Notes: This story takes place after Tales from Watership Down. I don't own anything created by Richard Adams. Only my own characters. I would also like to credit Loganberry for letting me use his wonderful extension of Lapine for this story. You can find it on his site Bits 'n' Bob-stones.
The clouds were rolling thick and white through the darkening sky. At the gray edges, they suddenly shifted shades into brilliant pinks and oranges, reflecting the light that burst from the setting sun. As the fire in the heavens sunk further into the horizon, the downs slashed long shadows across their valleys and their hills caught the last of the gifts Frith was sending; thin strips of gold shown lining the highest parts of the earth.
It also framed the tall ears of the rabbits grazing near their warren. Warming themselves in the last of the day's light, they silflayed peacefully within the cooling, evening air. Though it was a little ways off from the first of winter's frost, they could tell by now that the seasons were changing. The wind was blowing harder; there was a sharper, colder scent in the atmosphere; the leaves in the beech hanger were brown and started to litter the ground. All around were the signs that autumn was upon them. But the thought that harder times were in their future didn't really seem to bother them. It was natural this change of seasons. It had been so long since the Watership Down rabbits experienced anything natural.
Close to Kehaar's run, two rabbits were slowly making their way across the greens yet to be eaten. They used their twitching noses to push aside the autumn debris to get to their food, at least to the blades of grass that have not started to turn brown and prickly. The smaller of the two suddenly stood up and looked about, turning his ears this way and that as rabbits do. The buck stayed like that for a few moments, checking his surroundings before he found it was suitable enough to sit back on his haunches and start cleaning his ears.
The second rabbit, a doe, changed her direction and moved closer to her mate before lifting her head and looking at him.
"Feeling a bit tired, Fiver?" she asked. The other stopped for a second and looked back at her rather distantly.
"A little." He said. "But lets not go down to the Honeycomb yet, Vilthuril. I'd like to watch Frith leave this world before story time."
"I thought you might." She drew close and buried her nose into his fur, nuzzling him under his chin. He reciprocated, leaning into her affection and licking the top of her head a couple times.
This simple display of devotion was brief as they soon went back to grazing, however it meant much more than many romantic gestures by man. They were one of the few constant couples of the warren. Even the great Hazel had obtained another mate as did Hyzenthlay, though both were still equal in the duties of Chief Rabbit.
Fiver and Vilthuril never wanted to leave each other; they had found all that they were looking for.
After a time, when the sun was nearly gone and all but a few rabbits were still silflaying, the small seer reared up and sniffed the air. He stayed that way, again twitching his ears around but this time it was not for a simple matter of deciding to lick his paws.
"Do you smell that?" he said quietly. "There's something on the wind."
Vilthuril looked up curiously, then sat in the same position as Fiver and took a whiff.
"What does it smell like?" she asked, knowing full well not to admit that she did not smell anything.
"It smells… well, I can't really smell it. But it's there. Something… something I can't quite grasp yet. But its there, I know it is. It's just beyond my nostrils as if the scent does not want to enter." He was up to his full height, straining to try to get his nose higher into the wind.
Vilthuril stuck out her nose again to try to help her mate find this mystery smell. She took several deep breaths, letting the air of the Down fill her lungs and her mind. She could smell all those scents from the Nuthanger Farm, the scent of the grass and the unnatural iron of the pylon; the rotting leaves surrounding her and the pleasant smell of the warm, heavy rabbits underground. But nothing seemed out of place. There was nothing unusual to be sensed.
All of a sudden the peace of broken. A shrieking squeal broke from Fiver as if he was just struck by a paw from the Thousand.
"Oh, Great Frith!" he cried as he tumbled backward and landed hard on his spine. He turned onto his side, writhing and whimpering, holding his nose with his paws as if he was trying not to breath. With a last violent tremor he stopped moving, lying limp on the grass with his eyes closed, unconscious.
At the terrifying scream the few rabbits still above ground jumped and ran into their holes. Vilthuril fought the urge to bolt and just stood stupefied and tharn at the sudden change in Fiver's mood. But she soon recovered as her buck was lying still and quickly hopped to his aid.
"Hrair-roo? Hrair-roo! Wake up!" She pushed her nose against his shoulders and tried in vain to rouse him. "Frith and Inlè, please Fiver! Wake!" She was now pushing him hard with her paws but to no avail. She could not tell if he was breathing for there was a breeze that evening and she could not feel air from his nose.
Panic twirled inside of her mind and pressed against her chest. The world had gone to pieces in just a half a second and there was nothing she or anyone could do. She knew that Fiver did not only belong to this world and sometime odd things would happen to him. But the logical thoughts in her mind were crushed at the sight of her poor, faithful mate. She didn't even realize that there were now several concerned rabbits surrounding her, all fearful and confused. Vilthuril could only think of how Fiver had never gotten to see the last of Frith disappear behind the hills.