After the caravan set off, pulled by a few dozen rabbits and guarded by three of the burrow's warriors, life for the Hopps clan returned to normal. Which meant that the debate about whether to bring in the harvest early resumed, fueled by the previous week being spent examining the signs and portents, both natural and otherwise. Eventually the farming faction that had been for an early harvest won a partial victory after Stewart waded in and settled the matter with a compromise, and the decision was made that the wheat and bean crops, being more susceptible to frost, would be brought in early. The next few days were a bustle of activity, with every rabbit old enough to understand the concept of carrying something from point A to point B joining in the effort. Even the warriors joined in, out of custom rather than obligation, and once Judy had stripped down to her breeches and undershirt and thrown herself into hauling, Nick disregarded his own misgivings about manual labour and joined in himself. There was an almost celebratory undercurrent to it all, and harvest songs broke out apparently spontaneously and in moments were being sung by the entire clan in unison, almost six hundred voices united in songs, before fading away as the song ended to be replaced by industrious quiet.

The backbreaking effort of reaping, bundling and storing it all didn't damage the jubilant mood, in no small part thanks to barrel after barrel from the clan's cellars being broached for all to slake their thirsts. Beer and wine for any of the adults who fancied and any of the kits brave enough to try, and elderflower cordial and mulled cider for everyone else, all still cool from the cellars.

In the wheat fields, activity was centered around the precious few bronze sickles, the wielders of which were steadily rotated so that they didn't have a chance for their speed to drop. Each of the warriors took a turn, and allowed themselves to be subject to good-natured ribbing when they didn't last as long as the most experienced farmhands. In their trail, a swarm of rabbits with sharp bone or stone knives separated the heads off each stalk, collecting them in baskets and bags to be taken away for storage. Others gathered up the wheat stalks that were severed at both ends but still mostly whole to use to act as bedding. And as each field was completed, the clan's chickens were unleashed upon it to scratch the unused and fragmented wheat stalks back into the soil as they feasted upon loose grains and displaced insects.

Over in the bean fields, most of the kits laboured, being able to pluck all but the uppermost bean pods right off the plant unassisted. Many of the beans ended up in the kits' bellies rather than in the baskets, but that was part of the harvest as much as the songs and the drinking, and their appetites were barely enough to put a dent in the total, even after they started delivering them as snacks to the adults working in the wheat fields. Those that weren't eaten were delivered to the kitchens, where they were shelled and blanched before being delivered to the deepest, coolest part of the clan larders, where they would last up to a year if bugs, moisture and mold didn't get to them.

All in all, it was very satisfying work, which surprised Nick. Truth be told he wasn't working as hard as most, since he spent most of his time occupied with whetstones resharpening scythes and knives, as well as drinking rabbit-sized flagon after flagon delivered to him by his entourage of rabbit kits, who were fascinated by the amount he could drink. Though most of it was cider and cordial, the kits managed to get their paws on enough beer and wine that by the end of each day he was comfortably tipsy enough that he happily joined in in hauling sacks of wheat heads from the fields to the burrow, and did his best to join in on the harvest songs after he started to pick up the words.

Each day as the sun went down and the rabbits moved back into the burrow, they all assembled in the main hall, packed shoulder to shoulder along the tables and feasting on fresh vegetables, newly-baked bread and whole roasted chicken. Though of course he delighted in the chicken, Nick's memory of having absolutely nothing to eat had left him willing to try anything. He had quickly discovered that some parts of the rabbit diet were just plain incompatible with him, but found a particular liking for fresh vegetables, and beans that had been on the plant mere hours before were no exception. Nobody had commented on him, at Judy's urging, joining the rest of the clan at the tables for the harvest feasting. But he had attracted some sideways looks, and a few of his closer watchers had noticeably relaxed at his obvious enjoyment of fresh vegetables.

And after dinner, when he curled up in front of the roaring fire and was quickly covered in kits who had decided that he'd make a good spot to nap after feasting, he could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on him, but nobody objected or tried to separate him from the children. And he had a smile on his face as he slipped into a nap of his own.

Author's note: Wheat would be a fairly different crop for bunnies than it is for humans. The much larger relative size would make threshing by hand (well, by paw) viable, and besides that they can eat the chaff (the hard shell around the seed), though more for roughage than nutritional value. This also means they don't have to come up with a clever way to separate the wheat from the chaff either. So they're storing the entire head of the wheat stalk, and leaving the rest of it in the field to be plowed back in, since they've got no ruminant livestock to feed the hay to - rabbits can eat hay, but I'm applying more refined tastes to these bunnies.

Mankind, on the other hand, finds the chaff to be the useless stuff, since the stalk can be fed to livestock as hay. Before we built machines to do it for us, separating the wheat from the chaff was a difficult and time-consuming process that pretty much boiled down to hitting a bushel of wheat with a long wooden flail for about an hour to loosen the chaff, then using wind or a fan to blow the chaff away. In pre-industrial society, an entire quarter of agricultural labour was dedicated just to doing this.

Agricultural history buffs might be tempted to blast me for the inclusion of 'bush beans', beans that grow without support, which are a very modern development. Do you think so little of me that I'd have these quite Celtic rabbits growing Mesoamerican beans? These are obviously the broad bean, Vicia faba, rather than any 'true' bean of the Phaseolus genus. And broad beans grow unsupported. So there.

(I know this chapter is short, but it's a necessary set-up for the events of the next chapter)