Three days passed. During daylight, were it cool, Nick and Judy would make trek toward home, following the signs and their inerrant memories. Travel to home was always the easy part. It was back through known territory, back through paths and landmarks already committed to memory. They foraged from berry bushes they knew well, picked mushrooms, and found no hunger on their journey. They drank from streams and found no thirst. They made sure to avoid the darker, deeper forests.

It was the fourth dawn when they saw the Burrows on the horizon. The familiar stretches of farmland and huts filled Judy with a longing, like she always felt when she returned home. She knew that, like clockwork, she would soon long to travel outward again, as was her duty. Nick brushed up against her, padding on all fours while she walked alongside him.

"Judy, what will you tell your father?" It wasn't like him to speak out of turn, but the experience had shaken him.

"Nick… I will tell my father that we wounded a wolf. I will tell him that the Meadowlands are a good place, and that maybe to the west, further from the ocean's salt, we will find good land for our homes."

"So you will lie." Nick observed, trying to veer away from sounding judgmental.

Judy was silent for a long moment. Then she nodded.

"I will lie."

Hopping on rocks over a slow stream, the pair soon came within the distance of a thrown stone from the Burrows. They crossed beside a field of lettuce and caught the attention of young bunnies tending to the crops. In moments they were surrounded by bouncing children and even some adults, eager for news of her mission. Nick couldn't help but smirk at all the rampant hopping.

"Now now, young bunnies, we must report to father. Look how you shirk from your work at the first sign of interest." Judy chided, half-laughing. "We'll all starve if you run from the fields so easily!"

"But sister we want to know too!" They complained, bouncing and pulling her clothes. The other bunnies were dressed similarly to Judy, and did not balk once at Nick's nakedness. They were all quite used to it. One by one they broke off and went back to their work, save for a small bunny not four years old that Nick cradled in his arms.

"This one is too small, why was she in the fields?" He asked Judy, petting the small bunny's head as she sucked her thumb.

"Oh, Lucinda. You mustn't stray from the huts. The fields are… The fields are for bigger girls and boys." Judy explained, looking down into her sister's large eyes. She wasn't mad. She was just concerned. More than once small bunnies had been snatched by loathsome predators skulking on the edges of Burrows land. She didn't want to tell little Lucy that such was the reason for her concern, so she took a different route.

When they reached the huts, Nick set Lucinda down and she hurried off into the arms of an older sibling. Judy waved at the sights of her sisters and brothers, and they were happy to see her. As it was their first sight of her, they knew better than to expect her to speak to them. They all knew she had to speak to their father first.

Judy approached the hut with the heavy wood door. She knocked twice, then opened it. Nick stayed outside, curling up into a sitting position and licking at the backs of his paws. Inside the hut, light peeked through the thatched roof. There her father sat in the spartan room in a chair made from branches, his expression changing to one of joy to see his daughter return safely. Judy sat, folding her legs together on the floor. She waited to be addressed.

"Judy, Seeker, my daughter, I am overjoyed that you have returned safely." Stu said, his mature eyes squinting as he smiled. "Though only six days, our hearts have missed you. Tell me now, Seeker. What did you see? Are the Meadowlands a safe place? Did you and your fox find our new home?"

Judy took a breath, and then she spoke:

"Father, the Meadowlands are a place of peace. To the east are crags and the whisper of the ocean. To the west are broader plains that may be tamed by our methods."

"And have you any reason to suspect danger or strife on the journey?"

Judy shook her head. "The journey is safe. We only needed to hide but once. There were plentiful streams and sources of food, though we would have supplies should we journey as a village."

Stu nodded. "And the lands themselves. What dangers did you encounter?" He took up a pipe made from a husk of corn and began to smoke from it. Then he drank from a crude bowl of water, made from a rock rubbed against another.

Judy looked away for a moment. She exhaled. Her emotions surged and swirled inside her, and she knew she had to control them before she could speak. She remembered the wolf's voice. She remembered its white fur with a patch of blood like the sunset in a hazy sky. She remembered Nick's hesitation… His kindness where hers hadn't been.

"Father, Nick and I… We caught scent of a wolf. A wolf, but no pack. We followed and observed this wolf at a safe distance. Soon, the wolf turned toward us, and we had no choice but plan an ambush. Though I injured the wolf with my sling, it escaped. Nick's nose is true: this wolf had no pack. The danger of one wolf is… small, father. It is surmountable. We could tend the Meadowlands."

Stu leaned back in the chair, and it creaked in the silence. He looked pensive, and he smoked on his pipe for several moments before speaking.

"Then we might prepare to move soon. Good work, Judy. You are my prized daughter. I will send you once more to the Meadowlands before we begin preparations. We must wait for the current crops to yield. Then… Then we shall go to our new home."

Judy was relieved, but she did not show it; she knew better. She stood, slowly, as her father opened his arms. The embrace was warm and familiar. She had known this all since childhood. Like she had known her trustworthy fox. When she drew away from her father, he looked her in the eyes.

"I have lived a long time, Judy. I have lived so long that I have forgotten my first summers. In all my time working the earth and raising you children, never have I caught scent of a lone wolf. Never. When your sling struck the wolf. You saw it? Tell me."

Judy was not expecting such questions. Her father had seemed so satisfied. But now he was serious, his brown eyes shrunken with fear. He held her more tightly than he ought to, more protectively than in a long time.

"Father… The wolf was a white wolf. It hunted alone, for field mice. We caught no scent nor heard no howl of another wolf. This wolf, when struck… Did not howl. Did not seek help. This wolf was alone, father. This wolf had no one." Her mind was choked with memory. She had not realized before the lack of tell-tale howling. Never had she heard a wolf with no howl.

'Cubs…' She recalled, and thought of her young sisters – thought of Lucinda.

"You will now consult the elders, Judy. You will ask them for advice. In a week's time you will return to the Meadowlands, my Seeker. We must be sure of its safety. Go now." Stu said, kissing her forehead. "And once you have spoken with the elders, see your mother. She has fretted."

Judy only reluctantly left her father's hut. She saw Nick sitting outside and reached to pet his head and rub his ears.

"Come, Nick. We go now to the elders." She said, and he stood. He was always perfectly capable of standing, but more often than not he would walk on all fours. Judy thought it had something to do with his predator species. To Nick, it was merely comfortable. Together, Nick and Judy crossed the village toward the long hut where the elders stayed.

The elders had long been too old to work the fields, but the Hopps Clan respected age. They were Judy's grandparents – her father's parents, and her mother's mother. Judy's grandfather on her mother's side had died during a predator attack years ago. He had been out for a walk. It was quick, too quick, and no one purported to know what manner of predator had done the deed.

This time, when Judy entered the hut, Nick followed her. Two large patches of hay arranged into beds sat on either side of the hut. There was little else save for crude jugs of water made from clay, baskets storing dried vegetables, and a table and chairs. Judy's grandmothers appeared to be working on their knitting and trading stories, while her grandfather whittled a small wooden object, a carving. When more light from outside entered with Judy, they noticed her and paused their crafting.

"Judy!" It was almost in unison that they exclaimed her name, opening their arms to receive a hug and a cheek rub each. Even in the dim light, Judy could see and appreciate the similarities between these rabbits and her parents.

Nick rested nearby, sitting on his haunches again and watching the rabbits exchange pleasantries. He was sure they saw him, and he was sure he was nearly as rabbit as everyone in the Hopps Clan, but still he was not so used to such affection save for that which he received from Judy.

"I have come for council, good elders." Judy said, separating from the last hug and sitting down with her legs crossed as she had done for her father. Nick came to rest in her lip.

"Speak, Judy." Her grandfather encouraged, setting his whittling aside.

"In the Meadowlands, Nick and I encountered a lone wolf. But this wolf did not appear as in the old stories. It was no bigger nor bloodier than an average wolf." Judy worked through her words, still confused by what had happened.

Her grandmothers looked between each other. One said, "Lone wolves are dangerous, Judy. Too dangerous to combat. You ran, surely?"

Judy nodded. Again, she lied.

"Lone wolves…" Judy's grandfather spoke, and the others listened. "They are dangerous because they are desperate. Imagine living without your brothers and sisters, Judy. Imagine living without your fox. Such is the life of a lone wolf. It is no wonder they go mad."

"And what of these terms: alpha, omega? We- we overheard the wolf." Judy felt as if her lie would be caught then and there. She was worried. Would she be admonished? Separated from Nick?

There was a silent moment, and Judy felt as if any moment the pain of disapproval would hit her ears.

Sensing this, Nick swished his tail and rubbed the back of his head against Judy's paw. She rubbed him gently in reply, looking up at her grandparents.

"These are wolf words," Her mother's mother said with a deep sigh, "heard only in old times when we once encountered wolves often. The alpha are the leaders of the pack, like your father leads our Clan. An omega is the least respected member. Subservient to all others. The refuse of the pack."

So this was the meaning behind the wolf's words. She had been with an alpha, but her place was omega. That explained her expulsion. Judy knew of such ranks in different terms. For example, she wouldn't dream of speaking out of turn to her father, and her younger siblings similarly deferred to her. Nick… Nick was deferential to all. But why? He was taller. Stronger. He could end a life at any time, and Judy knew that.

Nick knew, too. He knew, but he didn't think of it. It was far from the realm of possibility. He was a good fox, and he belonged to the Hopps Clan. Still, it begged the question. Why were not all predators good, and kind, and peaceful with the Hopps Clan? Did they need to be raised from birth, their cruel natures eased out of them by a loving rabbit family? Nick and Judy's minds raced with these thoughts as if they were connected.

"Judy." Her grandfather spoke again. "You must not stay your paw when it comes to a wolf. Lone or not. They are murderers of rabbits, little more. If you are granted such an opportunity again, to draw near to a lone wolf, suffer it not to live. Do you understand?"

It was an ultimatum. A law. Judy knew it like she knew many laws. Never strike a Clan member. Never leave the Clan grounds alone; even she had to have Nick with her at all times. Never lie.

Nick stirred, affected by the incongruity of the events. He hadn't wished to speak out of defiance, originally, but sheer curiosity. His tone sounded more insolent than he wished.

"But… Does this not make us the wolf?" Nick said, and Judy stared at him. They all stared. "This wolf hunted not us. Why pursue the wolf? Kill it with no reason? Because it is wolf?"

Judy's father's mother frowned, her wrinkled features creasing even further. "Calm your pet, Judy. He does not understand. We fight to defend, we Hopps. We are but food to the wolf, nothing more."

Judy did try to calm Nick; she stroked along his back although the fur there was bristling and rising in upset. His tail swished, and he turned from Judy's lap to face the elders.

"And a fox? What if a fox? What if me in the grass? Kill me too, before all else? For safety?" Nick was demanding an answer out of turn; for him to talk in such a way was unimaginable. Judy hadn't any idea where he got such notions. The Hopps clan all loved him, surely, so why should he feel so personally attacked?

"Nick…" Judy spoke gently, trying to calm him, but Nick would not be placated so easily. He turned and left, pushing open the flap of the door and letting in a momentary abundance of light from the sun outside. Judy was stricken with guilt, immediately accepting the vague, unspoken blame on behalf him. Such was the way of things, to act with humility and filial piety. Nick had been taught the same, but now she felt as if she was truly seeing what lie within his heart.

Judy turned her head up to her elders, who in turn looked to each other.

"Rein in your fox, Judy." One said, before going back to her knitting.

"See that he does not take such tone in the future. He is lucky he has cause to take tone at all, what with our saving him from the unknown of the wild." Said another, shaking his head in disapproval.

Judy nodded. It was time for her to go. Time to see to Nick, and to greet her mother. She stood, and she bowed her head deeply, and she wished she had not told anyone about the wolf at all.