Each time Tassel awoke, she explored her cell. Without any visual reference, she did not know the dimensions of her prison. Even the ceiling defied her attempts at touching it. Tassel's imagination soon turned the cellar into an immense site whenever she remembered it held an entire year's vintage of October Ale. Since she had no idea what lands the Abbey controlled, her mind increased the yield with each attempted calculation.

Prior to her incarceration, Captain Greypaw said her supplies would be replenished every five days. This didn't help since she had no way of telling time. Tassel ate and drank whenever she wanted. When her supplies ran out, she wondered how soon the hares would return with additional food and water. Fear had her thinking they abandoned her to this blackness.

It started with the sound of a heavy door moving. Tassel removed her blindfold and placed it on her bedding. Her paw latched onto the handle of the empty apple bucket she kept near her blankets. She kept one paw along the wall as she searched for the dry water bucket. Anticipation had her listening for the sliding sound made by the bolts sealing the trapdoor.

A shaft of light illuminated the ceiling like the breaking of dawn after a long night. The forms of those who stood above her remained shadows before the sun. Somebody lowered a rope to her. Tassel's fingers trembled as she hooked the empty buckets and her eyes followed them upward. Seconds later, a bucket containing apples descended and she removed it from the hook. Her guards repeated the process and lowered a full bucket of water. Once freed of its burden, the rope flew upward. Each paw held the handle of a different bucket. Just as she stepped away from the light, the darkness again embraced her when the heavy wooden trapdoor dropped into place. Throughout the process, the hares never uttered a word nor responded to her shouted greeting.

Alone again, Tassel sought ways of occupying herself. She felt the cold stones, trying to discern patterns her fingers could use to identify where she stood in relation to the four corners. Sometimes she attempted to venture across the open floor but without the comfort of the walls, she soon became disoriented. Terror filled her mind as a wrong turn left her wandering in circles until she blundered into the stony wall.

While awake, her cell morphed into a frightening place. Tassel wondered if this pit contained every evil demon her elders told her inhabited the night. The oppressive dark magnified her isolation. In her desire for companionship, Tassel wished Henrietta was here, almost. Without somebody to answer her voice, the room resembled a cold crypt.

Sleep provided Tassel no solace. Dreams that seemed like distant and wispy happenings whenever the sun rose took on too much substance within this rock bordered tomb. Sometimes she recalled fond memories of her life. Those were rare. Terrors, both real and imagined, haunted her sleep.

One nightmare kept repeating, each time more frightening than the last. Tassel envisioned herself standing atop the staircase leading down to the Tapestry Hallway dressed in the finest of silks. A nearby mirror reflected her image wearing fancy earrings and a sparkling necklace like the great nobles she saw as a child. A merry festival drew her closer. When she reached the bottom of the stairway, General Vindicarr greeted her by bowing low before extending his paw as he escorted her to the party.

An instant later, the scene misted and when clarity returned, Tassel found herself secured to the triangle and Vindicarr's whip uncoiled. As each lash landed, she screamed and the festival's merriment grew even louder. Couples danced past her paw in paw with an expression reflective of the happy occasion as another wave of agony enveloped her.

Such a nightmare had her heart race. Like a bursting water jug dropped from above, the horror of her dream vanished, yet the emotions it invoked remained. The dream emphasized her recollection of the brown hare's delight when he administered the court's sentence. Each time she pictured his maniacal expression, Tassel trembled.

"That hare makes even the cruelest of our taskmasters back home seem like a gentle lover."

Tassel's voice echoed through the empty chamber. Nobody responded. She shuddered again as the memory returned and she tried vanquishing it by burrowing deeper into her bedding. Knowing the hare and his whip awaited her or how every resident of the Abbey stood against her had Tassel wallowing in self-pity.

Time passed and Tassel acclimated to the chill of her prison. Familiarity with the room allowed her to dart about the chamber as her fingers identified landmarks. She even ventured away from the walls, confident she could eventually reorient herself. Such excursions provided her the opportunity to flex her muscles and gave her something to do in the perpetual darkness.

Above her, the sound of a distant door moving on its hinges. If her ears did not deceive her, the next sound would announce the arrival of her guards. She had a good reason to wonder if her senses tricked her.

Both buckets are still half full. Are those hares coming early?

Removing her blindfold, she stared at the ceiling. The sound of the bolts sliding reverberated throughout the cellar. Such a soft noise, and yet it reminded her of thunder. She bounced from foot to foot wondering what brought her visitors. A patch of light defined the opening and Tassel approached, shielding her eyes from the distant glare.

The silent figure standing above her lowered a wicker basket tied to a rope. Not sure how she should perceive this offering, Tassel approached with caution. Just as she freed the basket, a sharp whistle drew her eyes to the lighted doorway. Whoever stood by the opening tossed something down to her. Before the door again sealed her in darkness, she recognized the object as the doll Shortspike received as a gift.

Gathering both items, Tassel rushed back to her corner. Though the basket held her curiosity, the doll captured all of her attention. It may have been nothing more than a collection of rags sewn together to resemble the hogget, but to her, it became a viable connection to the world beyond her dark cell. She wanted a companion, now she had one.

"Well Miss Stickerback, it's so nice of you to visit me. How did you ever get away from that silly hogget?"

Shortspike reminded her of the hogget she raised back home and how her life ended with an arrow in her chest. Her daughter never held a doll; her only possession was a length of discarded yellow fabric she weaved in her head spikes. It was dingy, it was frayed, but it became Chaff's prize possession. One hogget had so much and the other had so little, yet both were precocious youngsters, full of life. At least one was. That thought brought her back to the reality of the present. Tassel crushed the doll to her breast and sobbed for the child she lost.

Her tears spent, Tassel replaced the blindfold over her eyes. Setting the doll aside, she opened the picnic basket. The smell of fresh baked bread assaulted her nose. Such a mouthwatering sensation had her wolfing most of it down before she regained her composure.

"What say we try saving the rest?" Tassel giggled as she spoke to the doll she held in one paw while she placed the warm bread back in the box. "Let's find out what else is in here."

One ceramic jar she touched burned her paws and she yelped at the unexpected pain. She licked her fingertips trying to sooth the tingling sensation. Tassel turned her head to where she dropped the doll.

"You're right. If the bread is warm, maybe something within this jar is hot. ... Open it carefully? What do you think I was trying to do when I burned my fingers? ... Maybe it would be best if we wait for it to cool. ... Fine, I'll open it now."

It took effort working the lid off without spilling the contents. Tassel dipped her finger into something hot and slimy. She brought the lumpy mess to her lips and cautiously licked her fingers. Her delighted voice filled the room.

"Why it's oatmeal; there's even a taste of honey mixed in it. ... My word Miss Stickerback, we do have the makings of a fine meal. ... Don't be so impatient; I'll open the other jar too."

The second jar felt cooler to her touch. After Tassel removed the lid, her nose detected the unmistakable odor of vegetable stew. Dipping her finger in the broth proved it was still warm, but unlike the oatmeal, did not retain its heat. Holding the lid over the opening, Tassel tipped the jar and drank the warm broth. With the liquid drained, she scooped out the contents, savoring each new taste sensation until her claws scraped the insides clean.

As much as she spoke of restraint, the contents of the basket soon disappeared. Her questing fingers explored every corner of the container, but found nothing more. With a full belly, Tassel jogged to the corner where she stored her supplies. She finished off her banquet with an apple and dipper of water.

Once she returned to her bedding, Tassel's fingers probed for the doll. Carrying it with her, she spoke to it of her home life. She talked of Chaff and compared her to Shortspike. This had Tassel laughing or crying as she recalled many incidents of her hedgehog daughter's life.

After she exhausted every memory, Tassel sat on her blanket. The gravel in her voice filled the room with an evil echo, but it felt so good having a companion, even an imaginary one. Her distorted voice no longer scared her. She remained sitting in the corner, rocking the doll like the female otter did after nursing Chaff before she was weaned. Just as the rocking would cause the infant to sleep, Tassel soon drifted off into the land of dreams, but this time no terrors invaded her rest.

Time continued. Once again the sounds of the heavy door opening and the sliding of bolts awakened her. Tassel pranced out to the middle of the floor. Dropping the blindfold onto her bedding, she willed the opening to appear. The light brought her such joy.

The rope lowered about a third of the way with a lantern, which illuminated much of the empty cellar. For the first time, she saw the dimensions of her prison. Then the unmistakable sound of wood sliding over wood. The hares lowered a ladder.

Corporal Sweetleaf started the long descent to the stone floor. This must be my final day here before I face the post again. Fear gripped her and she hustled to her corner where she wedged herself. Two more hares soon joined the doe officer as they approached her. In the outline of the illuminated opening, another three hares observed her.

All right girl, you can either go down fighting and be dragged to the post begging for the mercy you know they'll not show or you can go with some measure of dignity. Either way, you'll be feeling Vindicarr's whip before this day is over.

The soldiers drew nearer. Summoning up whatever courage she had, Tassel pushed away from the stony corner and took a step forward. Though fear made her stomach churn, she stood tall. She marched up to Corporal Sweetleaf trying to project a confidence she didn't feel and with a voice that broke, offered to follow them up the ladder.

Instead of grabbing her, the soldiers stepped aside. They flanked Tassel until she started up the ladder and followed close behind her. Those upstairs assisted her without making any additional move at restraining her actions.

The guards surrounded Tassel and they left the storage cellar. A quick stop at an unoccupied washroom allowed Tassel a bath and change of clothing. Satisfied with her appearance, Corporal Sweetleaf led the group through the maze of passageways inside the wall until they reached the Abbey proper. Everyone proceeded to the second floor.

They turned down another passageway and approached Captain Greypaw. Beyond him, a reddish-brown mouse reacted to the squad as it approached. The mouse squeezed past the Captain and opened the closed door. Corporal Sweetleaf moved before the officer and snapped off a sharp salute.

"Sorry for the delay, sir. Tassel smelled quite ripe and needed a change of clothing. I thought it best we make the prisoner as presentable as possible before her audience with the Father Abbot."

"Are all our travel preparations ready?" When Corporal Sweetleaf nodded, the Captain instructed them to meet him at the main gate. They withdrew, leaving her alone with Captain Greypaw.

"You seem confident I'll not be any trouble, Captain."

The hare ignored the implied question in her greeting. "We have been recalled to Fiery Mountain and will be departing today, Tassel."

Her jaw dropped. "That has to be the first time you ever used my name. Considering everything you have said and done since we first met, I'm curious why you chose this time and place."

Just then the mouse exited the room and pointed at Tassel and then at the closed door. As she started past Captain Greypaw, he stopped her with a paw placed gently on her shoulder. Putting his muzzle so close to her ear that the long whiskers on his nose touched her, he murmured so low she almost missed his words.

"I took your advice, Tassel. Thanks to you, my sleep remains peaceful. The demons that haunted me are vanquished. I'll always be grateful."

With that, the hare quickstepped down the hallway. In a matter of seconds he disappeared beyond the same corner the other hares had taken. A less than gentle harrumph from the mouse reminded Tassel there was still the matter of the Father Abbot.