The grievous rabbit could not be called a predator. It is scared by almost everything, but incapable of rapid escape: so heavy is its fur, the creature does not lollop so much as drag itself from hole to hole. This also renders it incapable of subtle movement. Although timid, it loves affection, and is won over by the slightest prospect of human contact. It is exceptionally tasty.
The grievous rabbit ought to have been gobbled into extinction aeons ago. Its survival is owed entirely to its singular talent – to make itself resemble, precisely, whichever living thing its observer most dreads.