Warnings: Death of a minor character.

Marli-roo would mean 'little doe', I'm using it to mean something like sweetheart.

There's a character list at the end, if anybody wants it.

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Four rabbits entered a suburban garden with varying levels of caution. Larkspur, tough owsla veteran though he was, entered the place with a skip and the air of a rabbit intent on mischief. The other three were yearlings he had decided to take out for a jaunt and find out what they were made of. Nettle, one of his own kits, was nervous but enjoying herself all the same. Furgold had a poise beyond anything a yearling should have and seemed as calm here as in the fields by the warren. If anything was bothering him it was curiosity, he had never been in a garden before and was taking in sights, sounds and smells so fast his nose and ears were quivering.

Chestnut felt much the same, although far more wary about satisfying his curiosity. He was the largest of the three yearlings, but more timid than the others. The only reason he was more likely to make the owsla than Nettle was because she was a doe. When Larkspur invited him along he had been flattered, even if he didn't entirely like the older rabbit.

While Larkspur and Nettle tore into the home owner's lettuces, Furgold hopped down the middle of the flowerbeds for a good look around. Chestnut wanted to follow him, but opted to stay close to the hedge until he reached the shed. From inside came a strong smell of rabbit and he pushed his way nervously through the slightly open door. Across the shed floor was a box with a mesh front and from inside came the sound of frantic chewing.

Loping over and peering through the mesh Chestnut could see an undersized buck with the strangest fur he had ever seen, black and white in patches, and with ears drooping over his back as though they were too heavy to lift. He was chewing on the inside of the box and had managed a small hole already, although his mouth was bleeding from the splinters.

'Hello,' said Chestnut. The rabbit jumped and turned to face Chestnut, teeth bared and growling. It dawned on Chestnut with heartwrenching sympathy that he was the first rabbit the other had seen in a long while, maybe ever.

'I won't hurt you,' he said. 'My name's Chestnut.'

'Dapple.' The other rabbit's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't used it in so long he had almost forgotten how. He turned away and went back to chewing.

'Are you trying to get out?' asked Chestnut. It certainly seemed a reasonable desire, this close the box stank. Dapple didn't answer, perhaps it was a stupid question.

Chestnut went back to the door. 'Furgold!' he called. 'There's a rabbit in a box. He needs our help.'

That brought Furgold and soon they were examining the box all over while Dapple, apparently having more faith in his own teeth, kept chewing. Furgold leant up on the box, pushing at the front of it with his paws. 'It seems to be held in place by this piece of wood here,' he said, pawing at the catch. He tried to gnaw at it experimentally and it twisted under his mouth, knocking him onto his side but letting the front of the box swing open slightly. Dapple bolted from the box, kicking Furgold in the stomach as he went, but stopped in the shed door at the sight of open space.

'There's gratitude for you,' said Furgold, getting up and brushing his fur back into place.

Dapple looked back. 'Thank you,' he said flatly.

Stamping from outside made all three rabbits freeze, even Dapple had enough instinct to heed that. Chestnut went low to the ground, knowing there was no more cover available than they already had. Not knowing what they were hiding from made every moment stretch endlessly and he wasn't sure he could move if he wanted to. Furgold nudged him hard.

'Don't you dare go tharn,' he said.

Chestnut tried to gather himself, and had almost succeeded when a cat poked its head around the door. Dapple bolted away from it and it pounced after the motion, missing him but turning on Chestnut. He tried to run, but its paws closed over him.

Behind him he heard a hissing like an angry rat. Dapple dived over his prone form and sank his teeth hard into the cat's shoulder. It yowled and jerked its head up, which Furgold saw as a sign to dart in and box it hard on the nose. Cats don't care for prey which fights back, and with another yowl it fled.

*

'You can't want to take him back with us,' said Larkspur. 'He stinks worse than a homba.'

'He saved my life,' said Chestnut. 'And its not his fault he didn't have anyone to groom him. Shouldn't he get the same chance as any other hlessi?'

Dapple was ignoring the conversation in favour of nibbling his way around the vegetable patch. Chestnut wondered if he understood that his future was hanging in the balance. A small, poorly camouflaged buck who had spent his life in a box had little chance of surviving outside of a warren.

'I've never seen a rabbit go for a cat with its teeth before,' said Furgold. 'I'd say he's worth keeping an eye on.'

'What about you, marli-roo?' asked Larkspur looking at Nettle.

She flicked her ears, looking at Dapple with distaste, but said, 'Chestnut's right. He's a rabbit, and we ought to act decently by giving him a chance.'

'Good of you,' said Dapple dryly without looking at them. Chestnut felt a mixture of irritation and guilt. Dapple was making no effort to win over people his future depended on, but they weren't being kind to him either.

'I'll be glad to have you as part of the warren,' he said, even if he wasn't quite sure it was true. Dapple smelt of trouble as much as he smelt of dirty ungroomed rabbit.

*

The owsla's reaction was much the same, dividing between giving him a chance and not inviting trouble, and Dapple showed the same lack of concern he had in the garden. Then Yew spoke up. Yew was a big rabbit, almost the size of a hare, but, passive to the point of being a pushover, he wasn't on the owsla for any military reasons. He had a way of making calm statements about the future, so many of which had come true that Basil-rah took his advice seriously.

'He'll cause trouble,' said Yew. 'But we'll be glad of him in the end.'

That decided the owsla in his favour, and they broke up to return to silflay. Larkspur loped over to where Nettle was being interrogated by her mother, Tansy. When the questioning was turned on him Nettle took the opportunity to leave and came over to graze beside Chestnut.

'I'll be glad when she has her next litter,' said Nettle. 'She's so determined for me to be in the owsla my every move has to be perfect.'

'If you have to be perfect to be in the owsla, I have no chance,' said Chestnut. He kept half an eye on Dapple, who was standing up to look around every couple of bites, clearly unnerved by the amount of space. His ears stayed down even when he stood up, Chestnut was now pretty sure they were paralysed.

'But I'm a doe,' said Nettle.

'So's Briar,' said Chestnut. 'You won't be the first doe in the owsla.'

'No. I'll be the second.'

A thumped warning from a sentry sent them all racing for cover, except Dapple who just crouched in the grass as if there wasn't a burrow within six feet of them. Chestnut poked his head back out and called, 'Dapple! Down here!' That got his attention and soon all three of them were underground.

*

If Dapple was going to be an asset to the warren, thought Chestnut three days later, he was taking his time about it. He resisted all attempts to groom him after the first. Although, to be fair, Chestnut had ripped out some of his fur. It was so matted that that was the only way he was ever likely to be clean again. He had no concept of play and a friendly cuff was met with snarling aggression. His instincts were so blunted that Chestnut had to tell him not to pass hraka underground.

He did have some good points, though. When he wasn't angry or on edge he could be an interesting rabbit to talk to and had a dry sense of humour Chestnut found rather engaging. He also had a distinct knack for finding cowslips and was generous with the results. The main problem was that Dapple only showed that side of himself around Chestnut. As far as the rest of the warren was concerned he was an angry, aggressive mess likely to sink his teeth into anyone who approached him.

While he thought Chestnut was half listening to Thistledown telling a story. Sometimes Thistledown told stories about his fellow owsla members, like the time Briar had drawn off a fox, but tonight he was telling the first story of them all.

'But to the fox and the weasel Frith gave sharp teeth and an appetite for rabbits,' he was saying. Around him were rabbits lazing in the heat of a fine spring evening, summer was making an early start of it that year. Even Dapple was on the edge of the gathering and Chestnut had never known anyone so anxious about being surrounded by other rabbits. Nettle was close to the centre, cuddled up against Yew. Chestnut had hoped to have a chance with her himself, but knew better than to compete with a member of the owsla. It was too nice an evening for jealousy, though, and Chestnut was just happy to see the warren at peace.

'Instead all the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you they will kill you,' finished Thistledown. 'But first they must catch you.'

'You believe that?' said Dapple contemptuously. Chestnut stood up at once, worried about his troublemaking friend.

'You don't?' said Thistledown mildly.

'No. Born in a box. Never caught. Never got the chance to run.'

'But they didn't kill you, either,' pointed out Nettle, sitting up. 'Frith promised that they would only kill us if they caught us, and they didn't.'

'If Frith meant that he can eat hraka,' said Dapple. He bared his teeth at the setting sun as if he honestly meant to challenge Frith to fight him. The other rabbits were starting to sit up indignantly, less at the blasphemy than because Dapple had ruined the mood. Chestnut came between them and Dapple and nudged him gently away from them.

'Come on,' he said. 'We don't have to stay if you don't like the stories. I know where there's some clover.'

For a moment Dapple resisted, digging his paws into the ground, and Chestnut was afraid he was going to insist on staying. But then he dropped his head and followed meekly enough, moving slowly as if he was sick or injured.

'Frith doesn't exist or hates us,' he said. 'Haven't decided which.'

'He doesn't hate us,' said Chestnut. 'That's what the story was about. He made the thousand for a reason, but he gave us the chance to get away. Men…men are different, I don't know how. But you did get away.'

Dapple froze so suddenly that Chestnut did too, thinking he had seen a hawk. But he started forward again after a moment, moving with more purpose now.

'Got away,' Chestnut heard him mutter to himself. 'Can run now. Good.'

*

Things came to a head when Oak, a captain of the owsla, tried to push Dapple off a cowslip he had found. Dapple fought back, despite the other rabbit being nearly twice his size, and managed to rip a chunk of fur out of Oak's side before being held down and having his throat bitten. Afterwards he and Chestnut sat on the riverbank, a way from where the other rabbits were still at silflay, and Chestnut cleaned out the wound.

'You shouldn't antagonise the owsla,' said Chestnut. 'You'll get hurt, and Basil-rah won't stand for it if you keep doing this.'

'Small and odd looking,' said Dapple. 'Choice between being aggressive and being bullied.'

'You're better off being bullied than being kicked out altogether,' said Chestnut, pausing to lick gently at Dapple's throat. 'You might even make the owsla once you reach your full growth, if everyone isn't fed up of you by then.'

'Not a yearling, Chestnut,' said Dapple.

'Oh,' said Chestnut softly. Yearlings often had a hard time of it, especially bucks, but it was different when that could be your whole life. 'You could still make the owsla,' he added, determinedly. 'The way you went for that cat you'd be useful on a raid. But nobody will give you a chance if you don't stop causing scenes.'

'Think being a pushover will make them give you a chance?'

Chestnut ground his teeth together. He was getting sick spending every moment on alert, ready to head trouble away from Dapple or deal with the aftermath, and his chances of joining the owsla were a sore point with him since he knew he wasn't any kind of natural leader.

'At least I act like a rabbit and not a long eared rat,' he snapped.

'Act like a gutless field mouse,' said Dapple.

Chestnut decided in an instant he had had enough, he grabbed Dapple and tumbled him over the bank into the river. Dapple gasped and scrabbled his paws frantically, churning the water around him until he managed to pull himself out, fur streaming water. Chestnut jumped on him before he could gather himself, knocking him down and raking teeth through his fur.

'Stop. What are you doing?' demanded Dapple furiously.

'Getting…you…clean,' growled Chestnut, between tugging out clumps of matted fur. He was fed up of sharing a burrow with the dirtiest rabbit in the warren, and past caring that he was hurting his friend.

Dapple kicked him in the stomach, hard enough for his claws to draw blood, knocking Chestnut away from him. He stood over Chestnut, teeth bared and trembling.

'Don't like you,' he said. 'Don't like anyone here. Leaving.'

As Dapple ran along the river, heading for a copse of trees, Chestnut got to his feet and followed, cursing himself for attacking Dapple when he was the only rabbit the other trusted. In the copse the tree branches split the light into patches that reminded him of Dapple's fur, but Dapple himself was nowhere to be seen.

*

It started raining on the afternoon of the next day, a freezing torrent of the sort that can show up suddenly in even the warmest of Aprils. Dapple's fur, longer and softer than a wild rabbit's, picked up mud and held water making the journey even worse than it had been. He had not actually gone very far, even wild rabbits find it hard to walk at a steady pace and Dapple had only recently had more space to move in than a six-foot square run. He was shivering badly with cold and exhaustion, but too stubborn to turn around and go back.

Putting one paw in front of the other took all of Dapple's concentration, and he was thankful for that, when he had tried to rest every rustle sounded like elil and all the shadows were hiding teeth. His hearing was no worse for his floppy ears, but he couldn't twist them to find the direction of a sound and it made every natural noise in the small wood seem to come from everywhere at once.

The fox came at him from a bank of ferns, he saw it just in time to start running and its jaws scraped down his side, catching his back leg and the end of an ear, instead of closing around his spine. Dapple screamed, the hair-raising noise of one who can feel the Black Rabbit approaching, he could see raindrops caught in the coarse fur of the homba's muzzle and smell the rank scent that the rain had covered as it approached. He kicked out frantically with his free leg and its lip tore, peeling back to leave sharp savage teeth exposed and slick with blood. He bolted when he hit the ground, as best he could while lame in one leg, and tumbled down between brambles to land in a rain-filled gap between tree roots.

Thunder rolled above the treetops while they thrashed and lightning threw every leaf and twig into relief, made Dapple's fur glow blue. Dapple lay beneath it all, he had never seen a thunderstorm before and it seemed to him that Frith had taken him up on his challenge and was coming after him, stirring the treetops with his massive paws. After hrair days surrounded by rabbits who were bigger, stronger and healthier than him and who made no secret of their dislike, followed by an attack from the only rabbit who had tolerated him and a day and night travelling alone before being caught by a fox, Dapple had reached the end of his stamina, mental or physical, and could only lie there while slick mud soaked through his fur, tharn and waiting to die.

The storm passed by evening, and Dapple was left on its far shore like flotsam washed up on a river bank. He clambered painfully to his feet, too shaken still to be glad he had survived, and set off back to the warren. There was nowhere else to go.

*

That evening silflay was later than usual due to the storm and rabbits were still grazing fu Inlé, fur bleached silvery by the moonlight. Thistledown was, by popular demand, beginning the story of El-ahrairah and the Stormbird, while Chestnut sat on the edge of the gathering and fretted instead of eating.

'There came a time,' said Thistledown, 'when El-ahrairah found that his warren was entirely without does. Fortunately, or so it seemed, there was a large warren nearby with a great many does who were unhappy and wished to leave it. But the Chief Rabbit of that warren was bigger than a dog and meaner than a stoat, second cousin to the Black Rabbit himself, and when El-ahrairah sent Rabscuttle with a delegation to him he tried at once to imprison them.'

'Worried about Dapple?' asked Furgold, coming up behind Chestnut suddenly and making him jump.

'Yes,' said Chestnut, wretchedly. 'I shouldn't have lost my temper with him like that. I never meant for him to leave.'

'Any other rabbit would have had the sense not to,' said Furgold.

'Any other rabbit would have known it was just a quarrel and could be patched up,' said Chestnut. 'But Dapple was raised in a box, how could he know?'

'I always meant to ask him more about that,' said Furgold. 'We know so little about men. But he wasn't very approachable.'

Chestnut winced at the use of past tense. How far could Dapple have got before some elil found him? Was he still alive and seeking out another warren, where in all likelihood he would be rejected? Yew, who had been grazing nearby, looked up, more through them than at them, his eyes fixed as always on another world.

'You should go to the edge of the copse and wait under the first rowan tree,' he said.

'We should? Is Dapple going to be there?' asked Chestnut.

'Yes,' said Yew, and that was that. Chestnut set out for the copse, a little surprised when Furgold followed.

They passed Chicory and Bayberry on the riverbank. Chicory was grazing, although he paused to greet them, while Bayberry was watching the river and talking in a soft dreamy tone, more to the river itself than his companion.

'Where do rivers run to?' he murmured. 'And do they become rain again when they get there? Does everything go around until it comes back again, or is water created and destroyed when it has run its course? Is everything?'

'He raises some interesting points,' said Furgold to Chestnut after they were past. 'Not that he ever seems to answer them.'

'Do those kind of questions have answers?' said Chestnut, not sure he really cared. He was willing to put a lot of effort into solving a practical problem, but the fate of water was none of his concern.

'Every question has an answer,' said Furgold firmly.

The rowan tree was in bloom, cottony puffs of flowers catching the moonlight, and the two of them settled down under it to wait. Even at the edge of the copse Chestnut disliked being close to the thick undergrowth and carefully kept an eye on the bushes downwind of him. Furgold, as always, was completely relaxed. They waited until the moon was high, and Chestnut was surprised that Furgold stayed. For his own part a mixture of hope and guilt kept him rooted to the spot, leaving would feel like failing Dapple again.

When Dapple appeared he was stumbling, back leg dragging behind him, and seemed unaware of their presence even when he was within a foot of them.

'Dapple,' said Chestnut quietly, and he jerked to a stop, nearly falling over when he did. Chestnut went over to look at his leg, which was caked with mud and blood. 'What happened?'

'Got on the wrong end of a homba,' said Dapple. 'The end with teeth.'

'If you got away from that, you've El-ahrairah's own luck,' said Furgold coming over to look.

'Don't feel lucky,' said Dapple. He swayed on his feet and Chestnut realised that if he collapsed now they were all going to be stuck in the copse until dawn at least. He hastily got on Dapple's injured side, helping prop him up.

'Can you make it back to the warren?' he asked.

'Yes.' There was more bravado than certainty in Dapple's voice, but, thank Frith, they all made it safely back to Chestnut's burrow.

*

Some days later Dapple's leg was healing nicely and he was behaving better as well. Chestnut suspected that finding out what life outside the warren was actually like had made him understand how serious it would be to be driven out. Oak, who was a stickler for the rights of the owsla and something of a bully, seemed to be holding a grudge, despite the fact he hadn't been the one whose throat had been bitten, and never missed a chance to push Dapple around. Chestnut didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when Dapple just took it without complaint.

Larkspur had taken Chestnut, Nettle and Furgold on a garden raid the day before. Nettle had enjoyed the flayrah and the excitement, but for Furgold and Chestnut the highlight of the day had been their first sight of a hrududu and they had been discussing them since. Larkspur called them a couple of weirdos for it, as far as he was concerned hrududil were elil and once you knew how to avoid them you knew everything you needed to know.

'I think they're blind,' said Furgold, while they grazed. 'It explains why they need special paths to run on, so that they don't get lost. And they never seem to see you, even when you're right beside the path.'

'They can catch rabbits though,' said Chestnut.

'Yes, but they hardly seem to aim. They just go fast enough to snatch anyone on their paths, I think.'

'They're not alive,' said Dapple. The other two looked at him and he continued. 'I've been in one. Came out again.'

'Really inside one?' said Chestnut, incredulously. 'Where did it take you?'

'To a white place where men stuck thorns in me,' said Dapple. He was shivering slightly at the memory and started grooming himself to hide it. Chestnut was rather relieved that he did groom himself now, he might learn to act like a rabbit yet.

'Why did they do that?' asked Furgold.

'Don't know,' said Dapple.

Furgold sighed. 'We really don't know enough about men,' he said, and not knowing clearly bothered him a great deal. 'Tell us about the white place.'

'No,' said Dapple. Chestnut shot Furgold a warning look, rabbits seldom refuse to tell stories, whether about themselves or others, and if the memory was that distressing Chestnut would rather drop the matter than push. But he was worried Furgold's always insatiable curiosity would get the better of tact. To his relief Furgold dropped it as well, and the three of them grazed for a while in companionable silence.

The silence was rent by a rabbit's scream, and every rabbit startled upright in time to see a dark furred homba snatch a rabbit from the riverbank and dart back into the copse. Even after it was gone the scream went on. It was Bayberry who was screaming, his closest friend carried off from in front of him. Larkspur ran over and unsympathetically cuffed him into silence. And then, the danger over and the predator already satisfied, somebody started to thump and the whole warren bolted underground.

Chestnut sat in his burrow grooming Dapple, more to comfort himself than the other rabbit who was putting up with it stoically. Furgold was sitting in the entrance to the burrow, rubbing his paws over his face with distressed motions, his calm having for once deserted him.

'You're thinking the same thing I am,' he said.

'Yes,' said Chestnut, looking up. 'We knew the homba was there and we didn't think to tell anyone. And we're meant to be two of the smartest rabbits in the warren.'

'Not the same one,' said Dapple quietly. 'Darker fur.'

Furgold actually jumped a little at that, ears quivering with tension.

'One could just have been passing through,' said Chestnut hopelessly.

'And if it wasn't we have two hombil sharing a territory,' said Furgold. 'You know what that means, and they're right on top of the warren.'

'We should tell Basil-rah,' said Chestnut.

'And if we're wrong we'll start a panic over nothing,' said Furgold.

'No we won't, Basil-rah wouldn't just tell everyone without sending someone to check it out-oh. You think we should check it out. Because you feel guilty about poor Chicory?'

'Don't you?' said Furgold.

'Don't understand,' interrupted Dapple. 'What do two hombil mean?'

'They're breeding,' said Chestnut. 'By high summer there'll be cubs all over the place.'

'Need to look then,' said Dapple calmly. 'Can show you where the one got me.'

'You don't have to come,' said Chestnut, he didn't know what Dapple had gone through during the storm but he had a good idea it hadn't been pleasant. 'This isn't your fault.'

'Certainly knew the homba was there as much as you did,' said Dapple. 'Not about guilt, anyway. Told me to act like part of the warren. Protecting others should be part of that.'

'You deserve to be part of the owsla,' said Furgold, giving Dapple a quick nuzzle. 'And if I get in I'll suggest it. Now come on, it will be easier to do this while everyone's below ground.'

*

As it turned out there was one rabbit above ground. Nettle had been digging out a nest for herself, and was taking a short break when the three bucks went past. She loped over to join them, asking where they were going.

'To the copse,' said Chestnut. 'Dapple was attacked by a homba there, and not the same one that got Chicory. Tell Basil-rah if we don't come back.'

Furgold thought that was a little melodramatic. Even in a worst case scenario two hombil could only catch one rabbit each, although he shuddered at the thought of that happening. Nettle looked at her half finished nest and gave her fur a quick brush off.

'I'll come with you,' she said, although she didn't sound very certain.

'Not when you've kindled,' said Furgold. 'When the kittens can take care of themselves you'll be free to risk yourself again.'

'I've barely kindled,' said Nettle. 'They could be re-absorbed yet, I wouldn't have to stop running for them to never be born. I'll stay away from the hombil, but you know an extra lookout can make all the difference. Besides, I think Yew would have warned me if I was going to die today.'

'Long walk,' said Dapple.

'No longer for me than the rest of you,' said Nettle, more firmly now that she had made up her mind.

Dapple looked like he wanted to object, but he'd been better at keeping his opinion to himself lately, and Chestnut didn't seem to mind Nettle coming so Furgold let her. It wasn't his place to demand she stay behind, anyway. As the four of them headed towards the copse Furgold found he had to struggle to keep the poise that was normally so effortless. He had always been proud of his intelligence, his ability to put things together, and his failure to do so had just cost Chicory his life.

Furgold approached the copse first, nose twitching rapidly as he checked it for danger, the others following him over when he found none. The knowledge that the copse contained two foxes kept them jumping at every shadow, Dapple especially kept startling at nothing the others could hear. It was a long walk, Dapple had been gone nearly two days and Furgold realised he hadn't thought to ask how far he had gone when the homba attacked.

'Furthest I got,' said Dapple.

'And it might not have even been near the den,' said Chestnut. 'There has to be a better way of doing things than this.'

Furgold sat up on his hind legs and combed one ear fussily. He knew he wasn't thinking straight, and it annoyed him the way anything disordered did. 'Look for scent markings and food stashes,' he said. 'And places where things have been thrown around. Cubs play. For now we'll carry on the same way Dapple did, but keep your eyes open.'

They did as he said, to his relief. Chestnut was obedient by nature, since he hated starting fights. Furgold liked him because he was the only other rabbit in the warren that wondered about the same things he did, but he was almost too amiable for the owsla. Nettle was spirited, but had grown up obeying bucks and was only starting to realise she might not need to. Dapple was an odd one, neither a leader or a follower, but aware enough of his own ignorance to listen to the wild rabbits in dangerous situations. For now all three of them had ceded Furgold leadership without question, which was good in one respect but made him feel terribly responsible.

It was past ni-Frith when they found the first signs of foxes, a clearing where plants had been dug up, thrown around and gnawed on. The signs of cubs at play that meant the den must be very close.

'Nettle, Dapple, go back and tell Basil-rah about this,' said Furgold. 'Chestnut and I will take a closer look.'

Dapple looked like he was going to argue, but Chestnut chimed in before he could. 'You're not well camouflaged and your leg hasn't healed,' he said. 'I know you want to help, but slowing us down won't.'

'Four rabbits is too many,' said Furgold. 'Two can evade notice better. We've narrowed down the area we need to search, and we won't stay long.'

'He's right,' said Nettle. 'Come on, we need to get this news back before dusk silflay.'

Once they were gone Chestnut said quietly, 'This really isn't about evading notice, is it? This is penance, and you want me here because I deserve it as much as you do.'

'It's necessary,' said Furgold, standing up to survey the clearing.

'If you're trying to get yourself killed over this, I swear I will bite you.'

'I'm not,' said Furgold, surprised. It hadn't occurred to him it might look that way.

'Not being perfect is the natural state for rabbits, not some terrible crime,' Chestnut continued. 'The rest of us live with it, you'll just have to as well.'

'I'm not…Can we have this conversation later? This really isn't a good time.'

Chestnut thankfully shut up, and both of them hopped out into the clearing, ears pricked up and twisting back and forth. Furgold tried to concentrate entirely on the situation in hand, but Chestnut's point had hit home. He had been the largest of his litter and shown intelligence and poise from the moment he opened his eyes, to the pleasure of his doting parents. Tansy might expect Nettle to be perfect, but Furgold had known he already was and a shining future had spread out before him like a well used track through long grass. Now the grass had closed in around him and, for the first time in his life, he had lost his way.

A broken path through shrubs on one side of the clearing led them, cautious and alert, down to a little dip between oak trees. At the bottom was the mouth of a den, two cubs playing together outside. They were barely larger than rabbits, sharp elil teeth nipping at each other instead of prey. Then the dark furred vixen poked her head out and paused to sniff the air. The rabbits broke and bolted in opposite directions, scattering instinctively in the face of danger.

*

Dapple crouched in the tunnel outside Basil-rah's burrow, Yew sitting nearby patiently. Larkspur had taken Nettle in to see Basil-rah, but Captain Oak was in there as well so Dapple had been left outside rather than risk causing trouble. Dapple looked at Yew, the larger rabbit seemed as always unconcerned and it was starting to be irritating.

'Did you know about the hombil?' he demanded.

Yew blinked and turned his attention to Dapple, although he seemed to not altogether see him. 'No, or I would have said. I don't know everything.'

'Nettle said you would have told her if she would die. Sounds like she thinks you know everything.'

'She won't stop running before the kittens are born,' said Yew. 'I know their names. I've seen them.'

'What else do you see?'

'I see you.' Yew's eyes were still unfocussed, looking through Dapple more than at him and Dapple felt the fur along his spine rise without understanding why. 'To me you look the same as the rest of us.'

'Can you see if Chestnut and Furgold get back safely?' said Dapple, deciding he might as well ask straight out.

'No,' said Yew, elaborating hastily when Dapple froze. 'I mean I don't see. They may well get back safely, they're very smart rabbits.'

'Going to wait for them. Tell Nettle,' said Dapple, and headed for the surface. It was only once he was out of the warren that he felt he could breathe again.

He waited under the same rowan tree where Chestnut and Furgold had waited for him. It had meant a lot to him to find that someone had been hoping he would return, when he had fitted so badly into warren life. Being there for them meant less, they had other friends who would be glad to see them safely back, but right now it was all he could do.

It wasn't too long before Chestnut arrived, out of breath but unharmed. Dapple checked him over and then asked, 'Where's Furgold?'

'We bolted when one of the hombil came out of the den,' said Chestnut. 'I don't know where he is, but if I'd gone looking for him we could still have been chasing one another in circles fu Inlé.'

'Found the den?'

'Yes, there were two cubs that we could see, only about rabbit size so far. I should go and tell Basil-rah this,' said Chestnut.

'In his burrow. Nettle's with him at the moment.'

'Good,' said Chestnut. 'Are you coming?'

'No. Waiting for Furgold too.'

'Be careful then. You're in the hombil's territory as well.'

Dapple settled down again when he had gone. He should only be half as worried now he knew one of his friends was safe, but it didn't seem to work like that. He found himself remembering how it had felt to have teeth close around his leg, to lie in a ditch afterwards with no hope left of survival. And Furgold had fled from in front of a homba, one which had not followed Chestnut. Was he hurt, bleeding, dying? Dapple felt a tension building inside him like that he had felt in the air before the storm. He had been less worried when he thought Chestnut and Furgold were together, he trusted them to take care of each other more than of themselves.

When Furgold did appear after what felt like an age, Dapple was relieved enough that his greeting nearly knocked the other rabbit down. He was limping Dapple realised, and he started sniffing the leg for blood.

'I'm not hurt,' said Furgold, panting slightly. 'But I've never had to run so fast in my life.'

*

Basil-rah sat in his burrow, surrounded by enough rabbits that they barely all fit even though this was the largest burrow in the warren. Furgold and Chestnut sat in the centre with Dapple between them, his floppy ears making his expression very difficult to read. Larkspur had helped himself to Basil-rah's dandelion leaves without asking, and was stretched out as if he was lazing in the sun. Briar sat beside him, neat, sensible and alert in contrast to his sprawling unconcern. Thistledown gave Chestnut a quick nuzzle of encouragement as he took his own place nearby. Oak loomed near Basil-rah, dividing his time between glaring at Larkspur and at Dapple. Oak didn't really like anyone, with the exception of Basil-rah himself, but he reserved a special animosity for Larkspur, who enjoyed pushing his luck. Dapple just annoyed him by not knowing his place. Yew was in the entrance rather than the burrow itself, and was looking outwards instead of paying attention to the meeting. Basil-rah ignored him, if he had something to say he would say it. Once the younger rabbits had told the whole story the floor was opened for suggestions.

'The first thing to do is post extra sentries at evening silflay and make sure everyone stays near the burrows,' said Briar. She was the only one of them to have directly dealt with a fox before, but that one had just been passing through and she had only had to lead it on a wide berth around the warren. Although that had been dangerous enough.

'Agreed,' said Basil-rah. 'Thistledown, go and see to that would you?'

Thistledown left without complaint, he was more of a doer than a thinker and could be trusted to get the word out without starting a panic and organise sentries but would probably not have had much to contribute to the meeting. Chestnut looked just a little more nervous, now that the friendliest owsla member was gone.

'Men kill hombil,' said Larkspur. 'We've just gotta get their attention.'

'Are you volunteering?' asked Briar, her acid tone saying she doubted it. Which was unfair, Larkspur was a nuisance but he wasn't a coward.

'It's a good suggestion,' said Basil-rah, thoughtfully. 'There are men with guns who come out here at times. If someone led them into the wood, they might kill the hombil for us.'

'I will,' said Dapple. When everyone looked at him he went low to the ground but didn't back down. 'They won't shoot me. Will try to put me in a box again. Marked as theirs.'

Basil-rah looked at Dapple thoughtfully. He had assumed he was a troublemaker, staying with the warren because he knew he couldn't survive outside it but unwilling to make the effort to become part of it. It looked like he had misjudged the runt after all.

'Are you sure?' asked Chestnut. 'You're not as fast as us, and if they do shoot…'

'Sure. Got loose once before.'

'Remember you'll be close to the hombil as well,' said Furgold. 'They will try to kill you.'

'Larkspur and Oak should be there as well,' said Basil-rah. 'Their job will be to lead the hombil to the men, while Dapple leads the men towards the hombil. They will also act as backup to distract the hombil from Dapple, since they have more chance of getting away safely. Agreed?'

'Sounds like a plan,' said Larkspur. He nudged Dapple with a paw. 'Don't worry, I'll have your back.'

'Thank you,' said Dapple. Basil-rah had seen a similar expression once on a rabbit that had been on the road when a hrududu came around the corner. He wondered whether Dapple was less sure than he sounded about men not shooting him, or whether life in a box was so terrible.

'Oak, take some of the owsla to keep an eye out for the men with guns. We don't want to miss them. Briar, you take some to watch the hombil,' said Basil-rah. 'Everyone else can go and silflay.'

*

Evening silflay was horribly subdued. A lot of the does were kindled or had litters already, and the news about the foxes left them understandably upset. Nettle stayed determinedly calm, and soon had a ring of other young does around her taking reassurance from that. Bayberry kept trying to wander outside the cordon of sentries, until Thistledown took him gently aside and stayed grazing beside him. Chestnut and Furgold both stayed near Dapple, as if their presence could keep the future at bay, even though he was moodier than ever and snapped his teeth at Chestnut for getting too close.

Furgold didn't mind Dapple's bad temper though, he was an imaginative rabbit and had a better idea than the others what Dapple was choosing to risk. No rabbit, unless sick or very much depressed, will choose isolation. Even a lone hlessi wanders in search of a warren, where he will once again live among other rabbits, sharing burrows, telling stories and playing games. Dapple had lived for Frith knew how long with neither companionship nor any hope of it, and now that he had found some he was willing to risk losing that companionship to protect those that offered it.

One advantage rabbits have is that sometimes when there's nothing to say they don't try to talk. Furgold and Chestnut didn't have any comfort to offer beyond their presence, so they stayed close and hoped it was enough.

*

It was Thistledown who stuck his head into Chestnut's burrow to tell them that the men had come, Oak and Larkspur were already going to lead the foxes to them. Dapple, body wired already for fight or flight and nerves screaming at him to stay underground where it was safe, followed. Chestnut stayed behind, paws scuffing anxiously at the earth beneath him, but knowing an extra rabbit would only get in the way.

They took the path to the men slowly, they wouldn't leave for some time yet and Dapple was going to have a lot of running to do once he got their attention. Thistledown spoke to him as they went, but Dapple had no idea what he was saying and suspected the older rabbit knew that perfectly well. He wished he had said a proper goodbye to Chestnut, just in case, at the same time as knowing that would only have made both of them feel worse. The crack of a gunshot as they neared the field left him poised to run, feet splayed and panting hard.

'Easy, lad,' said Thistledown. 'Are you sure you can do this?'

'Not much choice now,' said Dapple, forcing himself to calm down. 'They won't shoot me.'

He headed for them before Thistledown could say anything else, repeating his last words in his head like a mantra. They won't shoot me. They won't shoot me. He forced himself to lope out of the bushes as if he hadn't seen them, the slow rocking pace of a rabbit at rest. They won't shoot me.

They didn't shoot. Instead they were talking, saying something in harsh human voices, while Dapple got ready to run. One of them approached him slowly, crouching down as if that would make it look smaller, holding out its hand. Dapple backed away a few cautious paces, and the man followed. He moved further, in the direction of the copse and stopped again.

Dapple's focus was on the man reaching for him so it took him a moment to realise he was being surrounded. He dived for a gap between men and the butt of a rifle came down making him balk and keeping him within their cordon. Hopping around in circles, trying to avoid reaching hands, was getting him nowhere and wearing him out as well. Dapple gathered himself and ran straight towards the copse, through a gap in the circle of men. When the rifle came down he forced himself to ignore it, and it stopped over his head with the wind of its passing ruffling his fur.

Running too fast would make them give up, but it took all Dapple's courage to slow down his headlong rush and wait for them. Getting to the copse turned into a series of little spurts, punctuated by a pause while the humans tried to encircle him again, then sprinting away before they could. Dapple was tiring, sore leg burning with the effort, by the time they were in sight of the copse. Just as he felt sure he could go no further, Oak and Larkspur dived out of the copse each with a fox on their tail. A rifle barked twice and Dapple paused to watch, lungs bursting, just long enough for two rough hands to scoop him up.

He screamed, flailing against his captor, legs kicking and teeth bared. One hand closed around his neck, pushing his head up to keep his teeth away from the wrists. He raked them with his claws instead, strong back legs leaving gouges and making the hands around him shake. Then he was dropped, not onto the ground but into a bag, and he bit and bit at the rough sacking to no avail. He would not give up, never give up, no matter what they did to him. But when the sack was picked up he found it impossible to even keep his footing, and was carried helplessly away.

*

Larkspur and Oak finished off the orphaned cubs that night, coming back with the blood of elil on their teeth and with a tale to tell the awed warren. Larkspur especially had an easy knack of making all stories about him and Dapple, the real hero, seemed almost overlooked. Nobody even seemed sorry he was gone, they were grateful for his sacrifice but relieved to be rid of the strange and temperamental rabbit who had been among them for less than a season. Chestnut, moping in his burrow, felt like the only exception. Even Furgold seemed less upset than he would have hoped. So when Furgold poked his head into Chestnut's burrow one evening Chestnut ignored him, almost hoping to start a fight.

'I've been thinking,' said Furgold. 'If the men wanted Dapple in a box, do you suppose they put him back in the same one?'

Chestnut spun around to face him, suddenly overwhelmed with hope. 'Let's go and see.'

The moonlit garden was much the same as it had been before. Both rabbits kept a wary eye out for the cat, but it retreated to the shed roof at the sight of them. The shed door was closed this time, but careful looking revealed a loose plank that could be shouldered aside. From the box in the corner came the sound of frantic chewing.

'Hello, Dapple,' said Chestnut, hopping up to the mesh. This time the side of the box had been reinforced and Dapple's efforts were getting him nowhere. But it was just like Dapple, Chestnut thought with a rush of affection, to refuse to give up anyway. Dapple spun around, but this time he pressed up against the mesh in speechless greeting, while Furgold bit at the catch until it turned.

All three of them wound up in a pile on the shed floor, and they forgot where they were for long enough to sniff each other all over, seeing for themselves that all was well. Dapple smelt of something sharp and unpleasant and the other two tried to cover up the chemical scent with their own, before he pushed them off and pointed out that they were still in danger here. They raced each other back to the warren, even Dapple finding it in him to be playful for once, and dawn found them curled together in Chestnut's burrow.

At silflay the next morning the other rabbits were surprised to see Dapple back, but thankfully none seemed disappointed by it. Dapple refused to tell his side of the story, he hated talking in front of groups, but Thistledown managed to worm the whole thing out of him and turned it into a tale to rival Larkspur's without any embellishment being necessary. Dapple didn't seem entirely happy with the fame that got him, but Furgold pointed out that brave and useful was a better reputation than weird and violent.

'True,' said Dapple, munching on some clover they had found. 'Fuss about nothing, though. Anyone would have done it.'

'How can anyone as cynical as you really believe that?' asked Chestnut.

He didn't get an answer, but under Frith's warm gaze and with clover to eat no question seemed very important. The only thing that mattered was that Dapple was now here to stay.

*

*

*

Character List

Dapple - Rorschach

Chestnut - Dan

Furgold - Adrian

Nettle - Laurie

Tansy - Sally

Larkspur - Eddie

Basil-rah - Nelly

Oak - HJ

Yew - Jon

Briar - Ursula

Chicory - Dollar Bill

Bayberry - Byron

Thistledown - Hollis