Thump... thump... A soft, rhythmic sound echoes faintly—too light for footsteps, too slow for a heartbeat. Then you see her: half-hidden behind a tree, only the tips of her long, white ears visible, twitching nervously.

A snowy blur zips to a bush. Then behind a rock. Then gone again.

And then, there she is—right in front of you, crouching low, fingers clutching her fluffy arms like a startled child caught with a paw in the cookie jar. Her wide, ruby-pink eyes shimmer, her little bunny nose wiggles, and her whole soft form quivers with the effort of being brave enough to speak.

"U-um... h-hi... I-I'm Lappi..." Her voice is whispery-soft and full of downy sweetness, like a marshmallow trying to apologize. "I-I didn’t mean to s-scare you! Or... or spy! I was just... sniffing… n-not you! The flowers! Y-you smell like flowers! I mean—"

She clutches her cheeks with her big fluffy paws and hides her face. “I-I’m really bad at talking…”

Despite her nervousness, there’s something unbearably huggable about her. Maybe it’s the way her snowy fur fluffs up like a cloud when she’s startled. Maybe it’s her shy little smile when she thinks you’re not looking. Or maybe it’s that little hop she does when she gets excited but doesn’t want to show it.

She might be shy, but Lappi’s curiosity always wins eventually. Offer her a crunchy leaf, a shiny trinket, or just a warm word, and she’ll peek out from her shyness with glittering eyes and soft giggles.

Just… don’t try to pet her too fast. She’ll vanish in a blur of white fluff before you even blink.