Bigwig and Campion called the group of nervous and bewildered Efrafans gathered in the hallway of Buxton Hall to order. The headcount came up with a total of 49 survivors, including the Watershipers, several of which were badly injured from the battle. Alan, Hazel, Fiver and Blackberry frantically moved about, providing first aid. Alan had wrapped his broken left arm in his belt and secured around his neck in a makeshift sling, allowing him to work with his remaining good arm.

Although only a few of the survivors had suffered major injuries, the long-term effects of malnutrition, confinement, as well as physical and mental abuse had long since taken their toll on the former Efrafan slaves. All of them were thin and sickly, with shabby, dirty fur, making them a sorry sight indeed. They would all have to receive specialist treatment from Josie once they returned to Watership Down. Alan also couldn't help but notice their crushed spirits; most of them looked terribly uneasy in his presence and that of his friends, and in the Owsla officers' case, aggressive, as a result of Woundwort's brainwashing to fear anything outside Efrafa.

As he turned to tend to another casualty, a former slave judging by his haggard appearance, the frightened rabbit knelt before him, like a servant bowing before his master. Alan sighed at the buck's crushed spirit, with its dull, frightened eyes and drooped ears, "You don't have to do that; you aren't a slave anymore." He tried to apply a compressor on his bleeding leg, but the buck recoiled and pulled away, terrified of being handled by a human. Just as Alan was thinking how he could persuade the poor creature to let him treat him, the young soldier whose life he had spared during the battle, Corporal Moss intervened.

"A layth nahl mul es nao. Mul bleth a methyl."

The slave rabbit, interpreting the words of the Owsla officer as a direct order, obeyed and held still so Alan could patch him up. Alan smiled gratefully at Moss, who nodded respectfully, "I owe you my life, ithe; no Efrafan soldier would have ever spared an enemy in battle like you did." In the background, Alan could see Campion beaming at the pair of them, glad to see some peaceful cooperation between the two parties. It seemed his people indeed had a chance of starting anew, just as Alan had promised. They had just finished patching up the last of the wounded, when Holly, Bluebell and Silver came back from scouting the island for any other survivors they might have missed.

"That's the lot of them," Holly informed Hazel and Bigwig, "Everyone has been accounted for."

"We can start moving them out then," said Hazel.

Alan reached into his pocket for his radio, but found he had lost it during the battle. Hotdog should be here by now as they'd planned, probably waiting for them down in the cove, yet he had no way to let him know they were coming. There was only one thing for it then, "Bluebell, you and Fiver run up ahead and see if Hotdog has arrived, there's a good chap." The two rabbits set off down the secret tunnel, where they were supposed to rendezvous with their pilot, to take them home, not realising that they were walking straight into an ambush…

Meanwhile, Hotdog, battered and bruised, had just managed to dig himself out of the semi-collapsed tunnels of the mine. After losing Robbins's trail in the secret tunnel by taking a wrong turn, he had nearly been killed when the explosion had occurred, causing the old mine tunnels to start collapsing, nearly crushing him. Barely escaping being buried alive, but finding the way he had come in completely blocked, he had taken a different route, navigating blindly through the maze of semi-collapsed tunnels for a long while, until he'd found his way back to the generator room. The tunnel that led down to the cove was luckily still there, unblocked.

Glad to have found his way out of this tomb, it hadn't taken him long to spot the second nitro canister where Robbins had planted it; however, he noticed, this one had already been diffused for some reason. He smiled slyly; Robbins must have made it back to the plane only to discover he wasn't going anywhere in it. And when he caught up with that bastard, he'd... At that moment, Hotdog heard the chilling scream coming from down the tunnel. Frowning, realising someone was in trouble, he broke into a run, going to the rescue...

Bluebell and Fiver made their way down to the cove, expecting to meet Hotdog. Pretty soon, their hardships would finally be over, much to the relief of both rabbits. Bluebell, in particular, was overwhelmed at the thought of seeing Violet again and meeting his newborn children. Although utterly devastated to hear about Speedwell's injury and the death of Buckthorn, he couldn't help but feel ecstatic at the idea of finally having a family of his own. In fact, he was so overwhelmed, he didn't notice Fiver suddenly go tharn, sensing danger close by.

"Bluebell, wait! Stop!" But it was already too late; as Bluebell stepped out of the cave, a hand, brandishing a knife, suddenly swung from around the corner, coming straight at him. Caught by surprise, Bluebell instinctively stood on his hind legs to defend himself and, in an instant, the damage was done. Robbins drove the knife to the hilt, straight through Bluebell's upper torso, where his heart was. The buck's eyes widened in shock as the death blow hit him.

Fiver watched in horror as Bluebell crumpled to the ground, the knife buried deep into his chest like a stake. Before he could try and run, a second attacker sprang at him from the shadows, pinning him to the ground. Vervain stared nastily back at him, his evil expression resembling someone about to taste the sweet fruits of revenge sooner than he thought. How Fiver wished they'd killed this rabbit when they had the chance...

Robbins, realising neither of the newcomers were his intended victim, pulled the knife out of Bluebell's body and marched over to where Vervain held Fiver. The seer felt his blood run cold with fear.

"Well, well, well…" the madman muttered in a cold voice, "If it isn't Johnson's daydreaming, runty sidekick. I have to give you credit; you showed quite some backbone on our last meeting, when you so nobly chose to sacrifice yourself to save your friend, when his life was within my grasp. Only I see you had a lucky escape that time, instead of letting my nemesis' spirit be crushed with your death – a minor mishap that will soon be remedied, when I present your friends with your head, no longer attached to the rest of your body!"

Fiver whimpered in fear, tears rolling down his face as Robbins brought the knife, still dripping with Bluebell's blood, down towards his throat. He struggled desperately against Vervain's grip, but Woundwort's former Head of Owslafa, despite being no particularly strong rabbit himself, was more than a match for Fiver's small physique. Robbins, yielding the crimson knife like a butcher-soon-to-be-executioner, sneered devilishly.

"Any last prayers, boy?"

But just as Robbins was about to slit Fiver's throat, an unexpected rescuer appeared on the scene. Vervain, picking up the scent of another human behind them, turned and saw Hotdog, "Look out!" Robbins barely managed to duck in time, as Hotdog's knuckleduster hand swung at his face.

Drawing Pete's gun, he was about to shoot, but his opponent struck first, knocking the revolver out of his hand; it flew through the air, landing in the water far out in the middle of the river. Hotdog went for his own gun. Robbins, now unarmed and realising he couldn't win this fight, yet not about to be recaptured now, sprinted towards the dingy Hotdog had used to reach Efrafa. Vervain, knowing the severe consequences that were bound to come if the outsiders caught him now, followed suit.

"Hey, wait for me!"

By the time Hotdog had drawn his gun, Robbins had pushed off from shore with Vervain, as the two accomplishes escaped together down the river. Furious, Hotdog opened fired in the direction of the dingy but it was already too far out of range. He could hear the evil pair jeering, promising that they hadn't seen the last of them yet. But, in the haste of his quick getaway, Robbins had forgotten to take one important little detail into account: the weir.

No sooner had the dingy cleared the island, leaving the two accomplices seemingly free and clear to plan their next move, Robbins realised he had unthinkingly dropped them both into a death trap. He cursed at the sight of the weir up ahead; Vervain, who was as afraid of water as Pipkin, screamed in terror. Robbins furiously tried paddling back upstream, but they were already caught in the current. The dingy, not designed for such rough water, flipped over as it went over the edge of the weir, throwing both Robbins and Vervain into the rapids.

From the shore, Hotdog watched in satisfaction as the two escapees were swallowed up by the weir, could hear their cries as they fought in vain to escape the rapids and then they were gone. They wouldn't be hearing from them again. He turned back to Fiver, who was tending to Bluebell; although miraculously still alive, the injured buck was in critical condition, the knife wound having penetrated deep into his upper torso, right over his heart. Their jester was bleeding grotesquely, looking as if he might slip away at any second.

Stripping off his shirt, Hotdog pressed it down hard over the wound, slowing down the bleeding somewhat. He was no medic, but he could tell the rabbit's heartbeat was growing weak and irregular, indicating the severity of his injury. He turned to Fiver.

"Don't just stand there! Go get Alan and the others down here fast! Be quick, he'll die!" Fiver set off at a fast pace back up the tunnel, silently praying to Frith that Bluebell's kittens wouldn't grow up without even knowing their father...

Meanwhile, upstairs, the Efrafans were all patched up and ready to be evacuated. On Campion's command, all the Marks regrouped in an orderly manner, ready to move out. In the shelter next door, Alan was busy gathering up whatever was left of their equipment and putting it in his backpack. Now that they were in the future to stay, every bit of junk they could find could be useful in some way or another, and shouldn't be wasted. At that moment, Fiver burst in, looking terrified out of his wits.

"Help! Somebody help! He stabbed him and I think he's dying!" Alan gently grabbed hold of the distraught buck, trying to calm him down.

"Easy lad, calm down! Who's dying?"

"Bluebell! Robbins and Vervain ambushed us down there! He stabbed Bluebell!"

Alan was furious, "Bloody hell! All right, listen up, we have someone down! Bigwig and Hazel, you come with me! Campion, you, Holly and Silver, start moving everyone down the tunnel but stay alert! Let's move!" They hurried back down the tunnel. Many uneasy thoughts went through Alan's head at this latest attack.

How could have Robbins shown up here? How had he escaped? His heart skipped a beat at he thought of what might have happened back on the Down. Had Lucy, or Josie or others had been hurt or killed in revenge? Damn, he should have listened to Bigwig earlier... This time, Robbins had gone far enough; the next time he met up with that bastard, he swore, he'd kill him on sight! And as for that slimeball Vervain, he'd rue the day he was born when he got his hands on him!

They found Hotdog struggling to keep the wounded Bluebell from slipping away. Alan was no doctor, but as a zoologist, he knew enough about animal anatomy to determine the severity of the injury and make a rough prognosis. Examining Bluebell's wound, with sick realisation, he realised the knife had pierced the buck's heart – not a direct hit, otherwise he'd be dead already, but critical nonetheless. Checking Bluebell's pulse, it felt irregular, his damaged heart struggling to maintain a steady beat. Bluebell was clinging to life by a thread.

"This isn't good; we need to get some help for him fast," he said. He turned to look at the weir visible just down the river, where Fiver had said Robbins and Vervain had been lost in their escape, "When I catch those two scumbags, I'm going to rip them apart with my bare hands...!"

"A bit late for that, mate," said Hotdog with a smirk, "Dirty bastards tried to make a break for it in the dingy and they didn't get far. I suspect our friend Robbins and his lackey are trout food by now!" Although it gave them all great satisfaction, not to mention relief, that Robbins and Vervain had probably drowned, ridding them of the threat they posed for good, it was of little consolation now with Bluebell's condition.

"Will he be all right?" asked Hazel. As Chief Rabbit, his first concern was for the welfare of his friends. They had already lost four good comrades today; he couldn't bear the thought of losing yet another. Alan lost it.

"How the bloody hell should I know? I'm a biologist, Hazel, not a damn surgeon!" he bellowed, causing his companions to look at him reproachfully for his outburst. Alan sighed apologetically, "Forgive me, I just hate having someone hurt on my account. Robbins intended this for me; Bluebell was of no interest to him…"

"They how could you let this happen to him?" asked a cold voice from behind them and they saw Blackberry, who had arrived with the first Mark, staring at the injured Bluebell, looking furious, "How many more of us must get hurt so Robbins can satisfy his hatred towards you?" he snarled, glaring at Alan, who couldn't find the courage to retort, realising Blackberry spoke the hard truth.

"Ever since you came, Robbins has been targeting us one by one, to get to you," he raged, "Well, we have nothing to do with whatever's going on between the two of you. And yet, you let him drag us all into his vendetta, by making us pay the price with our blood! You miserable, cursed ithe, it's all your damn fault…!" But Bigwig, furious at seeing Alan being accused like that, stepped in.

"I'm warning you, Blackberry; if you don't watch your tongue, I'll teach you exactly what real suffering is like! Frith above, how dare you imply Alan is responsible in any way for what happened to Bluebell!"

"It's his fault Robbins and Woundwort were targeting us in the first place, Bigwig, and well you know it!" Blackberry growled back, "Hazel-rah should have known better than to trust..." That pretty much tore it and Bigwig sprang at Blackberry pinning him to the ground.

"Listen here, you slimy little calumniator," he growled angrily, "Don't you ever dare criticize your Chief Rabbit like that again! If you were half the rabbit he is, you'd be twice the rabbit you are! And if I ever hear you talking such hraka again, I'll...!" But Fiver's voice interrupted Bigwig's threats, "If we don't hurry, Bluebell will soon be taken by the Black Rabbit of Inle!" They all turned back to Bluebell.

Carefully, the men lifted him up and carried him onboard the plane. They gently placed him down on the floor between the seats in the rear of the cabin and Alan covered him with his jacket, making him as comfortable as possible. They moved Max Pete's lifeless body out and placed it behind some rocks, until they could come back later and bury him. Then came the problem of transporting forty-nine passengers on a plane built only for twenty. The most logical solution would be to ferry everyone off the island in groups; however, that would mean multiple journeys to the Down and back, causing a great delay, not to mention a big waste of precious fuel. Then Hotdog, a professional cargo transport pilot, came up with a radical, but interesting solution.

"If we can cram everyone onboard, we can't take off again, but we can instead taxi up the river on the floats, all the way to Watership Down instead. I think I can do that, without wasting too much fuel. All we need is enough sitting space."

So, they got to work, flattening all the passenger seats, which the rabbits didn't need, to make more room. But in spite of their best efforts, they could only cram twenty-eight inside the cabin. That left them with only one alternate sitting place to utilise: the wings.

Using some spare harnesses from the luggage compartment, they managed to strap down twelve more Efrafans on the wing panels. In order to compensate for the dangerously heavy load on the wings, which, if shifted during the transport, could cause the plane to roll over, Hotdog and Alan drained the fuel tanks, leaving only just enough juice to make it to Watership Down and back. The reserve fuel, which would go right back into the tanks once the job was done, was temporarily stored in an old mining cart they'd found in the mine which made a good reservoir. Hotdog put the fuses back in their panel, restoring power to the plane.

The Efrafans boarded in an orderly manner; the injured first, then the does, the slaves, and finally the officers. Campion also went along, sitting in the empty co-pilot's seat, to supervise the transport, leaving the Watership Owsla to be picked up afterwards. While the bewildered Efrafans boarded, Alan got on the plane's radio, trying to reach Josie and report their situation.

"Josie, this is Alan. Can you hear me? Hallo, is anyone there?"

Meanwhile, Josie and Lucy were still trying fruitlessly to contact Alan, using the radio they'd set up in the HAB's control room. Although they'd managed to power up the radio, they weren't picking up anything. Was the radio not working or had something bad happened to Alan's party? Had Robbins caught up with them? Maybe they'd been captured or killed? Suddenly, just as they were about to give up, they finally heard something: Alan's voice, faint and barely audible, could be heard through the crackling static.

"Josie…Alan…hear me?"

Josie frantically fiddled with the radio bands, until she managed to clear up the static somewhat. Although still a weak signal, they had at last established contact, "Yes, Alan, it's Josie. I can hear you!" Beside her, Lucy was instantly on her toes, cheering and jumping with excitement. "Daddy! Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you, princess," came her father's voice, which was music to her ears, before asking to speak to Josie, "Is everyone all right back there?"

"Yes, we're fine. But Alan, listen. Robbins's escaped with the help of that fighter pilot who came for him. They've stolen the plane and are coming after you with a bomb…!" To her utmost relief, Alan reported that everything was under control.

"It's all right; Hotdog made it here in time and took care of Robbins. We've won, Josie; Efrafa and Woundwort are history!" That sure was a spot of good news they'd soon be sharing with the others up in the Honeycomb, Josie thought. But she could still tell that not everything had gone perfectly.

"What about my husband?" she asked, dreading the answer. There was a long pause before Alan finally answered her in a grim voice, "I'm sorry, Josie; he sacrificed himself to end this war." Although utterly devastated at the news of her husband's death, again, Josie couldn't help but feel a heavy weight suddenly lift off her chest; her divided heart, which was split between Alan and her husband, was whole again. Ironically, with her husband dead, she was now free to express her secret love for Alan... She shrugged it off, feeling utterly appalled with herself. How dare she insult James' memory with such selfish thoughts? Alan's voice over the radio snapped her back to reality.

"Josie, I realise you'll want some time to yourself, but I need your full attention now. We're bringing in many casualties, including one with a knife stab through his chest. I need you all to make immediate preparations to receive them. Is Speedwell doing any better?"

"No, he didn't make it. He's dead." There was another long pause as Alan took in the sad news, before he answered back, "All right, get everything ready. We should be there in about twenty minutes. Over and out."

"Alan, I just want to tell you that…" Josie said, struggling to let it out, but Alan had already signed off, "…I love you..." Shrugging it off, she threw off the headset and turned to Lucy, "We have to get ready to receive casualties. Come on." They returned to the Honeycomb and, after filling in the others with the news, they got to work, hastily preparing the Honeycomb for the refugees their Owsla were bringing in.

While the rabbits prepared the burrows as temporary sleeping quarters, Josie and Lucy set up a makeshift infirmary in the main chamber, where the veterinarian could treat her patients. In a side burrow nearby, the bodies of Acorn, Nildrohein and Speedwell lay side by side, zipped up in body bags. For refrigerant, Josie had used some ice she'd collected from a couple of battery-powered cool-cases the colonists had brought with them, keeping them preserved, until they could bury them. Josh grimly wondered how many more body bags and ice they'd need before the night was out...

Back on the remaining fragment of the Efrafan Island, night slowly crept over the countryside as the moon came up. The men had lit their flashlights, penetrating the misty darkness of the canyon, which created an extremely spooky atmosphere, much like a haunted graveyard. In the night, the boarding of evacuees continued without incident...at least for now.

"Your turn, Heather; you too, Aspen," said Campion, as he helped the last of the Efrafans aboard. At last, they were ready for departure: Hyzenthlay, Thethuthinang, Vilthuril, Nelthilta, Moss, Groundsel, Silverweed, the injured Bluebell, Blackavar and thirty other Efrafans were all cramped together in the cabin or strapped onto the wings. However, none of them complained of the accommodations, all well accustomed to spending long periods of time confined to small crowded areas. Campion also went along to supervise the transport, along with Hotdog who was the pilot, leaving Alan, Hazel, Bigwig, Fiver, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Holly, Blackberry and Silver to be picked up later.

The floatplane, now filled way beyond its carrying capacity, sat dangerously low in the water, the waterline reaching to the very top of the pontoons, yet still remained firmly balanced. Hotdog turned to Alan, "I'll drop this lot off and then come back for the rest of you. You just sit tight till I get back."

Five minutes later, the floatplane was slowly taxiing up the river on full power; although too overloaded to fly, it still made a fine riverboat, just as Hotdog had said it would. That old dog sure knew his business, thought Alan. They could hear the sounds of the Efrafans inside, all fretting at the roaring sound of the engines as well as from the moving hrududu they were riding in – a totally knew and utterly unsettling experience for them all. They could also hear Campion doing his best to keep them calm, while Hotdog yelled at him to stop that riff-raff from turning his plane into a bear-garden. They watched as the aircraft slowly taxied through the mist and disappearing upriver.

"There is no point waiting down here," said Alan, "Let's get back up top and wait in the shelter." They turned and headed back up the tunnel, to Buxton Hall. Hopefully, in a few hours they'd be home-free, leaving the hardships of the Battle of Efrafa behind them.

Meanwhile, Woundwort still lay hidden on the ledge above the cove, observing. He had watched that winged hrududu depart with all those miserable deserters the outsiders had recruited, leaving the leader-ithe Johnson and the rest of the outsider ringleaders behind. It was perfect.

He had heard that other ithe called Hotdog say that he'd return for them soon; and when he did, he'd be ready to take out that hrududu. He would then have the outsiders trapped on the island and completely at his mercy! Once he had killed them off, one by one, the outsiders' warren and all the rabbits in it would be his for the taking. Efrafa might be wiped out, but he'd rebuild his empire yet.

Spotting the drowned body of one of his Owsla washed up at the foot of the cliffs, he dragged it up onto the ledge where he was hiding and started gnawing at it like a lion, having his fill of meat, intent on rebuilding his strength for his new mission. After all, it wasn't at all uncommon for Woundwort to utilise the bodies of his victims, or even his own people, for food. A fed warrior was a strong warrior, and he needed all the strength he could get.

As soon as his hunger was satisfied, Woundwort climbed back up to his lookout point, watching the river for the return of the hrududu, ready to make his next move...

Using the plane's landing lights to see where he was going, Hotdog carefully manoeuvred the floatplane up the river. Pretty soon, the beautiful sight of Watership Down loomed into view ahead. The Efrafans stared with awe at the sight of their new home, a fine change to the life they had left behind. Nearing shore, Hotdog saw Josie by the light of a spotlight she was carrying hurrying down to meet them, Pipkin and Lucy in tow.

As soon as the plane was safely moored, Campion and his former officers helped the rest of their fellow evacuees disembark. Lucy, always friendly, tried to greet some of them, but they either shrunk back in fright or growled at her to keep away, clearly not trusting of humans. Obviously, these rabbits were very different from the peaceful, friendly type her dad had met. While Pipkin led the Efrafans up to the Honeycomb, Josie turned to examine Bluebell.

Realising the medical emergency at hand, she turned to Hotdog, "Get up to the Honeycomb and bring the stretcher we used for Speedwell so we can move him, quick! And don't tell Violet anything about this yet; the stress of seeing her mate in this condition could be harmful for her as well as for her kittens."

Although she knew poor Violet would have to be confronted with the news soon or later, as a veterinarian, Josie needed her to pull together and focus on caring for her four kittens. Stress could cause animal mothers to neglect their young, leaving them to die. She recalled a time when she had been brought an injured doe and her litter that had accidentally been run over by a gardener's lawnmower; although the doe had survived, she had been so traumatised from shock that her milk had dried up, forcing Josie to resort to hand-rearing the kittens herself. Despite her best efforts, being wild rabbits, they were extremely difficult to feed and died within a few days from aspiration pneumonia. She dreaded the same thing happening again now.

Bending down beside Bluebell, she examined the stab wound and saw the knife had penetrated real deep into the flesh, rupturing the heart as it went. Although not instantly fatal, Bluebell's heart had suffered considerable damage, which she probably would not be able to fix with the resources at hand, making his chances of recovery extremely slim. However, she had to try.

Strapping Bluebell onto the stretcher, Josie and Hotdog carried him up the hill to the Honeycomb. As they entered, they met with Violet, who had already been told by Pipkin about Bluebell been injured. She tore past Josie, stopping dead in her tracks, staring utterly horrified at her dying mate on the stretcher. She burst into tears, as she nuzzled him, begging him to awake. Bluebell's eyes briefly fluttered open and his pained face formed into a smile, acknowledging her presence, but too weak to speak. Josie gently put her hands round her shoulders, trying to reassure her, but the doe furiously slapped her hand away.

"No, leave me alone! Bluebell needs me!" she half-screamed, half-wept, while Josie desperately tried to calm her down.

"Dear, please, you must let us tend to him, if he's to have any chance of recovery." The doe finally managed to control herself, but it didn't ease up her worrying, "Will he be all right?" Josie decided it was better to face Violet with the truth, rather than reassure her with lies.

"Violet, I'm afraid Bluebell has been badly hurt; I don't know if we'll be able to save him. However," she continued, before Violet could despair again, "I promise you, I will do my best for him. In the meantime, I need you to focus on your kittens; they need their mother more than Bluebell needs you right you. Leave Bluebell to me." Reluctantly, Violet stepped aside, still struggling to hold back her tears, and returned to her mothering duties. They moved Bluebell into a private burrow, where he'd be comfortable.

Josie applied tourniquets to dress the wound and put Bluebell on oxygen ventilation. Finally, she sedated him, which would keep his damaged heart on a minimum beat, preventing it from exerting itself and causing it to fail. Although only a temporary solution, at least it would buy her enough time to check on her other patients.

Leaving the refugees in Josie and Lucy's care, Hotdog left to return to Efrafa for the last time, to pick up Alan's group. With just himself onboard now, it would be but a quick flight back there, much easier than the previous sluggish taxiing up the river. At last, things were looking up...or so he thought.

Meanwhile, back at Efrafa, Alan, Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig, Hawkbit, Blackberry, Holly, Silver and Dandelion sat in their makeshift shelter in the ruins of Buxton Hall, waiting for Hotdog's return. Alan had relit the fire in the grate for light, keeping them comfortable. Now that they were alone, Alan and his companions were able to tell their friends the story of their journey into the past and their escapades to correct the future. As Alan had expected, it came as a total shock to them all. After all, learning that they had all died in a different history, prompting their friends to go back in time and change the past to bring them back was not something one heard every day!

Silver, Holly and Dandelion were speechless; Dandelion in particular seemed almost envious at having missed such a unique opportunity of witnessing the origins of their farthest ancestors, which would have provided him with the inspiration for the greatest storytelling ever. Blackberry, on the other hand, seemed utterly horrified, if not outraged, at their adventure.

"It's not that I'm not grateful," he told Alan reproachfully, "But I think it was a big mistake on your part to take them back to your own time and then manipulate history to save the rest of us. That was a foolish, reckless decision if I ever saw one…"

"Excuse me," Alan retorted hotly, tired of Blackberry's disapproval at every turn, "What else were we suppose to do? We saw you all die needlessly and this world destroyed! It was the only way we had left to undo what should never have happened in the first place! Hell, I took every precaution possible to protect the rise of your world, going as far as letting my world be destroyed all over again. Why are you being so negative about it?"

"Because I don't have your appetite for playing Frith with the world!" snapped Blackberry incredulously, "Just think: suppose someone else learns the secret of time travel? Suppose that someone decided to exploit it for his own gain, with absolutely no consideration of the consequences? Don't you realise there could a terrible price to pay?" Alan chose not to retort, realising Blackberry actually had a fair point.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Blackberry," said Hazel, staring out at the night sky, "Prince Rainbow has returned to his slumber; no more visitors from the past will ever be appearing again." Staring out the window, Alan realised the Aurora was indeed gone. So much the better, he thought. This way, he was officially done with time travelling and the world he once knew was now but a memory. But it hardly bothered him, knowing he was about to make a fresh start in this new century. But Blackberry's negative attitude towards his living among them, he wasn't so sure about. He suspected time would tell. Then, he suddenly remembered something.

"During the battle, Woundwort said that he and the Threarah knew where I came from – something I'd suspected for some time now. Apparently, they wanted to use me, each for their own ends. But how could they have known about all of this happening…?" His friends seemed just as baffled about this mystery as he was...all, except Silver.

"The Gift of Prince Rainbow…" the oaf-sized, silver-furred buck muttered softly, as if in sudden realisation. They all turned to look at him, surprised that he apparently knew something, "What?"

"The Gift of Prince Rainbow," Silver repeated, "It's an ancient prophecy that my Uncle knew from our forefathers. He shared part of it with me when I came into his care as a kitten, under oath of absolute secrecy – an oath that I'm breaking now." They all settled down as Silver explained.

"The prophecy talks about Prince Rainbow opening his Great Hole in the Sky and bestowing upon us a gift. This gift would be a talking human – yes, a talking human like you, Alan –, a Messenger from heaven who'd be destined to change our world forever. It's unknown whether it would be for the better or for the worst." Although none of them could figure where this so-called prophesy had originated from, it still explained a few things.

"I guess that explains why the Threarah initially saw me as a threat – and why Woundwort chose to ally himself with Robbins," said Alan, "Knowing Woundwort was also aware of the prophecy, the Threarah probably feared the possibility of this asset, as it were, falling into the wrong hands. Like Rubscuttle, he believed you'd be far better off without humans re-emerging, whilst Woundwort sought the perfect instrument to conquer the world. Talk about altering the balance of power."

"That's why I didn't report him back then when you first met – because I knew," Silver told Hazel, "I also knew my Uncle would see to it that you were either imprisoned or killed. When you were arrested, I argued with him that the Gift of Prince Rainbow had come true and that you were definitely on our side, given how you'd saved Fiver's life. He told me the Gift was nothing more than a temptation for evil that should be left alone and even threatened to banish me too," he spat coldly, "That fool knew the truth all along and instead chose to bury it like a coward…"

"There's no need to be so harsh about your Uncle, Silver," said Alan, sympathising for him, "After all, his intentions were to protect you, not to use me as an instrument of war, like Woundwort intended. Besides, his fear of me posing a threat to your world was partly justified: Robbins allied himself with Woundwort to destroy us all and then exploit this world for his own gain, and he all but succeeded. Granted, his actions were selfish and rash, but he wasn't, well, evil…"

"Easy for you to say," retorted Silver, "Ever since my mother died from the White Blindness, I've had to endure his bitterness and scorn. Frith of Inle, I couldn't even call him 'Uncle'; he always insisted I wasn't worthy enough to be family. Even when I was drafted in the Owsla, I never once won his approval. Ha! As far as I'm concerned, he was no better than Woundwort...!" That last outburst caused several gasps. They all knew of Silver's shaky relationship with the Threarah, but this kind of downgrading association with the most infamous dictator that had ever lived was too much.

"How dare you!" exclaimed Blackberry, who had once been one of the Threarah's most trusted personal advisors, "The Threarah was still an honourable leader and a defender of the rights of rabbits. I will not hear him insulted like that!"

"You're going a little too far, young bucko," Holly also reprimanded him, albeit not as sternly. After serving for hrair seasons under the Threarah as Captain of Owsla, he too still held some positive regard for his former Chief, "I agree, your Uncle had his flaws and, yes, he did reject you as his nephew, but there was a time when he had to make a painful decision to save the rest of his warren, including you and your sister, from death!" He was, of course, referring to Silver and Violet's mother Flyairth, the Threarah's sister, whom he had been forced to drive out to die, after she became infected with the White Blindness, "And I, for one, will always respect him for that!" Silver said nothing; although he knew of his Uncle's dark past, that had haunted the old rabbit to his death, he couldn't find it within his heart to let his anger go.

"You know nothing..."

"I know exactly how you feel, Silver," insisted Alan, and for good reason, "My mother died giving birth to me, causing my brother Royce to be bitter and resentful towards me from the day I was born. Then our father died too, leaving us to grow up in an orphanage; that's where I met Derek, Hotdog and another chap called Fields, who became my new family so to speak, like you and your outskirter friends." The rabbits all gathered around, listening to his story. They had never heard him talk about this mysterious, estranged brother of his before.

"Royce and I never reconciled and, after we came of age, I never saw him again; years later, I learned he had perished at sea during the war, where he was serving as a Royal Navy captain. His childhood grudge simply ran too deep. Sometimes, I wish had tried harder to make amends. I guess I waited too long..." He noticed Silver was deeply touched, realising the close similarity of their family misfortunes. Alan went on speaking.

"Your uncle probably felt bitter towards you because you reminded him of his sister, whom he had been forced to drive out of the warren to die, to control the plague. It's always hard to let go of such a past Silver; yet, unlike my brother Royce, your uncle still managed to find some redemption in the end," he explained, telling them what had been said between the two of them on the Threarah's deathbed, "He finally managed to let go of his distrust towards humans and entrusted you all into my care; so, in a way, he finally trusted your judgement regarding me and did the right thing."

Silver was staring at the floor with a miserable expression, torn between his feelings for his Uncle; part of him wished he and the Threarah had gotten along better, while the other half, reflecting on his cold and neglectful attitude towards him, made him wish he never had an Uncle at all. He hadn't shed a single tear after watching his Uncle die back at Sandleford, instead quickly dismissing it altogether, intent on moving on with his life. But, deep down, it made him feel guilty of never at least trying to make amends with his last living relative before it was too late. Fat lot of good it would do him now that the Threarah was dead and gone.

As if reading Silver's mind, Hazel tried to comfort him, "The best you can do now, Silver, is just forgive him; if he's watching you from the Land Beyond Life, I'm sure it'll help him find some peace within himself. Perhaps, when the Black Rabbit comes for you too someday and you meet up with him, you'll find he's finally accepted you."

Although that seemed to cheer Silver up somewhat, Alan still felt rather troubled with regards to his own past; he had let go of Royce long ago and forgiven him for never being there for him, but he wasn't so sure about his other guilt – Fields. His long-vanished childhood friend had abandoned their friendship out of jealousy and spite over his wife Mary. Even if he could forgive Fields for been so selfish, could Fields, wherever he was, forgive him for what had happened to Mary?

His thoughts were cut short however, when they suddenly heard the familiar sound of a plane coming in to land; Hotdog was coming back for them. At last, they were going home! Picking up his equipment, he led the way down the secret tunnel to the cove, where they expected to rendezvous with Hotdog and finally get off this godforsaken island.

Author's note: Sorry for the delay, but I had exams to deal with! The Gift of Prince Rainbow and the Threarah's role in it will be discussed in greater detail later. Also, the character of Fields will also prove more important than it seems... Enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!