Chapter 2
Inside, the house was pitch black. The windows were all boarded up and blocked out the daylight, and as Hazel stepped in, his feet touched built-up grime on the cold tile floor that sent chills up his spine. Is this what men's homes are like? he wondered.
He raised his nose to smell. The place was thick with smells of mold and decay.
This place must have more than one exit, like a warren. I'm not certain, though—I don't know these man-places.
As Hazel's eyes adjusted, he looked around the entrance area. There was one door into the first floor, but when Hazel pushed his body into it, it didn't move. There was a staircase nearby, and with nowhere else to go Hazel set to climbing it.
He came to the top of the staircase, and from there could see another one leading up to the attic. Quite big homes, these men have, thought Hazel, already out of breath. He looked around at the doors on the second floor.
The hallway was divided in two by a set of bars, too close together for Hazel to fit through. Hazel didn't think much of it, and instead set to exploring the rooms he could reach for a way out.
The doors were all shut, except the one closest to the bars on the right side. Hazel pushed his way in slowly. The room was a guest bedroom with a connected bathroom, bed slightly disheveled and covered with dust and mold. Hazel went into the bathroom, looking for a way through. On the far wall was a conspicuous grandfather clock, and Hazel sniffed it and saw the edges of a hole on the other side. He tried to dig at it, but the clock was nailed in place and he couldn't get through. Embleer thing, he thought. Maybe there's another way.
He went back out into the hall. With all the other doors shut, there was nowhere to go but up the next set of stairs. Hazel climbed them and came up in the attic, which was full of junk and boxes. There was another set of bars dividing the attic in two, and another staircase going down on the other side. Climbing over the junk, Hazel came to the bars and saw a gate, slightly ajar and opening away from him. He sniffed around, then pushed his body into it—but as he did, a sudden force hit it from the other side, slamming it shut with a bang.
Startled, Hazel looked up and saw a young doe run into the darkness on the other side.
"Hoi!" he shouted, but the doe was long gone.
Who was that? Another rabbit in a place like this?
He sat motionless. He pushed against the door again, but it stayed shut, perplexing Hazel. How men live in these places, I don't know, he thought.
He took a look around the attic, and moved about in the junk—but not immediately toward the stairs. He decided to look around for a bit and see if he could find a clue as to how to get out of there. The thick, musty scent of the attic began to cloud his senses, and after climbing through junk for several minutes he began to feel almost lulled to sleep by it. His mind wandered, and the room began to feel bigger and bigger.
He reached a far wall, which was bare except for some words scratched into it. These are those lines men make. Like the ones on the signpost. He didn't know what they meant, but through the attic's musty scent still filling his senses, he could feel a twinge of familiarity as the words swirled. He could hear them in his head: Follow me, Hazel-rah. Follow me, Hazel-rah. Follow me, Hazel-rah.
Hazel jolted. Suddenly he was wide awake, and the room shrank to its original size. The words in his head left him so suddenly that he felt a slight pain. Suddenly his heart was racing, and he was thinking of Fiver. Follow me, repeated Hazel. Who could that be? Fiver?
He stood up on his haunches looking for the staircase, and found it immediately.
I've got to find him. But with this way shut, where else can I go? he thought.
He headed back down the stairs, the determination was hot inside him. But as he came to the second floor hallway, he heard a scream that made him tharn. It was a male rabbit scream, and it came from down the hallway.
What was that? thought Hazel. He sat hesitant, afraid to go on—but he also felt he had to investigate, that ahead may lie some answer. He moved cautiously down the hallway, but as the bars came into view he saw something that made his heart sink.
A massive crow, nearly twice the size of Hazel, was sitting on the other side of the bars. Her head was skinless, exposing a skull with empty eye sockets. Hazel sat tharn, but the crow made no movements, only sat with head pointed directly in Hazel's direction. Eventually, Hazel was able to take a step towards the crow. She didn't move. Hazel began to slowly make his way down the hallway, fighting all instinct. The crow sat completely still until Hazel slipped through the doorway.
Heart racing, Hazel went swiftly through the bedroom into the bathroom. Inside was a dead rabbit, about the same size and color as Hazel, with his face completely ripped off. Hazel recoiled. Who could've...
Next to him, the grandfather clock was tipped against the wall, and the hole was exposed.
It looks like I can get through to the other side, Hazel though. But that crow is waiting for me there. Oh Frith, what should I do?
The hole was barely big enough for Hazel to squeeze his body through, and as he looked at it the room seemed to turn read, and he felt a soft pulsing.
Follow me, Hazel-rah, Hazel remembered, and the determination he had felt returned to him. I've got to do it, no matter what waits on the other side, and he squeezed his body into the hole.
After crawling through total darkness for a few moments, he came out the other side, pushing his way into a bathroom that looked much the same as the one on the other side.
Hazel swallowed his fears and poked his head into the adjacent bedroom. There was nothing. But his heart quickened as he faced the ajar door to the hallway. Slowly, he pushed his head through the door and looked around. He was on the other side of the bars, but the crow was gone. Nothing moved.
Hazel did not let his guard down. He stepped into the hallway and headed to the end, where he found the staircase heading up to the attic.
Hazel ascended and stepped cautiously into the attic. The crow was there, sitting perched atop the still-twitching body of another rabbit. Hazel went tharn as he watched the crow struggle with the rabbit and peck it, finally grabbing a tendon with her beak and ripping it out. Suddenly the attic door fell shut on the stairs as if sucked down. Hazel jumped, and the crow snapped her head in Hazel's direction.
She stepped off the body of the rabbit at a lumbering pace, leaving it limp. Hazel stood tharn as she approached, nowhere to run. Suddenly, she wavered as if struck and held her head down for a few long moments. She took flight, the attic door blew open again and the bird clumsily flew down the stairs.
Hazel sat completely still. Why did she let me go? he thought. Finally he was able to move and stepped back down the stairs.
On the second floor, the door directly opposite the stairwell was now open. This is the last way to go in this place. Is it the way that crow went? Well, no matter what I've got to see what's on the other side. He prepared himself, and entered the room.
It was indeed another stairwell going down. But stepping in, Hazel saw that it was flooded with water, and the floor was wire mesh that hurt Hazel's paws. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him, and startled by the noise Hazel whipped around and saw the crow perched on a ledge in the top corner of the room.
Hazel immediately pushed on the door again, but it didn't open. Panicking, he backed up, and the crow swooped down at him. Hazel dove to the side, and the crow sailed past him and up to the opposite corner of the room. Hazel was in the middle of the room, looking around desperately for something to take cover behind. But there was nothing, and he dove to the side again as the crow swooped at him a second time.
The crow perched on her original ledge, then flew down and landed on the floor. Talons gripping the wires, she walked toward Hazel at the same lumbering pace as before, and Hazel backed up slowly. When the crow came close enough, she pecked—and Hazel jumped backwards, then immediately dashed sideways, running along the wall to the opposite side. The crow turned around in place and let out an ear-splitting caw. Hazel hunched, and the crow began her approach again.
Hazel stood his ground, letting the crow come in close, then dashed again to his original position. The crow turned around, let out another caw, and approached again. It seems I can keep my distance this way, but how long can I keep this up?
Hazel dashed a third time, then stood still. I've got to fight back. It's the only way to end this. The crow turned around and cawed again, but instead of approaching as usual, she gave Hazel a look, then took flight and hovered in the air for a few seconds. Hazel braced himself, and when she dove at Hazel he himself dove to the side and let her crash into the wall, her exposed skull hitting it with a crack. Then Hazel kicked her as hard as he could.
The crow was thrown back with a loud caw. But suddenly she stood back up and flew straight into Hazel, driving the top of her head into his stomach and sending him collapsing into a heap. She towered over him as he lay dazed, pinning him down. But rather than peck, she just looked at him, then gave out a loud caw, louder and longer than any before. Hazel's dizzy head blurring with the sound. As he hunched up, he realized that the water was receding. The crow turned around and began walking down the stairs, gripping the wires on each step with a talon, and left Hazel collapsed in a heap at the top of the stairwell.
She left, he thought. But he had not the energy to wonder why.
Once he had caught his breath, he picked himself up and headed down the stairwell, carefully making his way down the wet stairs. The first floor was open and empty, and Hazel hopped without obstacle through the kitchen and laundry room out the back door, where the sun shown through the thick fog exactly as when he went in.
I made it, he said to himself.