Ch.1
"Ivy, Blackbur, and Fuya"
Night draped itself over the vast down like a shawl, embracing the trees and grass, making the shadows in the rabbit holes on the beech hanger dance as long legged, long-eared creatures flitted in and out of them. Down below, new life was stirring in the belly of a dappled chestnut doe. Gentle souls were whispering the stale burrow air, marking the arrival of their bodies. The doe grunted, and a kit slid onto the grass and fur strewn floor. Panting slightly, she strained again after severing the thing cord connecting the young female kit from her mother. A second kit slipped out of the warm, safe womb and out into the cold, elil strewn world. Twice more the mother strained herself and twice more rabbit kittens found their way into the world. So quiet was this compared to that of other birth makings, the mother panting softly and the kits squeaking gently for life-giving milk. Up above the new moon was rising, and a mist settled over the ground as a messenger sent to check on the doe spread the word. Even the wind twirling about his ears seemed to listen with bated breath and he whispered, "Earth's had her kits. Four kits, newborn, in Earth's burrow. New life has come again..."
The kestrel peered down on the land with his sharp eyes. Normally he avoided this place, this place where the gull used to live. But he was only flying here because of the gathering of rabbits. So many of them were clustered in one spot, he was rather bemused. As he veered southward over the dawn's light splashed trees, he wondered why it was.
Down below none were in question as to why they were gathered. Earth, a well liked doe in the warren, had brought up her kittens. Three had survived to this stage in life, two does and a buck. The oldest doe was a splashed chestnut color, like her mother. She was in two minds about the crowd. She would stretch her velvety pink nose out just so far, but would then retract it back instantly, sheltering behind her mothers powerful hind legs.. The second kitten, also a doe, was the color of the new moon, of snowdrifts and the sticks the men burn in their mouths. She had not another color hair on her. Many of the rabbits were staring and whispering behind theirs paws. They pulled back when she hopped towards them. Her eyes were like that of the legendary Seer Fiver, huge and liquid but cold and deep. They seemed to pull the rabbits in, and their fear rose in a cloud about them. The last kitten, a sleek black buck, was just sitting there serenely, not moving a muscle. The reason Earths kittens were so in demand was because her bloodlines were crisscrossed so many times. Legends such as Bigwig and Blackavar were in her blood, Clover was in there somewhere, and the great-grandson of Captain Campion was the proud buck that sired the kittens.
"Shift aside there, that's a chap..." All the rabbits on the crowded down instantly sat up on their haunches, respecting the chief rabbit, Blowhard. The seasoned old buck gazed at the kittens. The scars on his nose stretched slightly as his he sniffed the kittens, which were now alone. It was customary for even the mother to step back while the chief inspected her children. "Earth," he growled in his deep tones "come forward and tell me the names of these kittens."
"Well, sir," Earth began in her delicate but strong voice, "the chestnut doe is Ivy. See how her eyes are emerald green?" The crowd in general nodded and glanced as one to the doe's bright, pretty green eyes. Earth cleared her throat and began again. She gestured towards the buck. "This, sir, is Blackbur. I thought the name went well with his fur. And the last kitten..." Her eyes strayed to the white kitten, who was now gazing curiously back at her. "The last doe's name is Fuya-thlay." (Fuya-thlay means Snow-fur, or fur the color of snow. Fuya obviously means snow.) A murmur of assent shifted and eased between the still bodies of the rabbits. The kittens now had names, words that would now flash a bright picture of the kitten when said. The rabbits slowly dispersed, moving off to silflay, doze in their burrows, or simply bask in the sunlight now creeping along the down. As he and the Captain of Owsla descended into the honeycomb, the Blowhard distinctly said, "Keep an eye on Fuya-thlay, Cleave, keep an eye on her."
"Yes, sir." The Captain answered, dipping his pointed head and slipping into his own roomy burrow. The tiny white kitten and her mother, however, were unaware of this. All, however, were unaware that the webs of fate and destiny of them all were spinning themselves around the body of this snow- white doe. And perhaps sooner, perhaps later, but the doe and her closest allies would learn that one wrong move made by them would snap the frail threads that kept life itself flowing so freely over the downs.