Alan sunk to his knees, shell-shocked, as the answer to all this mystery finally came to light: This strange world was the future – a future where giant, humanoid rabbits now ruled the earth as the new intelligent beings, with human civilisation long gone and forgotten. No more overexploitation of natural resources, no more industrial pollution, no more barren wastelands caused by nuclear and chemical warfare, and no more species hunted into extinction. The world had become something of a natural utopia, where these intelligent, yet nature-friendly creatures lived in peaceful harmony with Mother Nature.

Although enlightened to finally have some questions answered, Alan's mind was now filled to bursting with a whole new set of questions. What could have caused the disappearance of humans? How could a species, which had endured and evolved for hundreds of millennia, suddenly just cease to exist, literally fading into oblivion? His rabbit friends claimed they hadn't so much as heard of intelligent humans before, yet they spoke English and Lapine – both of which languages obviously originated from man. And where had these creatures originated from in the first place? The solving of one mystery had only led to another, much bigger puzzle.

However, at least now he knew one thing for certain: he was trapped in the future with no way of getting back to his own world. There was no walking out of this place, because there was in fact nowhere to go. Time had wiped out everything and everyone he'd ever known. He was like a mammoth suddenly resurfacing out of an ice glacier in the unfamiliar world of the future, with his own kind long extinct. Fighting the urge to be sick at this horrible realisation, he turned away from the church ruins and fell to his knees.

Noticing his distress, Pipkin nudged his friend in the side, "What's wrong, Alan? Why do you look so troubled?" It took a good long while for Alan, still in a state of shock, to get his voice back and answer him.

"Oh Pipkin, the truth has been right under my nose all along. I'm not from another world, I'm from the past – your past!" Seeing his little friend's blank expression, he explained.

"Long ago, another world existed here, a world dominated by humans, like me," he said, pointing at the church ruins, "At some point, long ago, that world was somehow destroyed and your world rose from the ashes of the old – only time moved on without me when I flew through that storm that brought me here, which is why I'm still around to see this. Everything and everyone I ever knew is gone forever. Oh, God…"

Although Pipkin couldn't make much sense of Alan's gibberish, he could feel for his human friend's despair. Tenderly, he nuzzled him on the shoulder, "Alan, you still have us; we too are outcasts, lost and without a home. It doesn't matter if you're a human; you're one of us now!"

Alan smiled at his little friend's kind words, gratefully stroking the dwarf rabbit between the ears. Indeed, although completely unprepared for this, what did he have back in his own time that he would solely miss? Nothing whatsoever. With his family dead, his life had become pointless. Here, on the other hand, he felt more alive than ever before.

Besides his newfound friends and a renewed will to go on living, he also had a whole new world to himself. This place was the wildest dream of any adventurer, come true! The philosophical phrase from Adams' book, 'Be cunning and full of tricks and your people will never be destroyed' felt almost like a encouraging message to him, given that he was now in exactly the same position as the characters in the story: lost, uncertain, and with his life turned upside-down, forcing him to start over, with only his wits – and of course the friendship and companionship of his rabbit friends – to help him along the way. And now that he knew the truth, that was precisely what he intended to do.

Suddenly, the pair was startled by a blood-curdling scream. Staring overhead, they saw a hawk – probably the same one that had attacked them earlier out on the river – flying over the trees, clutching the screaming figure of a rabbit in its massive talons. The flying predator, large as a small plane, was struggling with the weight of its prey, as it furiously flapped its broad wings to stay aloft. But it was too much. Suddenly, it lost its grip, dropping its prize into the trees below. Alan and Pipkin rushed to the rescue.

The poor rabbit's screams ceased as she came crashing through the treetops, plummeting to certain death. Alan leapt forward and was knocked to the ground, almost squashed flat by the rabbit's weight, barely managing to break her otherwise deadly fall.

His hands and clothes all stained in her blood, Alan shakily turned to look at the injured rabbit lying in the grass. He and Pipkin both gasped as they recognised Violet. The poor doe had been viciously mauled by the hawk's talons as well as from her fall through the treetops, leaving her barely conscious and in a bad state of shock, yet miraculously still alive. But this was no time to rejoice, because the hawk had turned around and was about to make another run. Alan hurryingly picked up the semiconscious Violet in his arms, shouting to Pipkin.

"Run for it!"

They ran as fast as they could across the graveyard, towards the nearest refuge: the church. The doorway was completely obscured by overgrown vegetation and fallen debris, leaving just a hole in the semi-collapsed wall as the only entrance. Ushering Pipkin and Violet inside, Alan barely managed to squeeze in himself, before the hawk's sweeping talons scrapped the spot where he'd been crouching not a second ago. Pushing a large boulder over the hole, he sealed them in. For a few seconds they could hear the hawk circling outside, waiting for them to come out, until its angry screeching died down and they knew it had flown away.

Alan breathed a sigh of relief, "Close shave that one. Are you all right, lad?" Pipkin too, although shaken and out of breath, was unharmed. But Violet was another story.

Turning the wounded doe over, Alan patted her down; there were some deep gashes on her back from where the hawk's razor-sharp talons had gripped her, in addition to numerous other scratches and bruises, but fortunately no broken bones or any other life-threatening injuries. Although she didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, she would definitely need some rest and treatment for shock. Then, Alan suddenly realised something.

If the hawk snatched Violet from somewhere close by, then the others can't be very far away. We have to find them, before that hawk goes back for more. Making up his mind, he turned to Pipkin, "Pipkin, I want you to stay here with Violet, while I go and see if the others are close by." Just as he suspected, Pipkin wasn't too keen on being left alone.

"Alan, please don't leave me…"

"It's all right, laddie. I promise you I'll be back very soon," he said encouragingly, patting the dwarf rabbit on the head. Without another word, he turned and crawled out through the hole. Making sure the coast was clear, he rushed into the direction from where the hawk had come, every few seconds glancing skywards, expecting that flying monster to come dropping out of the sky again at any minute, and make him its next meal…

Meanwhile, the Sandleford rabbits, Derek, Robbins and McEwen stood on the edge of a weed field, staring skywards, looking absolutely horrified. It had happened so fast. One minute, they had been resting, when suddenly, Violet had been snatched away by that hawk before their very eyes. Their second loss in two days.

Following some heated debate after last night's argument, the rabbits had reluctantly agreed to follow the humans to Newtown Common instead. They had been trekking east all morning, looking for McEwen's hometown, but, just as Derek had feared, they couldn't find any trace of it. Finally, after going round in circles for hours, finding nothing, they'd decided to stop and rest.

Violet had briefly wandered away from the rest of the group to nibble at a delicious-looking patch of clover she'd found nearby. Unfortunately, due to her inexperience in travelling such a long distance from the warren for the first time, she had completely forgotten the Owsla's number one safety rule: to always rest under the cover of a tree or a bush, never out in the open, where one's completely exposed and unprotected. Fiver's yelling at her to take cover had come a second too late; the hawk had appeared out of nowhere and snatched her away, with them forced to listen to her terrified screams, powerless to help her. Whatever hopes the group had had of reaching someplace safe were instantly shattered.

"Alan and Pipkin lost; and now Violet's gone too. How many more of us must die?" asked a distressed Acorn. This quest of theirs to reach these rumoured 'high hills where the wind carries every whisper' was beginning to look like a really bad idea. Silver and, curiously, Speedwell, had taken it hardest of all, venting their anger and grief out on a distraught Bluebell.

"Where were you? Why weren't you there to protect her…?" Silver was glaring daggers at Bluebell, who was sobbing softly, his usual humorous spirit completely gone. Silver's anger was no mystery – after all, he was Violet's brother and Bluebell failing to protect her was an inexcusable mistake! Speedwell's attitude was no less angry. The buck's eyes were narrowed to slits, filled with rage and grief, as he rounded on his cousin.

"You careless bastard! I knew you weren't good enough for her! I pleaded with her so many times, that you weren't trustworthy and now she's dead! You killed her! You killed her! You…" He broke down sobbing, unable to continue berating Bluebell, as his twin, also glaring daggers at the distraught buck, tried in vain to calm his brother. Bluebell seemed even more crushed by his cousin's harsh words. Little did they realise that good news awaited just ten feet away…

"I say, aren't you being a bit too harsh on him, Speedwell?" asked Alan, emerging from the trees, catching them all by surprise. The rabbits all jumped in shock at his voice, as they turned to see their missing friend standing alive and well before them. There was a moment of silence before they all tackled him to the ground, nuzzling him with joy and delight, Derek and McEwen following suit. Robbins only stood petrified with disbelief and – unbeknownst to everyone – deep disappointment.

That stubborn bastard has got more lives than a bloody cat!

"Alan! You bloody bastard, I knew you were alive!" said Derek, literally on fire with excitement, slapping his childhood friend on the shoulder. McEwen, right beside Derek, beamed at him, "That was a display of admirable courage you put on back there, professor. Well worthy of a true soldier…" Only Bluebell, Speedwell and Silver were not rejoicing, still overwhelmed with grief for the loss of Violet, hardly registering Alan's safe return.

"What about Pipkin?"

The man smiled, "Did you think I'd save myself and let him drown? He's safe and sound too." More cheers and applause broke out amongst the group at the news. "Where is he then? How in Frith's name did you…?"

"He's waiting back there with Violet," said Alan, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of the church. This caused the group to gasp in shock. How far could a miracle go in one day? Bluebell lunged at Alan, pinning him to the ground, his tearful eyes staring deeply into Alan's,

"Violet is alive? Where is she? Is she hurt? Damn you, ithe, tell me!" he yelled desperately, his heavy paws pressing hard into Alan's chest, making him feel as if he was about to be squashed flat like a pancake.

"If you kindly let me up, I'll take you to her," the man groaned indignantly, finding it difficult to breathe under Bluebell's massive weight. Giant rabbits certainly didn't make good cuddling pets. "Now get off me!" Finally, the distraught rabbit reluctantly complied and they all followed Alan back to the church ruins.

Bluebell went in first ahead of the others, impatient to see Violet. Following them in, Alan saw the wounded doe had regained consciousness. Bluebell had thrown himself at Violet and the couple were lovingly touching noses, the jester buck shedding tears of joy at finding his mate safe and sound.

"Oh, Violet, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left my guard down…" Beside him, Silver was busy, tenderly licking Violet's wounds clean, "Frith is definitely watching over you today, dear sister," he said, "Few rabbits have ever survived a hawk attack. How ever did you do it?"

"I…I don't know," stammered the doe, wincing from the pain, "The last thing I remember is falling… When I opened my eyes, I was lying here and Hlao-roo was bending over me. I thought I was either dead or dreaming. He kept saying that the ithe had saved me…" The rabbits all turned to look at Alan, giving him a grateful look, which the man returned with a smile. Saving Violet, their only doe, was one favour they couldn't possibly repay. Only Speedwell wasn't smiling, watching his cousin lovingly nuzzle Violet, feeling bitter and completely heartbroken.

McEwen hurried over, bringing the medical kit from the chopper. Alan and Derek hurried over to land a hand, "How is she doing?"

"Better than what I would have expected for someone given a ride by a giant hawk, followed by a free fall without a parachute," said the pilot, who was busy applying bandages and disinfectant, without looking up from his work, "Some cuts and bruises and one hell of a shock, but nothing I can't fix." He gave Violet a shot, which they thought was a sedative. Alan frowned at the aviator's confidence.

"Since when did you become a veterinarian, Major? You do realise human and animal medicine are two entirely different branches…"

"Fourteen years of marriage to the finest veterinarian in England can teach you loads," explained McEwen with a smile, "My wife is the veterinarian of Newtown Common. Half the farmers in the county are in her debt, for keeping their livestock fit and healthy…" Alan turned away, feeling rather uneasy; pretty soon, he would have to inform his companions that they were trapped in the future. There was no telling how badly McEwen would take the news that his family were in fact long dead. Leaving him to tend to Violet, he wandered away to inspect their new shelter.

The interior of the old church, although still recognisable, had suffered considerable decay over the centuries. Weeds, moss and ivy had sprouted from cracks in the mortar all over the walls and floor, coating the whole place in thick vegetation, giving it the appearance of an unattended indoor garden rather than a church.

Most of the windows were broken, yet a few stain-glass panels still remained attached to their corroded metal frames, sparkling in the sunlight shining through. A large patch of sky could be seen through a gaping hole above their heads where the roof had once been. The wooden choirs and stands that once stood in rows before the alter had long since rotted away.

Walking through a side archway, he found himself at the bottom of the bell tower. The top of the tower had collapsed long ago, the large brass bell now lying overturned on the bottom like a giant goblet, which had turned green with age.

Now that he knew what this place was, Alan saw it in a whole new light. He wondered how many structures like this were left out there. Which of mankind's greatest monuments had survived? Perhaps some kind of civilisation had also survived somewhere? He had no way of knowing. Tired of his thoughts, he rejoined his companions in the main chamber. The time had come for explanations – including some bad news for both parties.

Meanwhile, the rabbits were staring curiously at their strange surroundings, wondering who – or rather what – had built this amazing, surface 'man-warren' they were holed up in. The newly awoken Pimpernel, who had finally regained consciousness the previous night, was staring around in confusion, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot. Although the Owsla scout was recovering fine, it would take some time until his concussion had cleared. The buck staggered and stumbled with each step, completely disorientated – a condition which was likely to persist for a while, until the swelling in his brain went down. Every now and then, he'd wonder off without realising, forcing the others to take turns watching him and bringing him back if he strayed too far.

Once they were all assembled, Alan told them everything. How he had saved Pipkin from drowning; their run-in with the Wide Patrol; the discovery of the church ruins, which was all that was left of McEwen's vanished hometown, and the realization that they had somehow time-jumped into the future; and finally, Violet's lucky escape from the hawk. As he had expected, everyone – namely his three companions – were struck dumb with shock and disbelief. McEwen, in particular, didn't seem to be taking the news well at all.

"So if this is the far future, then this means we will never see our homes and families again?" asked the pilot, looking as if he had been punched in the gut, "My wife and son gone…dead for centuries…" He wasn't a man to shy away from the truth; and the evidence of his oddly familiar surroundings was all the proof he needed to know Dr Johnson was right.

Robbins was looking as if someone had just told him his house had been burned to the ground, muttering curses under his breath. Alan couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of pity for the man; although he was a pompous, arrogant hindrance to them all, he didn't deserve to be in this situation.

"How far in the future do you reckon we are?" asked Derek, trying to be more optimistic of their situation.

"Hard to say... Five hundred years, a thousand, perhaps even longer," said Alan, shaking his head, "Without any further leads to tell us what happened to civilisation, there's no way to be certain."

"This is impossible!" said Robbins, unable to accept what he was hearing, "The world can't have just been wiped out! It can't!"

Alan knew it would take some time for his companions to absorb all this, but the sooner they came to grips with the truth, the easier it would be for all of them. Whatever happened now, they had to keep going or else they were as good as done for. He had to offer them some kind of encouragement, something to hope for.

"We must face facts, my friends," he said, "Time has wiped out everything and everyone we ever knew. And since we have no way of getting back, we have no choice but to start over. Personally, I intend to rebuild my life for the better…" Feeling like the new Hank Morgan in King Arthur's Court, given that his knowledge and that of his companions' far exceeded that of their rabbit friends, Alan knew they were being presented with a great opportunity for a new life. Others, like McEwen, however, were not prepared to accept their fate.

"Surely there must be some way to reverse the process that brought us here. You said your plane is still intact?" Alan nodded, "Well, perhaps if we wait until the summer, when the marshes dry up, we could try and tow her out, make repairs, and retrace our original course? It just might get us back…" Alan shook his head.

"Perhaps, but we still have no way of knowing whatever it was that brought us here can be reversed at all, or even if it will still work by then. Either way, I'm not going back." The men stared at Alan, thinking he had gone mad.

"This is insane, professor!" gasped McEwen, "You can't stay here forever! You don't belong here – none of us do. Have you flipped your marbles…?"

"My mind is made up, Major. You, Robbins and Derek may go if you wish, but I'm staying. I've been given this chance for a new beginning and I'm not turning it down," he said, turning to smile at his rabbit friends who smiled back, their feelings for wanting him to stay mutual. Derek, although likewise sceptical of his friend's crazy decision to stay in this world forever, couldn't suppress a smile, realising Alan had finally found the will to go on living.

"What about those ruffians that attacked you?" asked Bigwig, bringing them back on track, "Does this mean Efrafa is real then?" Alan nodded.

"Yes, and they mean serious business if they find us," he said with a frown, "That scumbag Vervain spoke Woundwort's name several times. When I refused to surrender to his so-called glory, he ordered us killed instead – only I gave them their just deserts," he added with a triumphant smirk, explaining how he had sent Vervain and his henchmen fleeing in defeat, like mice before a cat.

"You gave those scumbags a taste of their own poison?" asked Bigwig, looking very impressed, "I bet that Chief of theirs, Woundwort won't be too pleased when he hears that they were bested by an ithe. Good for you, chum!" Others however were quick to grasp the seriousness of the situation. The presence of a Wide Patrol in the area meant, soon or later, there could be others, many others.

"We'd better be more careful from here on," said Hazel, as if reading Alan's mind, "We need to get to the high hills as soon as possible, to dig a new warren, so that we have a safe refuge."

"He's right," said Holly, "And we can't risk being spotted and followed on the way. We shall have to stay on our guard at all times from now on. We'll take turns standing watch every night so we aren't caught unawares in our sleep…" Alan wanted to point out that it would probably take much more than simply hiding to evade Efrafa, but decided to leave it for now. They had already had more than enough excitement for one day.

With Violet still injured and needing plenty of rest before she was fit to travel, they decided to camp in the ruins for the night and press on the next morning. The rabbits went about, gathering straw for their bedding, while the men gathered wood for a campfire. Pretty soon they had a roaring fire going, using the gaping hole in the collapsed roof to vent out the smoke and turning the ruined church into a more-or-less comfortable dwelling for the night.

Later that evening, Alan sat outside, on watch, thinking about his future. Once he'd got his companions safely to Watership Down, he would have to start making plans for himself. Now that he knew he was here to stay, he would have to adjust to life in this future world, to ensure his survival. He knew he lacked many important resources, such as weapons or tools. With only his practical skills, academic knowledge and whatever resources he could obtain from the surrounding environment, it would be a long shot building some sort of life for himself and his companions, which would take a lot of time and effort.

His mind kept going over the countless things they needed; guns with plenty of ammunition for hunting and protection, tools for building, encyclopaedias on all fields of knowledge to help him in his endeavours… The list was practically endless. Unfortunately, he had no gun or encyclopaedia, or any of even the simplest of things to make life bearable. He didn't even have suitableclothing for this wilderness, his city clothes quickly yielding to the harshness of this untamed environment. With nothing other than his brains to work with would mean literally rebuilding everything from scratch. He was thankful that, at least, he had the support of his rabbit friends; to survive in this strange world of theirs he needed their help greatly, just as much as they needed his.

He was busy making some notes in his pad when he realised he had company. Turning, he saw Violet standing there, looking rather shy in his presence. The dressings McEwen had applied to patch up her injuries gave her a rather comical look, Alan thought, with those all alien bandages and sterile pads plastered all over her body, yet did not impair her stunning beauty in the slightest. The doe continued to stare at Alan with her deep blue eyes, which could melt an iceberg.

"Oh, hallo. Feeling better?"

"Yes, the pain's lessened already," replied the stunning doe softly, sitting down beside him. Alan had heard from Derek how she hadn't wanted to continue on this journey with them, because apparently she didn't trust them. No doubt his saving her life had changed her opinion on the matter, Alan thought. He stared back at the beautiful doe.

"Well, that's good to hear. You know, you should be resting. We still have a long journey ahead of us…"

"I never got a chance to thank you," said Violet, finally regaining her confidence. Alan nodded curtly, "Don't mention it. I didn't do much really; if that hawk hadn't lost its grip on you, I wouldn't have been able to help you..." Violet however felt a much stronger sense of gratitude than he thought. She fixed him with a warm gaze.

"If you hadn't been down there to catch me and drag me to safety, I would have been in the Shadowlands now. I owe you my life – me and my unborn children." That probably explained why she had been so reluctant to join them on this escapade, Alan thought. A pregnant mother doe, if feeling threatened or stressed could 'reabsorb' her unborn litter, or else result in a stillbirth. Looking at her now, he could clearly see she was heavy with young, probably only a few days due. "I'll never forget that. Thank you."

Alan gave her a warm smile, "You're welcome. But how come you didn't trust me when all the others did? Nothing personal, mind you," he added hastily, hoping he didn't offend her. After getting Holly's group out of that living tomb, he had quickly earned the trust of all the rabbits; only Violet and, to lesser extent, Blackberry had remained distant, still uncertain of his trustworthiness. Although thankfully not offended at the question, the doe still seemed hesitant to answer but, finally her sense of gratitude overpowered and she spilled the beans.

"When Thinial was struck by the White Blindness unleashed by that brutish stranger from the Dark Territory, many of our own people, including my and Silver's mother Flyairth – the Threarah's sister – also became infected and were driven out to die. We were just kittens then. Oh Frith, it was so terrible..." She broke down, sobbing at the memory. Alan bent down and put a comforting hand around her, as she continued her story.

"Like my Uncle, the incident left me completely distrustful of strangers, not to mention humans – supposedly one of our worst natural enemies. It's just… I didn't know what to think, with our warren suddenly destroyed by man and everyone claiming you were our only hope of getting us someplace safe. I felt like we were making a pact with the Black Rabbit of Inle... I'm so sorry…please forgive me…"

"No hard feelings. I understand entirely how hard it must have been for you," Alan reassured her, remembering what Holly had told him the other day. He wondered in the back of his mind, what kind of a sick rabbit would have the stomach do something so low, and against his own kind nonetheless? Not someone he'd care to meet, that's for sure. Violet smiled warmly, nuzzling him in gratitude.

"Thank you, Alan."

Suddenly, an amused voice interrupted them, "Well, well, my dearest Violet, what would your poor Uncle say if he could see you now? His beloved niece, cheating on her own mate with a human! Tsk tsk…" The pair turned to see Bluebell staring at them with a mischievous grin on his face. Violet hurryingly pulled away from Alan in embarrassment.

"Bluebell, this isn't what you think it is! And I said I wanted to talk to him alone…" But Bluebell, thoroughly amused by his mate's embarrassment, was determined to push it further, "Tut tut, feisty aren't we?" Violet was getting really annoyed now, "Bluebell, enough teasing!" The jester buck raised an eyebrow.

"Temper, temper. I know just the way to help you cool down…" In one swift tackle, he pinned his mate to the ground and began playfully nuzzling her sides. Violet exploded into fits of giggles.

"Bluebell stop! That tickles!"

Finally, Bluebell relented and the loving couple picked themselves up from the ground, laughing. Alan sat watching them, admiring the strong bond between them. The buck turned to Alan, "I also owe you an enormous gratitude; Violet and I will always be in your debt." Alan nodded curtly.

"Don't mention it. You know, you're one hell of a lucky buck Bluebell, scoring a beauty like her. Congratulations." To Alan's astonishment however, Bluebell's smiling face fell at the compliment, "I wish my cousin Speedwell felt the same way…" Could this have something to do with Speedwell's peculiar attitude earlier, Alan wondered. Although he disliked prying into someone else's business, he couldn't resist his curiosity any longer and asked.

"What happened?"

Asking his mate for some privacy, Bluebell explained, "I was not always Violet's love interest. She was originally meant to be my cousin Speedwell's mate. However, their relationship ended badly."

"One day, when Speedwell was still a cadet in training, he was assigned a risky night patrol, as part of his officer training for the Owsla. However, Violet was against him taking on such a dangerous assignment. Too ambitious to throw away his officer's rank, Speedwell asked Buckthorn, who is his perfect lookalike, to pose as him so he could undertake the assignment without Violet ever knowing. Unfortunately, she chose that night to be their mating night. Buckthorn, not willing to betray his brother, was forced to confess the whole scheme."

"I suppose she was furious with this little deception, right?"

"Violet, feeling betrayed and heartbroken, never spoke to Speedwell again. He begged her and begged her for forgiveness but she would never hear him out. Eventually, she turned to me for comfort; I think it was the fact that I made her laugh with my jokes, something she greatly needed at the time. Finally, she decided to mate with me instead and I accepted."

"And I take it Speedwell wasn't too happy about this turnout, right?" Alan asked. Bluebell nodded, "Speedwell believed I took advantage of his mistake – and perhaps I did – and denounced me as his cousin; Buckthorn also sided with him on this. We haven't spoken to each other since, although we've served for seasons together in the Owsla." Alan didn't know what to make of this mess that Speedwell had made of his life.

"Well, although I agree that it was Speedwell's own fault with that little scheme of his, I understand how he must feel – I, too, lost one of my oldest friends the same way over the girl that became my wife," he said, remembering back from his college years when he had first met Mary, who had originally been the girlfriend of a former childhood friend of his, now long deceased. Although Alan had found true love, it had inevitably cost him his friendship with his old friend Ronald Fields who, feeling betrayed, had never spoken to Alan again. No doubt, Bluebell was in a similar dilemma; he had won Violet's heart, but lost his cousin in the process.

They continued chatting a while longer, until Bluebell turned to go back inside, to be with Violet. Alan returned to admiring the landscape, with the setting sun on the horizon… Suddenly, his eyes happened to glance upon a nearby tombstone. The name on the granite slab nearly took his breath away:

REST IN PEACE

ALAN ALEXANDER JOHNSON

1978-2012

DIED IN A SUICIDAL PLANE CRASH

AFTER SUCCUMBING TO MENTAL BREAKDOWN

FROM THE TRAGIC LOSS OF HIS FAMILY IN 2011

Alan had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself from the sight of his own grave, which, unbeknownst to him, Sergey Petrograd had had made, following his disappearance long ago. Although he knew it was just a false, empty grave, it wasn't exactly the thing someone would ever like to gaze upon. He frowned at the outrageous inscription, realising that the world had branded him a suicidal psychopath to the end. A second tombstone beside it also bore a familiar inscription:

REST IN PEACE

DEREK ROBERT SHAW

1977-2012

PERISHED ALONGSIDE HIS FRIEND ALAN JOHNSON

Three headstones in total, bearing all of their names, minus Julio, McEwen and his crew, whose families must have 'buried' them elsewhere. Since Alan, Derek and Robbins had no family, it figured the authorities would take care of their funeral arrangements instead. Such an irony, Alan thought bitterly. As he bent down to read the inscription on the third headstone, which he knew belonged to Robbins, he read something that made his heart skip a beat:

REST IN PEACE

RUSSELL RONALD ROBBINS

1978-2012

REMEMBERED FOR HIS SERVICES TO... MI6 (?)

British Intelligence? Alan thought in alarm, What the hell does Robbins have to do with MI6? He looked again, thinking maybe he'd misread something. But no, it was right there, in front of his eyes; this tombstone registered Robbins as a secret government agent!Although it wasn't unheard of, sometimes for the most unlikely of people, to be posthumously revealed as former secret agents, Alan was suddenly struck with suspicion. Was Robbins really an active government spy at the time of his 'death'? What did he want with them? Could it have something to do with why they'd ended up stranded in this future world in the first place?

Turning, he hurried back to the church, intent on confronting Robbins with this new information and getting some answers out of that man. Entering, he found his companions sitting around the fire talking and resting, without a care in the world. McEwen sat alone in a corner, staring sadly at a photo of his long-dead family he kept in his wallet. Derek was learning to play Bobstones from Buckthorn, a master champion of the popular rabbit's game, but was proving to be a real poor pupil. Robbins sat in a shadowy corner, alone as usual, lost in his own thoughts…thoughts of what? Should Alan confront him right now?

Figuring it'd be best to handle this a little more discreetly, until he knew exactly what this was all about, he decided to have a word with the leading rabbits of their group first. Bigwig and Hazel weren't around, having gone out on a scouting patrol to secure the area. Careful not to attract Robbins' attention, he approached Holly instead, who was watching the Bobstone match with the others. He took him aside for a chat.

"What are doing off your post so early?" the former Owsla Captain demanded sharply, "Bigwig isn't due to relieve you until ni-Inle. If an Efrafan Wide Patrol sneaks up on us…!" But Alan gestured at him to quiet down.

"We have a problem, Holly," he said, whispering into his ear so Robbins couldn't hear him, "I think there might be a spy among us."

"A spy? Who? What in Frith's name you talking about?" asked the Owsla captain in alarm. Alan gestured in the direction of the unsuspecting Robbins, who was sitting with his back turned to them, suspecting nothing. "Robbins, an impostor? How do you know he…?"

"It's kind of complicated to explain… All I know is that he's hiding something from us – maybe something bad. I believe we should look into it." Holly, realising it would be a foolhardy idea to confront Robbins without even knowing who he really was or what he was up to, looked at him.

"So how do we go about this?"

Alan considered for a moment, "Wait until everyone is asleep, including Robbins. Then wake up Bigwig, Derek, McEwen, Hazel and Fiver. I'll meet you all outside. But don't breathe a word to anyone else yet. I don't want to stir up a fuss until we know exactly what's going on here. Until then, keep a close eye on Robbins, but act normally. I don't want him getting suspicious; we don't know what he might be capable of…"

Just after sundown, Holly met Alan outside, bringing with him Bigwig, Hazel, Derek, McEwen and Fiver, all looking drowsy and irate at being woken up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. Alan told them what he'd found out. All of them were struck dumb with shock and suspicion.

"I should have known that snake was up to no good!" snapped Derek incredulously, feeling like a complete fool for trusting Robbins in the first place.

"Robbins, a spy?" asked Bigwig incredulously, "A spy for who? You don't mean to say, he's working for the Efrafans...?"

"No, this has nothing to do with Efrafa, Bigwig," said Alan, who was fairly certain the long-vanished British government didn't have ties with a warren of humanoid rabbits centuries into the future, "But whatever he's hiding, or whether it concerns us or not, we're going to get it out of him soon enough. Let's go!"

They returned inside and approached the sleeping Robbins. The man lay deep in his slumber, oblivious to the fact that he'd been discovered. Protruding from his coat pocket, which he was using as a blanket, was the little voice recorder, which Alan had seen him use on several occasions throughout their journey. Maybe that could tell them something more.

Reaching out, he gently lifted it out of the man's pocket. Walking aside, he turned it on and held it to his ear on low volume, his friends huddling close to listen in. They all frowned as they listened to the random recordings in Robbins' voice, realising that man had in fact been watching and recording their every move all along! Every now and then, there was the occasional reference to something called 'Project Black Inferno', which made no sense to any of them. All Alan could deduce from all that gibberish was that Robbins was on some kind of mission. However, there were no details or hints as to who he was working for, or what he was after. Still, the playback confirmed he clearly wasn't who he claimed to be.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said with a frown, "This fellow's been bluffing us all along. It's about time we got to the bottom of this. Wake him up!" Derek kicked Robbins non-too-gently in the ribs. The man woke with a start, glaring back at them, annoyed at being woken up in such an undignified manner.

"What the meaning of this?" he demanded angrily, "What do you think you're doing…?"

"There's something we have to discuss," said Alan coldly. "On your feet, man!" They roughly pulled Robbins to his feet and led him outside, towards his own grave.

"Sit," said Alan, pointing to a stone that lay on the ground, opposite the incriminating gravestone. Robbins complied, as they all gathered around him, arms crossed. He glared back at them, now looking really annoyed.

"All right, what kind of prank is this? If you think you've got the right to wake me up like this in the dead of night, you've got another thing coming…!"

"Actually, it's you who's got something coming," said Alan coldly, crossing his arms, "Who are you really?" Robbins, probably assuming they had no evidence against him, replied coolly, "I'm a video documentarian for Road Show Documentaries; my job is to make documentaries. Why do you ask…?"

"Because that headstone over there just happens to mention that you are – or rather were – working for the British Secret Intelligence." Alan shone his flashlight on the gravestone, so Robbins could read the incriminating inscription, "Care to enlighten us?" The man frowned; the cat was indeed out of the bag. Yet, he managed to keep a straight face.

"I see you figured out my secret, huh? Fine, I'll tell you. Yes, I do indeed work for MI6, as a civilian Secret Intelligence operator. Because the details of my work are classified in the interest of national security, my papers list me as a documentarian, as part of my job…"

"No kidding, mate!" Derek snorted, "And what does the Secret Service want with us? What were you trying to find out by spying on us, whilst posing as a documentarian? Does it have anything to do with this…Project Black Inferno, or whatever you call it, mentioned in your recorder?" He held up the incriminating voice recorder, letting Robbins know that they already knew much more than he realised. The man gave him an angry glare for going through his personal belongings, as he forcefully snatched back the recorder and pocketed it.

"How dare you invade my privacy!" he bellowed, "You had no right to...!"

"We have every right to, if I think you're jeopardizing the safety and mutual trust of this group!" retorted Alan crossly, "So, what is this Project Black Inferno? Well, out with it!"

Robbins was silent for a moment. The damage was done all right; but maybe he could still salvage something. Thinking fast, he explained, "Project Black Inferno is the code name for a rumoured top-secret weapon – a relic from the war, with unheard-of catastrophic capabilities: a satellite probe powered by three unobtainium cores, recycled from leftover electromagnetic warheads. These cores are theoretically used to power an ion cannon, capable of beaming powerful electromagnetic pulses and microwave bursts. Using layman's terms, this device can literally 'cook' any desired target from orbit – a terrorist's perfect weapon of aggression against any…undesirable nation."

The group, humans and rabbits alike, looked appalled.

"Who would invent such a horrible thing?" Fiver gasped, looking absolutely horrified at the thought of such a vile contraption. Although the concept of technological and atomic warfare was completely unheard of in his world, the rabbits' only means of defence being their teeth, claws and physical strength, the horror and destruction such a weapon could unleash upon them hadn't slipped their minds. Not even the legendary Elrairah's Owsla, with more rabbits than stars in the sky, would be enough to keep them from being wiped out! Alan continued questioning Robbins.

"So what is the connection between us and this…this weapon? How does it involve us?" asked Alan, trying to piece everything together. Robbins continued on with his explanation.

"After China's surrender, a small stockpile of unobtainium warheads was hijacked and smuggled out of the country, along with the plans and components for the satellite. We believe a certain terrorist group was behind it; and we think they planned to use it for a pre-emptive strike against the entire Western World. Recently, the Bureau had been receiving hazy information that the satellite was being constructed secretly right here in England, out in the Dead Zone. So my superiors 'orchestrated' our flight; you were meant to be my cover for an inconspicuous surveillance operation…"

Finally, it was beginning to make some sense; Robbins was an undercover agent, doing surveillance, hoping to unravel a terrorists' weapons program. But why choose them of all people to be his cover? Surely the Secret Service could do better than that for such a delicate operation! Robbins continued with his explanation.

"My superiors had reason to believe that there was a mole stationed within our department, reporting our every move. If they even suspected we knew about Project Black Inferno, they would have relocated and we would have lost the trail. A charter plane carrying three ordinary civilians on a routine sightseeing trip would have hopefully gone unnoticed by the Red Hand Brotherhood…"

"The Red Hand Brotherhood?" asked Hazel sharply, "What in Frith's name is that?" To everyone's surprise, it was McEwen who answered the question this time.

"The Red Hand Brotherhood is a notorious terrorist faction, consisting mostly of radical Russian paramilitarists, bent on reshaping the world into a global Soviet militia. Every good soldier out on the field has heard of them and all the atrocities they committed during the war, when Russia was in the Chinese militia's pocket. Isn't that right, Mr Robbins?" The man nodded.

"If Black Inferno were ever completed and launched, it would alter the balance of power forever through unrestricted and virtually uncontrollable world terrorism. The footage from our 'documentary' would have been used as evidence to confirm the existence of this weapon. My mission was to survey undercover and then report my findings, plain and simple."

Although the man's explanation had a certain ring of validity, Alan was still feeling most apprehensive at having been kept in the dark all this time, not to mention highly suspicious of Robbins' motives. Something in the man's story just didn't add up.

"You still haven't answered my question: Why use us at all?" Robbins began losing his patience.

"Espionage works in mysterious ways, many of which you wouldn't understand, and which you're not privy to. I don't make the rules; national security is far more important than your precious privacy," he said coldly, forcibly trying to end the conversation, "Besides, was does it really matter anymore? If this weapon ever existed at all, it's long gone, along with the rest of the world. Who knows, maybe that's what wiped out civilisation in the first place…" But Alan wasn't through with him yet.

"Spare us your 'going by the book' excuses!" he snapped sharply, "You could have confessed this whole deal to us when we first came here, yet you kept quiet about it. You even continued monitoring and recording our every move! Why? Does this business have anything to do with us being catapulted forward through time? Well, does it?" Before Robbins could formulate some sort of explanation however, a silky soft voice from the edge of the woods caught them all by surprise.

"Greetings, friends. It looks like you've come a long way. May I offer you shelter at my warren?"

In the dim light, they saw a large chubby-looking rabbit with bushy white fur and a rather dull expression staring at them. Bigwig and Holly were instantly on their feet, in a fighting stance, their eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of more rabbits, thinking it might be an ambush. However, there was no other rabbit in sight. The newcomer was alone.

"Who are you chum and what do you want from us?" demanded Bigwig, staring suspiciously at the stranger, puzzled by his odd behaviour. There they were, with a couple of talking humans at their side, yet this fellow hadn't gone tharn, instead appearing completely unconcerned! Was he blind, or just plain mad?

"My name is Cowslip and I don't want anything," replied the stranger in his sickly sweet voice, "I was just wondering whether you sought shelter or food. My warren is always open to weary travellers…"

The mention of the rabbit's name instantly joggled Alan's memory, causing him an instant dislike for the newcomer. Remembering from Adams' book, Cowslip was the Chief Rabbit of the notorious Warren of the Shining Wires!

Author's note: The end of Chapter 11! What is Robbins hiding from Alan? For those you are still reading this story, brace yourselves for a wild ride at Cowslip's warren. Due to the circumstances of the situation, it will be a lot worse than just mere snares and lurking Efrafans… By the way, the Skeleton Dance line is a reference to a famous 1920's Disney cartoon. Enjoy and please review!