Whitetail hissed in pain from that impact. It was obvious that he had already lost the element of surprise and without it he was just endangering his own life by staying and fighting. Therefore, he took the best course of action: he run away. He run until he felt he was a safe distance away from rabbits. Then he stopped to rest and inspect his injuries. They weren't serious, but they were bleeding and the scent of blood could always bring some other predator, so Whitetail started licking his wounds to stop blood flowing. At the same time he was thinking about his fight with rabbits. He had managed to bite one of them in a paw, so it should slow them all, but he realized that if they won't leave that one behind, it will be very hard to hunt him down. Just two of these rabbits was enough to drive him off and now they will be extra alert. It would take all Whitetail's cleverness and skill at hunting to kill one of this grass-eating hopping-about long-eared creatures. It will be very difficult, but in the end it will be worthy of all the efforts. He remembered the time when he last had the taste of rabbit's meat: it was a long time ago, when he was a youngster. One day, mother brought the struggling Longear to den, so he Whitetail and his siblings could accustom to it's scent. Then she ripped it's throat, ending it's struggle, and letting her children eat it. What a feast that was! - Whitetail thought dreamily, then sighed. It will be very hard for him to catch one of them only by himself...
For the first time in his rather long life Whitetail wished there was some other weasel with him, who could help him in this hunting.
Pessimist sees a dark tunnel. Optimist sees a light in the tunnel. Realist sees the light of coming train. And a driver sees three idiots standing on the track.
"My heart has joined the thousand, for my friend stopped running today." - Watership Down by Richard Adams.