*Happy 60th Birthday Dad!*
Chapter One
The late August sun was setting lazily over the River Thames.
Along the river path families strolled at a relaxed pace, their goodnatured chatter mingling with the sound of birdsong and their happy canine companions. Occasionally, the ringing of a bicycle bell or a friendly exclamation of 'coming through' was heard from fast-moving runners and cyclists, out enjoying the good weather on a Sunday evening. None of these travellers paid much heed to the patch of grassland that lay next to the river path, a little ways south-east of Teddington Lock.
Beneath this patch of greenery, where the residents of the neighbouring road enjoyed their annual Bonfire Night celebrations, stretched a vast honeycomb of a warren – consisting of hrair upon hrair of interlinked tunnels, connecting cozy nesting burrows to partially hidden entrances and narrow emergency exits - for use in the worrying event of an Elil invading the safety of the underground tunnels.
The warren had grown haphazardly over the past decade, incorporating tree roots into its architecture. It was common for newborn rabbit kits to become lost in the maze-like tangle of passageways, needing to be gently nudged back by their elders, towards the familiar smells of their mother's burrow.
On this particular evening Carrot and Bramble, two young sister kits, sat in the mouth of a rabbit hole in the shadow of willow tree. They were being very brave, to venture out alone when Lord Frith was still bathing the earth in his golden light, and Elil were making the walls of the warren shake with their noise and activity.
The two kits nibbled the short grass that lay within a paw's reach of the entrance, their ears stretched upwards and their whiskers and noses twitching rapidly - alert to any predators that might cross into the secluded patch of shade where they grazed.
Bramble was the tallest of the two, a full four inches in height when standing up on her hind-paws. She had a russet undertone to her short, sleek, grey fur, and a warm, shy and humble nature. Though watchful and slow to join in with her siblings when playing with an unknown group of kits, she could be playful and relaxed when giggling and nuzzling with her sisters in the safety of their nest.
Carrot was the smaller kit, smaller even than some of their younger siblings, though they were a full month apart in age. Her fluffy, light grey and white fur stuck up in odd directions, giving her the appearance of a round little dandelion clock. She had been named after the flayrah that their mother had once tasted on a daring raid to the garden of a surrounding house with their father. It had been the most delicious thing their mother had ever tasted, and when her tiny daughter had been born - the smallest, but loudest of the litter - she had remembered the wonderful crisp flayrah and the moonlit adventure, and had thought it would be a fine name for the small kit, curiously nuzzling at her siblings and exploring the cozy nest.
Carrot's mother thought that the tiny grey rabbit could be excitable and too talkative by half. She had a tendency to ask questions that had her mother and sisters wrinkling their noses and scratching their ears in puzzlement. It had been Carrot's idea to silflay during the last of that day's light, whilst their warren-mates slept - this was to avoid being pushed around by the older, bigger kits fu inle.
The two sisters knew that it was usually pointless to try speaking to the older rabbits who took the best grazing and chased away younger kits like Bramble and Carrot.
To Carrot's puzzlement, many of these kits often seemed to avoid speaking altogether, only communicating their feelings and intentions with twitches of their nose and movements of their ears and bodies – indeed, Carrot had been cuffed with a paw and even had her fur nipped for persistently trying to talk to kits from other families - and when they did answer her it was in a halting, grudging manner, as if they had almost forgotten lapine, and did not wish to be reminded. Larger kits had even turned their backs on Carrot, grooming their ears as if no one was there - the worst insult a rabbit can bestow.
In short, Carrot's attempts to persuade the older rabbits to let her and her sisters silflay in the thick, tasty grass with them had been quite unsuccessful – and this was why she and Bramble were now taking advantage of the fact that most of the warren were dozing underground, to graze on their own.
As the Lord Frith sank beyond the horizon, and twilight saw a deepening of shadows, the two kits relaxed somewhat, hopping a little ways away from the warren entrance towards the long, delicious, dark green grass. The sounds of Elil were becoming quieter, as the warmth of the day drained away, and the big two-legged Elil retreated back to their square burrows. The chilling cry of the owl had yet to be heard.
Carrot, who had caught the scent of a dandelion leaf on the air, began to make her way toward the inviting smell, whiskers twitching enthusiastically.
From the distance came the excited barking of a dog, causing Bramble to sit up - back straight, and ears pointed sharply upwards, straining to identify the direction the sound was coming from. Though far away, it seemed to be coming closer, and Bramble felt the roots of her fur prickle with a creeping fear. Her heart seemed to be thumping in her chest, as she struggled to keep her voice under control.
'Car?' she whispered, addressing what appeared to be a fluffy round ball of fur. 'Do you hear that? I think it's coming closer.'
The smaller rabbit sat up, raising her ears and sniffing the air impatiently. In between the excited barks could be heard a hoarse, human voice shouting, 'Jasper! Come Jasper!'. For a moment Carrot held herself absolutely still, listening, before relaxing and shaking out her fur. 'It's ages away Bram –' Carrot's voice became muffled as she returned to snuffling around in the grass, searching for the dandelion, 'but if it comes any closer-', Carrot let out a happy squeak as she located the flayrah, 'we can go back'.
Bramble returned to grazing nervously, keeping her ears up, and regularly pausing to skim the horizon. In the distance the human voice seemed even crosser than before – 'Jasper! What's gotten into you!', but the excited barking failed to come closer. At last the sounds of dog and human began to recede into the distance, and Bramble relaxed enough to join her sister in happily nibbling the young dandelion leaves.
The two kits were enjoying the rare treat when a rustling from behind disturbed them. Turning to the scrub grass that separated the river path from their patch of lush green grass, the sisters caught sight of the largest buck rabbit they had ever seen. His fur was brown, flecked with the grey that comes into a buck's fur when he has seen many summers. Around his head was a thick shock of dark brown fur, also starting to grey.
'Frith give me strength,' the buck rabbit exclaimed, shaking pieces of dried scrub grass from coat, 'I'm too old for this nonsense – chased by dogs, scuttling about from here to there with nothing more than the say so of a-'. The buck sat up on his hindpaws, using his right front paw to scratch dust and fragments of dry grass from behind his ear. His eyes scanned the clearing under the willow tree, settling on Carrot and Bramble.
The buck eyed the two kits wearily: with a resigned sigh, he travelled over to them in measured hops, until he sat just three paw's lengths from the sisters. Bramble noted that the big rabbit seemed to keeping his weight off his left front paw – she wondered if he had hurt it.
'Ahem.' The big rabbit cleared his throat. 'I Bigwig', he said, gesturing to himself with his right paw. 'Come.' he pointed to himself again, 'from warren far away' – at this point he gestured vaguely to the south. 'I speak to chief rabbit.' he said emphatically. Glancing from one sister to the other, he sighed, and asked in a strained, tired voice, 'You kits understand me?'
Carrot, her whiskers and nose wiggling with curiosity, spoke without thinking, 'What's a chief rabbit? (the actual word in lapine is 'Rah' – Bigwig had asked for an audience with the 'Rah' of Carrot and Bramble's warren).
Before the big rabbit could answer, Bramble spoke, in such a quiet voice that Bigwig had to stain his ears to hear her. 'Have you hurt your paw Mr Bigwig?'
Carrot was almost bouncing up and down now, excited at the thought that this apparently seasoned traveller must surely know the answers to all, or a least some, of the questions that her mother did not. 'Do you mean a chief rabbit like El-ahrairah in the stories? We don't have anyone like that here... How far away is your warren Mr Bigwig? Do you have a chief rabbit? Are they very wise and cunning? Did you follow the water to get here? How long did it take you? Did you- '
By this point Bramble had ventured a little closer to the large buck rabbit, and was gently inspecting his left paw. As she had suspected the joint looked red and swollen, seemingly sprained in his flight from the dog.
Bigwig pulled away from Bramble, caught off guard. Then he drew himself up, using bluster to disguise his bewilderment. 'You kits understand what I'm saying to you? Your mother taught you the tongue of El-ahrairah?'
Bramble and Carrot exchanged glances. Bramble spoke hesitantly, 'yes, Mr Bigwig, she did. But...' Carrot joined in, her words tumbling out in a rush, 'most of the young rabbits don't like to speak, at least not to us. We're not sure why.'
'Tell me young doe, who's in charge here?' asked Bigwig, sounding tired. Around the three rabbits, twilight was fading into night, and bright stars were becoming visible in the inky sky like tiny pinpricks of silver.
Again, the two sisters exchanged a glance. Bramble cleared her throat and answered nervously, 'mother says there used to be a council, when she was a kit. Some of the elders do try to tell the younger rabbits things, but hardly any one listens to them...'. Bramble blushed, feeling intensely awkward under the scrutiny of the large stranger.
'I should like to speak with these elders,' said Bigwig, rubbing his right front paw across his forehead, 'as soon as possible'.
Soon the two sisters were leading Bigwig down through the maze of passageways, towards the chamber deep below ground where the elders liked to doze. They had been travelling for some time when the older rabbit paused, turning to address the younger rabbits, 'You kits have been very helpful, and I shan't forget it.' he said.
Above their heads, the weather had turned cool, and the first bone-chilling call of the owl rang out across the moonlit grassland.
*Chapter Two will be published on Sunday October 25th!*