Take my does and flee to the countryside, will he? Well, I'll take care of him for sure, I will! General Woundwort smashed his paw into the blockage, crumbling it at last. The tunnel was now clear to enter. He snarled with approval, shoving his soldiers aside.
"Bigwig!" He called, charging down into the tunnel. The darkness was almost engulfing, but his eyes adjusted quickly and his whiskers took care of the rest. He sniffed the still air and hopped down a row.
Suddenly, another rabbit came thumping out of a hole. "General!" He shouted.
Unafraid, Woundwort glared at the rabbit, not recognizing him at first. But then he beheld the torn ears, the bald patches of skin, and knew it to be Blackavar.
Baring his teeth, Blackavar lunged for the General's throat, but Woundwort beat him down with his claws. Pinned to the ground, Blackavar could only squeeze shut his eyes as he was torn to shreds. Woundwort finished him off with a quick snap to the throat, gouging open the poor rabbit's windpipe.
Woundwort breathed heavily through his blood-coated mouth. His paws dripped with the blood of his enemy, and the blood marred the earth in dark, rusty patches. Sniffing, he straightened up as best as he could in such a narrow tunnel and continued following his nose to Bigwig's scent.
He reached a fork in the road, so to speak, when he came to three different tunnels, each one filled with mounds of dirt. He snorted angrily, unsure of which way to go. But then a fat little rabbit stuck his head out, looking around.
Foolish recruits! The General thought, jumping at the rabbit. But he scampered back into the dirt, so the General clawed it away and pursued him. Running away down the tunnel, the little rabbit's heart beat so loudly that the General could feel it in his paws. He hurried after the rabbit, eagar for his blood.
As he rounded a corner, he was pleased to discover his does were all there. But why would they be left alone with such an incompetent youngling as their guard? Something wasn't right. A patch of soil at his feet appeared much softer than anywhere else...
Bigwig threw himself out of the earth, teeth gnashing for General Woundwort's throat. But, despite the surprise, the General was prepared. He beat Bigwig away and they began to claw each other in the face and neck. Seconds felt like hours as the two rabbits kicked, scratched and bit until they were both left bleeding, panting, and foaming at the mouth.
The General leaned back to take a breath while Bigwig remained crouched, ready to spring on him if need be.
"I told you once I was trying to impress you," Bigwig spat. "I hope I have."
"And I told you," Woundwort gasped. "That I would kill you myself! There's no white big here, Bigwig." He reminded him gloatingly. Then again, he attacked.
Success! His heart lept with pride, for he was on top of Bigwig with his teeth wrenching the soft fur at his throat. I'm going to kill you, now! He thought, unable to say it because of what he was doing.
But Bigwig wriggled away and, being the trickster that he was, kicked dirt into Woundwort's eyes. That made the General angry. He stalked after Bigwig, who backed up into the tunnel, protecting the does and the other male rabbit.
"Why throw your life away?" The General demanded.
"Hraka, sir," Bigwig retorted.
"Come out!" He growled.
"My chief told me to defend this run," Bigwig replied stubbornly.
"Your... chief?" Woundwort was puzzled. Surely there could be no other rabbit more powerful that Bigwig! But then his ears picked up the sound of his soldiers crying in distress, mixed with the booming roar of a barking dog.
Woundwort turned and raced out of the burrow. He poked his head up in time to see his few remaining soldiers fleeing their posts.
"Come back!" He ordered, leaping out into the open. "Come back, you fools! Come back!" He hopped out further, furious that they were not listening to him. "Come back and fight! Dogs aren't dangerous!"
His ear twitched and Woundwort turned around.
The dog came out from behind the tree, holding a dead rabbit in its jaws. Its eyes widened with devilish delight upon seeing Woundwort, and it dropped the rabbit to the dirt. Growling, its blood-soaked tongue lolling from its frothy mouth, the dog charged at Woundwort.
And Woundwort charged at the dog, determined to be true to his word by proving that dogs were not dangerous. Could such a thing be accomplished by a common yard rabbit? One tends to wonder if he was indeed the first to slay the beast, or if he was simply one of many who choked on their words and died.