaged around. He pulled a bowl out and placed it on the ground, and tipped the bottle of rye whisky over it, pouring in a decent amount. “Now what?”

“Now we get back on the flybike and hover for a while.”

“Why not just sit over behind that bush?”

“No good. Jackalopes have excellent hearing and can sense vibration. Hovering at a distance while cloaked is the best option during the day. If it was night time, they’d be more likely to approach, but they’re easier to see in daylight and they know it, so they'll stay hidden if they sense anyone nearby." Randall knew a lot about manamals, having gathered his own wand components for years. Unfortunately, he didn’t always explain everything ahead of time. Alan had no choice but to take Randall’s word, but it often put him in awkward situations with less information than Alan thought he should have.

Auto cloaking was required by law for flybikes, which were meant for travel over longer distances and more likely to be seen by the mundane population. Most models had an override to decloak, allowing mages to see it while landed in unpopulated areas or mage communities.  It was a serious offense to allow a mundane to see any form of magic; a fact that was drilled into Alan when he’d gotten his permit to own the flybike.

Alan stowed his pack and turned off the cloak override as he settled onto the seat before ascending. He stopped about 20 feet up and drifted farther away, but stayed close enough to keep an eye on the dish of whisky. Anticipating a waiting period, Alan thought he’d use the time to pry more information from ‘the professor’.

“Randall, I’m not sure I understand how manamals have stayed hidden for so long other than popping up in legends and fantasy stories. If they can interact with mundane things, why can't mundanes see them? Or at least believe latents when they say…I don’t know…a dragon set the city on fire, or something." Being able to communicate in thought was a real boon, and Alan was glad to be able to kill the time without making noise that might tip off their quarry.

“Well, you know most manamals stay in proximity to ley lines, even those that travel long distances. They’re also fairly uncommon," Randall started.

“Sure.”

“They can also sense anything that doesn’t have mana, especially mundanes." Randall continued. "Even if humans set up a town right in the middle of a ley line, their lack of mana makes them even more apparent. Even manamal predators instinctually steer clear of mundane people, since they’re not prey, and certainly not large groups of people. Even mage settlements tend to be avoided by most manamals. They simply have no interest in humans, and most consider humans a threat…and rightly so. Mages DO have a use for most manamals, and if nothing else, an interest in keeping them contained.”

“OK, but they still COULD start a fire in a mundane town or even attack a mundane out alone in the wild.”

“True, and it has happened; it does happen on rare occasions, though not by dragons. No dragon will approach a populated area, they just don’t. But mundanes can’t see mana and will go to great lengths to ignore or explain away things they don’t understand. It’s much more likely a lightning strike started a fire in the woods and no sane mundane is going to claim it was a dragon. And a mundane being attacked by other manamals will blame a bear or cougar, or even a dog, because that’s what their mind will fabricate to explain what happened...if they survive. Even if they are a latent and DO see what’s really there, they can’t believe it or don’t think anyone else will. The rare few that claim to have seen some strange beast are simply accused of being mistaken or just looney.”

Alan mulled over Randall's explanation. He understood mundanes couldn’t see mana, but they could see the effects. Alan’s awakening had started with sound, but he’d since learned to see and feel mana as well. He often used his mana sense more than most mages because it was still a new way of seeing the world to him. Most mages learn to use their mana sense from a young age and it becomes second nature, so they typically only use it when needed for specific tasks. Alan often used his senses during everyday tasks, even just on trips to the store or a walk around town, always looking for more magical insight and experiences.

“I guess," Alan finally conceded. “I suppose before modern communication, stories traveled slow anyway. And people were a lot more superstitious, so even if they did believe in such things, they probably just hoped to never run into them. Dragons burning a town to ash or sea monsters dwelling at the edge of the world made good scapegoats for poor city planning and the unknown vastness of the oceans.”

“Precisly! Manamals have been blamed for all sorts of natural disasters, missing people, or sea vessels that never return. Most of the time it’s nonsense. Once in a great while a predator might get a taste for livestock in rural areas, but in current times, it’s blamed on wolves or the like.”

“Or aliens," Alan laughed.

“Aliens…Bagh! I swear, mundane folks progress in knowledge at breakneck speed and still manage to come up with wild fabrications to explain away magic. I suppose mages should be thankful.”

Alan sat up straight and cocked his head. “I think I hear something.”

He refocused his mana sense trying to better make out the faint tune that had caught his attention. It sounded something like a guitar. More of an acoustic tone with a tune akin to a mariachi, full of energy and melodic. Alan started scanning the area, looking for where the tune might be coming from and saw a glowing red streak shoot across an open space between a rocky outcrop and a nearby bush. After a few seconds, the same streak moved from the bush to another pile of brush. It was moving too fast to see what was making the strange mana trails.

“I think we got lucky." Randall whispered.

Alan knew it was pointless to whisper using thought communication, but it was nearly impossible to overcome the urge to do so while having a ‘stealthy’ mindset. “So what do we do then…try to stun it or something?”

“Stun it? Don’t be silly. We sit here quietly and wait. Just watch and learn, my young apprentice.”

Alan sometimes wished he’d never introduced Randall to the world of mundane science fiction and fantasy. For the most part, Alan was glad to have something entertaining to share that allowed them to take some down time from their work. But Randall was starting to use movie and TV references the same way Alan had always done. Alan was certainly not young, even if he was an apprentice. But Randall had even called him his 'Padawan' a few times, which Alan found annoying. He thought he might start being more selective in what Randall watched.

The red streak shot closer to the bowl of whisky, disappearing behind a small bush just a few feet away. Alan was close enough to see some of the bushes' branches moving independently, slowly rotating from side to side. They weren’t branches, he realized, they were antlers. There was a matched set with two prongs on each moving back and forth, indicating a head that must be looking around from behind the bush. Then he heard what sounded like someone laughing.

“What the hell is that?" He asked.

“That’s our quarry. It’s trying to see if it can lure out any potential threat before it takes the bait.”

“Seriously? Sounds like it’s laughing to me.”

“Jackalopes can mimic sounds, even some simple human ones. It’s a great tactic to disarm potential threats. Think about it, if you’re out camping or hiking and hear a growl, you freeze and get quiet while you try to find what made the sound. But if you hear someone laughing, you're more likely to call out and give away your position…maybe even move to investigate." Randall explained.

Alan was about to comment on how brilliant the behavior was, however strange, when the antlers started moving out from behind the bush. He watched in silence, unable to speak as the largest rabbit shaped body he’d ever seen emerged. He almost couldn’t believe it. It was about as big as a medium sized dog, maybe as big as a golden retriever, and looked just like the legends had described. So far in his encounters with manamals, legendary descriptions were only about 50% accurate on physical attributes and far less with abilities. A Jackalope, though, looked just like an oversized jackrabbit with antlers. Its neutral brown coloring perfectly blended in with the environment when standing still, and it moved so fast, it was almost impossible to see otherwise.

The Jackalope paused and swiveled its head once more to make sure there was nothing else around, then proceeded almost casually to the bowl of whisky. Alan could swear it swaggered, if that was possible for an animal. It bent down to the bowl and sniffed, before raising up on its hind legs, throwing its head back, and letting out another belly laugh. This time the laughing sound was much deeper, sounding almost sincere in celebration of its good fortune.

As it lowered its head and started to drink the fine  rye, Alan started to ask how long it would be before they needed to act, but there was suddenly another call from not far off.

“Heeey you! Hey! Heeeey you!”

The Jackalope stopped its indulgence and looked up. Alan whipped his eyes toward where he thought the sound came from.

“You gotta be kidding me. There can’t be anyone else out here.”

“No! It’s another Jackalope! We couldn’t have been more lucky! This is going to be something to remember so just watch." Randall’s excitement was evident.

The first Jackalope threw its head back and returned the call, turning to the sound of the approaching voice. “Heeey you!”

“Hey! Hey you!" the newcomer called before streaking in from another pile of rock not far to the left.

The two Jackalopes faced each other a few feet apart, and standing on their hind legs, they continued to yell “Heeey you!" back and forth. Then they started to circle one another, pausing to stand up on their hind legs and doing some odd type of shimmy. Alan thought the dance looked like a ridiculous type of hula competition, and found the absurd scene difficult to not break out in laughter over. No wonder mundanes didn’t believe in such things. Alan was watching it and he didn’t think even mages would believe the ludicrous behavior he was witnessing.

“Is this some type of display of dominance or something? I mean are they gonna start charging and locking horns?" Alan had seen animal documentaries with deer and other animals butting heads to fight for mating or territory rights.

“No, no, no. They’re just getting acquainted. You’ll see.”

Finally the newcomer stopped his dance and threw back his head with his own deep belly laugh, before moving to the bowl and taking a drink. The first Jackalope followed with his own laugh and approached the bowl, apparently waiting his turn as he’d already had a few sips. Before long the two critters were alternating turns at the bowl of whisky, each taking a few sips before backing up and laughing to allow the other to drink. The laughing calls grew longer and more frequent as they drained the bowl, their movements starting to become obviously impaired. One jackalope fell over while laughing, but still crawled back to the bowl for more when the other stopped drinking to laugh as well. Alan pictured two cowboys doing shots in a saloon.

After a while, one of the Jackalopes fell over and didn’t make a move to the bowl. The one still standing swayed as it called out, “Heeeey you!”. When its downed drinking buddy didn’t respond, it laughed once again and went back to imbibing before it too fell over, passed out.

“Now we go!”

Alan was so entranced by the whole performance, he didn’t respond right away. “What? Oh, yeah.”

He took the flybike down to settle near the two incapacitated jackalopes and switched off the cloak.

“It’s OK to decloak, right?" Alan asked after the fact.

“Yes, yes. They’ll be out for a couple of hours. Just get the clippers and the plastic bags.”

Alan dismounted and pulled his backpack from the rear storage compartment. He’d loaded it with the usual gear they took out on previous trips, though he doubted they would need most of it. Since this was a day trip for a single item, he could have packed lighter, but figured there was no need to leave the rest behind. He’d just have to repack it later, and besides, there was no way to know what else they might need if opportunity presented itself.

Alan dug in the pack and retrieved a rechargeable beard trimmer. “I hope these work. I’m glad I kept it charged even though I never use it anymore.”

“It’ll be fine. Just roll them over on their back and shave their stomachs.”

“You’re sure this doesn’t hurt them?" Alan asked as he walked over to the downed jackalopes.

“Not in the least. In another few weeks they would have shed most of it anyway. Just remember it’s only the belly we need. It should work just like angora rabbit fur, so we’ll be able to spin it into thin thread to fit in the wands.”

“I really wish we could go ahead and make the infuser. Spinning fairy fluff is tedious and I expect this will be just as bad." Even with the drop spindle Alan had made, the task of spinning some of the magical components in thread suitable for setting into wands as a lens had become boring.

“All in good time young padawan. You need to master the traditional methods before we begin experimenting with dangerous devices." Randall had explained this before, and his use of ‘padawan’ only irked Alan further.

“Fine, just please stop calling me that.”

Randall only chuckled as Alan bent down and began shaving the jackalope’s belly. The beard trimmer worked better than expected. Alan thought the fine hairs would present a problem, but it turned out to not be the case. After only a few minutes, he stuffed a large, plastic zipper bag full of ‘jackalope wool’ and moved over to the second manamal. As he spread the hind legs and shaved around its ‘nether regions’, Alan suddenly felt like he was engaging in a fraternity hazing prank on drunken frat brothers. He hoped Randall was right and the jackalopes wouldn’t mind. He would have.

Alan was thinking that everything had gone according to plan, for once, and was packing the last of the furry booty into a second bag. He shifted his weight, taking a small step with his left foot, and stepped on a stick causing it to crack loudly as part of it jabbed into his ankle. It must have had some small thorns that pierced through his bluejeans. Alan reached down to rub the minor wound as he stood and looked to see what kind of stick had thorns that could poke through denim.

“Fuck!" Alan screamed aloud as he dropped everything he was holding and jumped back.

He’d seen a jerky wriggle from under his foot and quickly started lifting his pant leg to check for a snake bite while still trying to back off further.

“What is it?" Randall asked in alarm.

“I think I’m snake bit." Alan said, sitting back on a rock and inspecting his leg.