Characters/places (c) Richard Adams. Reviews appreciated.
"I bet it would, too," Said Bigwig, looking with admiration at the two-inch beak and thick neck. - Bigwig, Watership Down
"Oh, no, no, no, no," Bigwig was saying. "Oh my wings and beak, that won't do!" - Bigwig, Watership Down
Springtime on Watership Down brought an abundance of new: new flowers that dotted the clean field, new grass ripe for the trimming, and new rabbits to assist in said trimming. For the old rabbits, those who still remembered their lives either in Sandelford or Efrafa, early spring was a happy occasion and as they came up to the Down for morning silfay many momentarily forgot that they themselves were not kittens and playfully chased each other over the field.
Only one lone buck stood apart from the others, though not from a cold disposition or indifference. Bigwig had left his burrow early that morning to see off Kehaar along with the other original Watership Down bucks and a few brave youngsters who had heard only stories of the brawling gull. One by one, however, they filtered away back to the Honeycomb or to early silfay until Bigwig was left alone to watch Kehaar's fading silhouette on the horizon.
Oh, what it would be like to fly! Bigwig would trade his ears for a pair of fantastic wings like Kehaar's (after the fight with Woundwart his ears weren't worth much anyway), or give his tail for just one day of being a bird.
A fresh breeze disturbed the long grass and rippled the blades like an ocean wave; Bigwig pressed his face against the wind and secretly enjoyed how it moved his tuff of hair. He wondered what the wind felt like above the trees – would it tickle his stomach? Or would he be able to feel it at all, being so high? Would he be able to smell up there, or would he simply fly over them?
But if he had wings he would certainly have to have a beak! O-ho, wouldn't that be a sight for that mangy farm cat, or any other elil for that matter! Maybe he would give his tail for a beak, instead.
Another gust, this one much more powerful, raced across the ground, up the slope of the Down and through Bigwig's fur. He splayed his claws and braced himself against the push, although he knew that his great mass was too much to be moved by the wind…
…Or maybe not.
"Frith in a tree!" Bigwig grumbled as he turned away, "I'm starting to sound like one of Bluebell's jokes!" And indeed his idea was so ludicrous, it seemed as though Bluebell had snuck the thought into his head while he wasn't looking.
In a moment the hill was empty save for a few insects that were fortunate enough to fly rather than creep. It was several minutes before another burst of wind gathered enough strength to roll over the lower field and begin up the hillside.
Faster than a firefly's blink, Bigwig tore down the field as though the Black Rabbit himself gave chase. His lean fighter's muscles carried him down, down, down, and just as he felt the first trace of wind on his nose he coiled his powerful back legs –
- and jumped into thin air.
The wind kissed his fur as he was lifted, sailing over the grass like a young swallow. Bigwig closed his eyes and allowed his other senses to be manipulated by the breeze; smelling it, feeling it, hearing it, Frith above he could even taste it! Stretching out his body, he took a large gulp of the tangy spring air.
The gulp turned into a choke as his large body hit the earth with a sickening crack and he continued his flight along the Down rolling head over heels.
Hazel had just found a budding mound of cowslip and called over to Hyzenthlay to share when the doe started and looked past him. "Bigwig?"
The chief rabbit turned; Bigwig was lumbering up to the wide group of rabbits with a painful gait, fresh scratches on his hide and burs caught in his fur. Hazel was immediately at his friend's side. "Bigwig; what in Frith's name happened?"
"Bird got me." His captain growled. "Stupid flying blighters. Who in their right mind would want to be one?"
Hazel exchanged a smiling glance with his doe before examining Bigwig's leg and tenderly licking the broken skin. "Good thing the bird didn't carry you away, or give you a pair of wings of your own." Hyzenthlay nodded.
Bigwig responded with halfhearted snort. "Rabbits flying what a bunch of kitten tale rubbish; you're both thinking like Bluebell – or Fiver for that matter."
"Well," Hazel purred through a mouthful of hair, "Bluebell would make the joke, but he's not clever enough to think of how. I bet Blackberry could craft you a pair of wings; but I wouldn't ask him if I were you, for we would all miss you terribly if you flew away from the Down."
"Too right." Hyzenthlay agreed, "We all want you here – as a rabbit." She hastily added.
Bigwig said nothing, but at Hazel's urging settled down to share the cowslip with Hyzenthlay who in turn pressed close against his flank. They spent the day together, talking, sharing flay, basking in the sun; sometimes Hazel and Bigwig chased each other across the Down in a mock fight. He didn't look up to the sky or feel the wind tease his hair; he was much too preoccupied with his friends here on the ground.
The rabbits slowly made their way down into the Honeycomb before Inle', and gathered around Dandelion to hear a story, some nonsense about El-ahrairah and the rabbit who wanted to be a dog. They all listened politely and congratulated Dandelion when he was done for another well delivered story before dispersing to their burrows. Before Bigwig left, however, he made it a point to find Bluebell and give him a strong cuff on the back of the head before moving on to bed.