In my garden, there is a tree

That is as tall as it could be

From ev'ry single branch and twig

There is a rope, both small and big

From each of those, someone is tied

Who stood under this tree and died

For each of them, I've always wept

Knowing full well I could have kept

Each one alive, but now I see,

Each one is dead in spite of me

Pandemonium ensued. Pop-Pop thrashed awake as Judy set the bowls down and Bo the book (as quickly and carefully as they could) to converge on the butterscotch rabbit bolting for their elder. It didn't take long for the study door to jostle in futile attempts to get it open, Hoppses on the other side calling for confirmation of wellbeing after such a clatter. Aged ears flailed as his eyes scanned desperately, clapping for his spectacles but they were already swiped by somebunny else…

"We're okay!" Judy called back as eyes tried to peek in through a barely ajar door, "A bookcase fell over but everybunny's okay!"

"What the devil?" Pop-Pop gasped.

"Graham!" Judy and Bo rebuked, standing on either side of him in equal displays of disgust for such unkindness, Bo shoving his shoulder and Judy grabbing the bottle-frame lenses, each with scowls aplenty to give but he seemed to ignore them entirely.

"Otto… hear me," he calmly growled, instantly petrifying Pop-Pop… and Judy.

"What were you thinking? This'll take forever to clean up!" Bo chastised, waving at the pile of books as he walked over and - quite easily - lifted the shelf up and aside, grunting more at the awkwardness than its weight, "Nothing to say about organizing it again," he then huffed but his griping sounded miles and miles away…

"You know my voice from the Willowbranch."

"No…" Pop-Pop whimpered, eyes focused on the snarling, triumphant face as he shrunk into his favorite chair.

Judy gawked, recalling the wax cylinder in Graham's artifact room, the sole recording of Hector Howard's voice known to exist… his journal beside it, detailing every aspect of his life… that sinking pit in her stomach whenever Graham's eyes darkened with enmity… that chill in her spine that she felt not only in his fits of rage but also… that night in the sheriff's office when Gideon growled with savagery… His voice changed the slightest bit as Lenny emerged… Judy immediately realized what it meant when Graham, whose empathy was stunted ever since he was a kit, somehow clicked with Gideon when his eyes turned from blue to gray… As though finding a kindred spirit, if only in circumstance…

Pop-Pop heaved as the rabbit over him leaned in, the dull claws digging into the fabric of his chair's arms. "You do recognize me," the coffee-eared rabbit observed, voice harsher than ever.

"No!" the old rabbit begged, writhing as he tried to bring his knees up, staring at those dark, hateful orbs, "No, you died!"

"Stop it…" Judy demanded after unclenching her jaw, interposing to wrench him away from her grandfather, "Stop it, you're going to give him a heart attack!"

"You're dead!" Pop-Pop continued.

"How!" they bellowed, suddenly clawing at the air as Bo was behind him in an instant, arms locking him in retreat.

Oh biscuits, this was never covered at the academy or… or anywhere! Judy worried, putting down the glasses to grasp her grandfather's shoulder a moment. She then stood before the bestial flailing and gnashing of some rabbit who looked just like Graham.

"I saw you die!" Pop-Pop then whined.

They bellowed again, claws tearing at Bo's arms which still held strong. "Tell me!"

Lovey, Trudy… help me! Stuttering only once, Judy then declared by the seat of her pants, "I name you!" she attempted, unable to get closer than his violent kicks allowed, Oh my gosh this is so weird… if I'm wrong then I need to cobble together a different plan, but if I'm right then Graham's psyche really did break in half! "Hector-"

He stopped struggling against the iron-hold, seething as he glared at Judy.

"Midgett!" she finished.

Hector Midgett heaved and growled, unable though he was to break free of Bo's lock. "I am no Midgett…" he defied, "My accursed father sold my foot as a charm and then me as food… I am a Howard, like my mother before me-"

"You are a dissociated identity," Judy argued, finally getting the chance to rush forward to grab a paw of his, eying the scratch marks across Bo's arms (and the utter confusion on his face), "developed from a trauma that Graham couldn't handle on his own-"

"I know what I am!" he barked, kicking Judy's solar plexus and headbutting Bo's nose, finally wiggling free, "Hours isolated to study and reflect in that witch's library of mental sickness… I don't know what she did to Graham to bind me to him…" he rued, "There are pages missing from my journal - my only means of knowing - answers I wished to every Star Above would be in that phantom book… but there's nothing! Only the lament of Lovey's death… a lament that I am already too familiar with… but there is one way I sever her hold on me, one secret I need…" Hector stood over Pop-Pop, grabbing his paw to demand anew, "Tell me, Otto…"

The old rabbit shriveled again, sobbing as he gazed up in abject terror.

"How did I die?" The question hung in the air like a miasma, the resulting silence palpable. "Was I cut down by the Royal Navy? Was I betrayed by my own crew? Assassinated? Did I hang for my crimes? Tell me!" he pleaded.

Pop-Pop sniffed… both Judy and Bo gradually recovering as his paw curled and gripped with what little strength he had left. "It was…" he tried, half-blind eyes blazing with righteousness as his teeth clenched at every attempt to sit up, "It was him who struck you down!

"As the kingdom mourned for Lovey, you sailed every bloodthirsty pirate and bandit under your colors into port… while flying a flag of surrender!" he continued in some renewed, if dwindling vigor, as though the shock in those dark eyes gave him the permission to boast despite his harried state, "Your monsters prowled the streets with prey brigands while everyone barred their doors and locked their windows… even the Blessed Court kept back, knowing that you outnumbered them ten-to-one… and then you flew in on your condor demon to where we lay Lovey on a bed of bay-leaves and flowers…" Pop-Pop grimaced with all his might. "You set a single red rose on her and kissed her as if you were some prince to bring her back… and then you flew off to the palace…

"Forestdwell cowered under your occupation, knowing how quickly those fiends could turn… And then… and then!" he choked, "You commanded your Cursed Crew to 'feast'! Every escape from the kingdom was blocked by your murderous band… the streets ran red… the buildings, razed to the ground… none were spared…" he sobbed, "Even King Wapitius, whose blood you bathed in before lashing him to your masthead… your mercenaries were overcome with greed as they ransacked the kingdom but they, too, were devoured and converted by your unholy horde… only us Hoppses remained…

"For days, the rainless storm continued as we huddled in our warren, wondering why you kept us alive… waiting for our turns to be eaten…" Pop-Pop said, "the Liondon Royal Navy came at last but couldn't approach… not until Captain Piberius Savage snuck past your blockade. Your nemesis drew you out of the ruined palace," the old rabbit recounted, heaving with excitement and exhaustion, "you chased each other through the wreckage of the kingdom, clashing swords until you met at the Iron Bridge, the only thing left standing… you thought you had him as he fell to the ground, disarmed… but that's just where he wanted you! Your hook was raised high to drive through his skull, the storm raging overhead…"

'In the name of Aslan… I strike you down!'

Pop-Pop trembled; perhaps triumphant, perhaps in awe. "The Stars Above smote you with a lightning bolt and you fell, off the top of the bridge to the stone below to reveal to the world what you really were," he defied, "nothing but bile and maggots!"

Dark eyes rescinded, petrified where he stood as it seemed that the whole house listened in…

"That's when Captain Savage raised his fist and the clouds parted, rallying the Royal Navy to fight the monsters reveling in the streets, for the body flailed after he cut off the head of the snake! We were saved-!" he exulted, heaving and then trembling as he clutched his chest to quell the jackhammer inside.

Judy was up, grabbing his nearby heart medicine and a glass of water to administer it as swiftly as she could. "Pop-Pop!" she attempted to soothe, bringing to bear every ounce of her training and empathy.

Bo was up, grabbing his cousin and pinning his arms to his body. "Let's try this again," he muttered under his breath, not giving him any wiggle room… but it hardly seemed necessary for so lifeless a body as his.

Some of the stronger Hoppses outside managed to force the study doors open through the pile of books. Suffice to say, there was quite a bit of explaining to do…


Judy knocked on the door of a spare bedroom as she shouldered her way in, taking care to balance the mugs of hot cocoa (topped with whipped cream and marshmallows). Graham… or Hector, perhaps… wasn't sitting on the bed of the room he was "grounded" to, but curled up in one of its corners. Coffee-spotted ears greeted her and then lay back down.

"I've got some hot cocoa," she offered, closing the door with her foot but when no immediate response came, added, "it's got nutmeg."

"Hot cocoa seems a tad inappropriate, given the circumstances," he said in a voice both eloquent and hoarse, "with or without nutmeg."

"I'll admit, 'tis not the season but I find that chocolate does wonders for a troubled soul," Judy explained as she walked over in some comfortable lounging pajamas and sat nearby with the tray, "and a warm beverage is just the thing for an upset tummy."

He curled up a bit tighter to ignore her.

She draped an arm over his shoulders but he shrugged it off and tilted his head away, so she sighed and picked up her mug. "Pop-Pop covered for you." His ears flicked and dark purple eyes peered over the folded arm at her, "It's true. No mention of an attack or anything, just that the bookcase fell, scared us half to death, and then proceeded to rant about how the 'blasted thing has been wobbling and teetering for months now'."

"…Why?"

Judy paused and smiled. "Either he sees some reason to help you or, perhaps more likely, genuinely believes that's what happened; there was a wobbly bookcase a few years ago that he'd go on about but it was fixed," she recalled, "Anyway, you should be grateful to Bo, he's the one who played along that the scratches on his arms are from the shelf; it almost fell on you and then you freaked out."

His face filled with a stony regret but instead of withering, he simmered. "I doubt that Bo was also senile and so probably expects some favor in turn."

"Not really," she said, "because of you, he learned the truth about what happened to Forestdwell. As a history scholar, he would have traded his lucky foot to know that."

Hector then looked at his right foot and clenched the toes.

Judy studied him. "You really are Hector Howard… aren't you?"

He did not answer immediately… or soon. "Only Clea calls me 'Hector'… Grav is a popular one, to further mock an infantile slurring of one's own name. If I may ask you a hypothetical question…" he posited, only then looking Judy directly in the eye, "Which chills your bones worse… that she has some dark sorcery to pull my soul from the Abyss to possess her son… or that she had the psychological tools to perfectly replicate one of the evilest monsters in all of history onto an unwilling subject?"

"…That's a tough one."

"You needn't answer," he forlornly permitted, "it's one of the many things that keeps us up at night."

"It sounds like you have an idea about how… this happened," Judy assumed, scooting in a bit closer but he shied away still.

"A theory, nothing more… I first recognized myself back in Graham's teenage years, sitting across a coffee table from Clea. You read my journal, you know that - in a former life - I had no sense of touch or pain, no fur color… so when I hit my once-missing right foot on the leg of the table, I nearly collapsed from the shock…" His face then seemed a bit brighter. "I had paws, all four of them, no bony claws… and my fur was rich, creamy butterscotch… my teeth weren't filed into fangs and my ears were intact… I no longer ached from bloodthirst… I thought I was in heaven or reborn

"I ran through the manor, jumped off a second balcony into the pool, rolled around the lawn… and try though I might to convince others to rejoice with me, they all feared me," he recalled, "Clea fetched me… reeled me back in. I was unconscious… we were unconscious… that's when I was put back into my corpse… and there was Graham, huddled over the mangled body of that stupid bird…"

"Cheepy… he still agonizes over him…"

"And that's when I saw it… the tree from which they all hanged."

"…Which tree is this?"

His brow arched. "You read my journal," he repeated, "and the poetry Graham wrote in the margins."

Judy's brow furrowed. "That 'Dead Tree' one was his? Like… about him?"

He gravely if curtly nodded. "You see, his first experience with death was of a rabbit so desperate to escape the Hopps Manor that they hung themselves from a tree in the garden using an electrical cord," Hector placidly recounted, "From the 'Dead Tree', however, hung all the dissociated identities born out of Graham's forced isolation. He never knew another's touch; he hardly knew conversation, so his psyche sought to remedy that." His brooding was unabashed and flagrant, resting a fist to his own temple. "Clea convinced each and every identity to kill themselves, one-by-one and whenever they popped up, even if they never actually 'died' since 'killing' eluded so naïve a mind as Graham's. It was my task to 'dispose of them'… and hearing Otto's account of Forestdwell, it's clear to me that I am long overdue for the same fate." Judy tried to hug him again but he threw her off and knocked over the hot cocoa, glaring.

The glare was coolly repaid. "Will that actually do anything?" she asked, using napkins from the tray to clean the spill, "Did it… terminate any of Graham's previous identities or are they part of your new Cursed Crew?"

A sneer icily mocked her. "Sly bunny. I cut down that tree and made it into a ship, turned them all into my crew to sail an ocean of blood. They're just like how Lovey described them: wretched abominations, amalgamate crimes against nature."

Another chill froze Judy's spine as she bundled up the soiled napkins. "That… but how? The method Bag-o'-Bones used to destroy the mind of a mammal, to control them… wasn't in the journal."

"I know," he quietly raged, the fur over his knuckles pulled taut, "Memories with no source… Surely, Clea detailed every page to Graham as a child but then removed some before entrusting him with the Black Book… It all bleeds together…" He then curled up a bit tighter. "What use is a monster who cannot kill…"

She paused, remembering the last time he said such a thing… the last time he truly opened up to her. "Back then, did you say that or did Graham?"

"…Does it matter?"

She pondered. "It might." That gentle fear was on her again and as before, she could not discern from whom it came. "Hector…" Judy attempted and touched his shoulder, gripping it when it tried to pull away, "would you look at me?"

He did.

She probed. "That wasn't the first time, was it?" Judy then asked, paw moving more toward the center of his back, "That Graham interacted with you?"

"…No. I was ready to drive the knife through your heart and end it all but… he stopped me. I'd never known him to interrupt me before…" Hector said, even withering some at the memory, "When we were teenagers, shortly after I came to be, I searched for the White Book in this very house-"

"You asked me to sing," she remembered, "I reminded you of Lovey."

He trembled. "Graham wanted to hear you but you terrify me, Judy Hopps…" he confessed, "I cannot kill you… I cannot hate you… but nor can I love you…"

"Why can't you? Love me as family-" she urged.

"Bah!" he interjected, "There's more from the missing pages. I… Hector scoured the world seeking evil greater than he, convinced that devouring them would sate his bloodlust but it never did… Lovey was innocent, good and yet she was hanged… so he condemned Forestdwell as the greatest source of evil in the world and sailed on it, ruing that he must 'shoulder the sword of justice'. I didn't know what happened after that until tonight…" he dreadfully speculated, "surely, he drank the blood of King Wapitius but went into a rage when it still didn't quell his ravenous thirst… so he turned his monsters on the kingdom to sate their bloodlust and like on the Willowbranch, enveloping himself in their unholy pleasure.

"Hector was a powerful empath… feeling only ridicule, revulsion, rage, hunger, terror his entire life…" he cringed, "not even death can put me to rest." It seemed, at last, that he was willing to allow Judy's embrace. "What use is a bunny who cannot love…"

"I love you," she softly said.

"You alone in all the world," he mumbled, "I am pestilence, a regurgitant from the Abyss."

She chose her words carefully. "Maybe not. You see, Graham is a lot like Gideon… he too has someone sharing his headspace." Judy waited until his ears flipped up. "It's true, you met him when you revealed that muzzle. His name is 'Lenny' and Gid's family calls him a 'guardian angel'," she continued when his eyes trepidatiously wondered.

"That is to say…" he aloud considered, "I was brought back… to protect a child? Me?"

Judy gravely nodded but tried her best to not seem… so grave about it. "Well… think about whom he needed protecting from. Look…" she continued when he seemed dumbstruck, "however you came about, what matters is the decisions you make. Bag-o'-Bones is dead so that just leaves… you, whatever you decide to do with yourself."

The butterscotch rabbit stared at his toes for a bit. "Lovey was right…" he finally accepted, "I seek absolution and rest above all else… what I wouldn't give to know what I wrote in those letters to her, how she came to such a conclusion… for I am worthy of neither…" And then, he pulled out his phone to navigate to a gray lock symbol. "I could not even protect a child…"

"Hector… you rescued Graham from the Abyss, I'm sure of it," she tried, "if Magnus and Clea really got their hooks in him, irrevocably, then I would have never escaped from the Manor."

"Perhaps…"

"There is some merit to that, right?"

Silence perpetuated until she sighed once more.

"That is for a higher court to decide. For the here and now, I… might be of some actual help, if nothing else," he cautiously offered, "My search for the missing journal pages figured that Clea hid them on Hexward's secret partition… and she had. I learned of only a sliver what was there, unable to read anymore…"

Judy sympathized before she brightened. "You are the sixth voiceprint! Which is why the wax cylinder recording didn't work because it didn't contain the passcode!"

"Indeed… Some years ago, there was a narrow window of opportunity of the greatest chance that I bypassed their security so, in my madness, I added my own name as an administrator but also… created a voice lock that I could not hope to replicate. I tried a thousand times and a thousand times again but… I think… I think I remember how I felt in that instant… but I must first request something of you…" he said, looking up to her.

"Yes, yes, name it!"

"Would you sing for me? Please?"

Judy smirked and then tried her best impression of her great-great-aunt's speech. "Well, 'A lady and a Hopps must always keep their promises'. Come here," she agreed and held him a bit closer to sing the one song that she could off the top of her head (that wasn't Gazelle): 'If You Would Come With Me'.

The butterscotch rabbit wasn't listening very long before he trembled and quaked against her granite composure, his voice wavering over the phone and its encrypted access to a server over two-hundred miles away. "Lovey… can you ever forgive me?"

So, the lullaby petered off as her bright purple eyes met his dark ones and with a single nod, she touched his forehead to him… and he exhaled with a serenity beyond either of their comprehension. The gray icon pondered… and then unlocked with a chime.

"Hello Hector."

Ever vigilant, Judy cradled the phone in one paw and her farm-cousin's head in the other to say, "Transfer admin rights for 'Hector Howard' to 'Judy Hopps'," and then continued, ''What, anything?'."

"Hello Judy," the phone responded, "Voiceprint confirmed. Processing… Transfer complete."

"Clear logs and lock server, please-and-thank-you~"

"Logs cleared. Have a blessed evening."

Judy sighed as she rubbed Graham's back, he gently stirring to sit up. "Feel better?"

"A bit, yes," he said and rubbed his head… noticed the remaining cup of hot cocoa and picked it up, "thank you." He sipped. "Still warm." The butterscotch rabbit did not seem confused or bewildered, as though he were thrust onstage, but more like he'd only just turned around to face the audience.

"Are you… Graham?" she probed. The memory of being shocked at hearing Gideon's slightest degree of difference in his voice when Lenny came about remained one of Judy's most prominent from that night. The voice she currently heard used to be a repetitive "I'm here", as though claws scraping from inside a box… but at the moment, the scraping sounded more like the first scratches in dirt to till a field.

"The one and only," he dully answered, "He's… I think he's gone? I think they're all gone…"

She leaned on him and he didn't seem to mind. "You said you didn't know where to find Hector," Judy teased but then frowned as he withered.

"I didn't know it was him…" Graham admitted, "he was always just… someone there… I thought he was me but just… dark… always looming over my shoulder, keeping everyone else away… it's hard to explain…"

Her head shook. "Don't worry about it, I probably wouldn't understand anyway. So…" she tested, "how are we doing?"

Graham didn't answer at first, simply staring at his nutmeg-coated marshmallows. "It's quiet."

Judy nodded and stood up with the tray. "Let's get some sleep, it's been a long day and-"

"Candleflame, wait," he beseeched, clambering to his feet (trying not to spill the cocoa), "I know I'm 'grounded' but… may I come with you? I'm in no position to ask anything, granted… I just don't want to be alone."

"Sure thing, Little Moth," the gray bunny accepted, shared in his smile, and nodded over her shoulder, "Get the door for me?"

"Y-Yeah," Graham said and followed suit to join her with the rest of the Hoppses.


As was the custom during her visits, Judy and Bo engaged in some pre-dawn stretches, cardiovascular exercises, endurance training, and then quickly washed to join other early-risers for a hearty breakfast of oatmeal and choice berries (and each swiped a honeyed pancake prepared for late risers, of which extras were made specifically for swiping). There they met Graham, whose intensity was at an all-time low after the whole-family hug from the night prior; his transition into the breakfast table was nearly seamless, despite the odd kiss on the cheek or rub of an ear from an older relation.

"He's like a completely different bunny," Bo observed, "Yet… not, if that makes sense?"

"There's some lingering trepidation, I think, but all-in-all…" Judy agreed, "he's definitely more amiable."

"And we have you to thank, Juju."

"Oh, I was only there to catch him. He brought himself up by his own strength," she assured.

"There were a few bunnies eavesdropping outside his door last night after you brought in the hot cocoa," he explained, "but I made sure you had your privacy."

"And you didn't listen in?" she teased.

"I was sorely tempted! But no, I did not," he proudly affirmed, "despite the hint of your singing."

He chuckled as she swooned.

"You were instrumental too, Bobo, that family hug wouldn't have gone nearly as well if you hadn't played along with the bookcase falling over on its own. So… thank you," she said and hopped up to kiss his cheek.

He beamed and then checked his arms. "It's a good thing that bunny claws aren't very sharp or else he might've broken pelt. But," Bo then whispered, "Graham actually initiated a hug last night." Judy gasped her excitement. "It's true! He asked for another inspection of his muscular degradation which, as you know, is only needed every couple of days but I figured he was a bit shook, so I complied," he said and to which she nodded her agreement, "There wasn't a lot of difference, obviously, except he was much more permissive and about halfway through, he just hugged me!

"Also," he continued, bringing Judy in closer with a swivel of his ears, arm about her shoulders to whisper in his lowest yet still audible voice, "he vented to me, worried about those aeronauts that he needs to send into Reino del Sol."

They shared a grim nod.

"Graham's edge has dulled with his spiritual recovery, unfortunately," Judy ceded, "and we don't exactly have time for him to get it back…"

"We talked about it last night. After I get to the championship of the MMA - win or lose - I'll come out as the long-lost son of Bertie and Mary-Ann Briar, using that wave of clout to give a heroic speech to the aeronauts to get them back on board," Bo said.

She gasped and gleed, but then grunted. "Even though they're mostly bats and flying squirrels?"

"The ground team is," he specified, "the control team in Knotash has plenty of bunnies in it-"

"And if you convince them-!"

"Then the aeronauts should come along, too! According to Graham, at least," Bo said as they lifted from their huddle for him to rub his paws, "I even have an idea of what I want to tell them."

She smirked. "Is it from Captain Warren?"

He pouted. "…Not all of it. There are plenty of historical generals I can pull from, too." They both chuckled as she punched his shoulder, looking up as Graham joined them from the kitchen.

"We're heading off to Preds' Corner soon, then?" he asked.

"Just about," Judy said, "You've decided to come along?"

"I'd like to," Graham said, "if you'll have me."

"Of course!" Bo assured, "You seemed hesitant earlier, is all."

Graham scratched behind a coffee-spotted ear. "I don't handle myself well when idle and while games and the like are… adequately time-consuming, I want to do a bit more than that. More to the point, I simply cannot pass up an opportunity to meet the hare who raised you, Flemish, he sounds like a right card of a character."

Judy giggled. "'Flemish'?" she inquired, "After Sir Flanders Lapis?"

"I like it," Bo said, "turns out that there's a Liondon rabbit rugby team called the 'Fighting Flemish'; from whom I might draw some inspiration for my training regimen."

The bucks chatted as bunnies gathered into the family van, including Judy, Bo, and Graham. Their conversation about health, exercise, and other rabbit sports teams transitioned into events of historical significance and how it applied to what they learned from Lovey's diary (which was kept mum). Generally speaking, it was all a buzz to her, reflecting on what happened not only all of the day and night prior, but her nighttime visitor. She looked to her grandfather as they pulled away from the house and he seemed completely normal…

Pop-Pop had met Judy in the kitchen as she grabbed a drink of water and once again mistook her for Trudy (not that she minded too much). They sat at the table and reminisced about days that weren't in the diary, she playing along as best she could (Nick taught her well how to appear to know exactly what she was talking about) and simply enjoyed hearing of life on the Hopps Estate. It was sort of fun until Pop-Pop ventured into the days after.

No one ever asked about what happened to the Hoppses of Forestdwell for fear of triggering Pop-Pop's post-traumatic stress. Everyone knew that he claimed it was the "Barbearian hordes" (as was taught in school), managed to escape thanks to the Liondon Royal Navy, enlisted as a communications officer (as all naval bunnies did at the time), toured once, met up with Francine Hopps - Lovey's niece who earned the scholarship to study abroad - and with her, settled the family farm in Bunnyburrow.

Their conversation was navigated with the greatest care and, luckily, there were a few of her siblings who left their phones to charge on the kitchen counter, so she grabbed one (that didn't have a lock code) and opened a new voice memo. What was said did not matter as much as Judy comforting her grandfather in his reliving a horror that his senility unveiled one final time. It wasn't until she guided him back to bed and had a chance to send the memo to herself (deleting it off her sibling's phone) and then reviewed it did she truly understand…


They Came

They came one day. The monsters that ravaged Forestdwell were slain by the Royal Navy of Liondon, stretched thin though they were across the world; a statement was required from whoever survived so that history might know the truth. Only the Hoppses of Primrose Court remained of a once-great kingdom that stood as a beacon for prosperity and justice a few weeks prior… their hovel was visited by Them.

"The world will know what it needs to know; that will be our duty, not yours," They declared, "Let the records show that the Hoppses of Primrose Court died to the most terrible misfortune of 'warren collapse'."

"No!" Diocles sobbed and begged, throwing himself to Their mercy but met only deaf ears, so he begged all the fiercer, "Please, if no one else, spare the children; they're innocent and will never tell!"

"No exceptions."

Otto awoke in pain, squeezed between three hardy slabs of stone. The stomping of those giant mammals stopped so that spears could skewer the dirt at any dying groans. He'd passed out, waiting for it all to end. There was no sound and after he managed to wrench his arm free, he dug up through the blood-soaked dirt of a mass grave, breaking into the open air and filling his lungs at last. He sobbed and coughed as he remembered the muffled screams of terror under the ground.

"Scarlet."

His head and ears whipped about at such contempt to find that They had never left. Otto choked, horror-stricken by his muddy, red-stained fur to then wail and plead, "No, I'm a Hopps, a Hopps!"

A wildebeest's hoof grabbed him and threw him at Their feet only to be dragged by his ear toward the smoldering ruins of Forestdwell.

"You were there that night on the Willowbranch," They growled, the rage within boiling to burst, "If not for you, the Hoppses would have never chanced upon Captain Savage and a Loxley; Bag-o'-Bones would have never attacked your ship and met Laverne; he would have never gone beyond our control and besieged Forestdwell… The world is destroyed because of you, Scarlet! Look at what you've done!"

"No, no…!" Otto continued to sob, "I'm a Hopps!"

"Spin lies to your foul heart's content but your blood shall never curse this land. There's one way and one way alone to kill a Scarlet: in service to a fox. Luckily, we happen to have a bloodwitch for you to burn with, and your ashes will be scattered to the winds along with her."

Otto wailed and thrashed in protest but was clubbed in the head, quieted once more.

It was hot. The air thick with smoke. Otto was in a cage of tightly bound wood… and he was not alone.

"He's not going anywhere," said one voice outside the cage.

"I want to see him die," They said.

"Whatever. Shame about Forestdwell; it had such promise."

"They always do… and we were so close this time."

"Inevitable, unfortunately."

"How do you mean?"

"Simply put, we must adapt, progress if we are to remain ahead of the curve; we barely kept this one contained and will not be so lucky the next go-around."

"The romance of kingdoms and pirates is over, I suppose."

"Good riddance. Wapitius rode my last nerve and we're finally free of his toxic idealism. We really could not have asked for a better way to dispose of him than the fall of his kingdom. I hear Bag-o'-Bones hunted down that old fox of his as soon as he flew to the palace."

"'Blest be'. Blasted fools must have thought they got away with it up until the end."

"All that remains is to make him a… a war hero, I suppose; there should still be a Barbearian horde left to blame this on."

"That will have to do. Where to next, then?"

"A city across the sea, Zootopia; already a bustling mercantile hub, species from all over the world, growing technologically…"

"Like Liondon."

"I certainly hope not; what a nightmare that was. It has a few quaint little rabbit communities nestled into place, as it so happens."

"Charming, there should hardly be a bother at all."

"Knotash is especially promising with an established House of Blessings; Deerbrooke isn't too far behind it, hardly worth mentioning. Bunnyburrow will be easier to assimilate, though, we need only be patient."

"And why is that?"

"The surrounding farms of Forestdwell are populating it as we speak."

"Not with the knowledge of what happened here, I hope."

"Of course not, that dirt-farming rabble could barely read and their gossip was easily controlled. Now come, the ship's leaving soon and you cannot even see him through the smoke."

"Very well. Actually, I thought up a rather tidy end to this whole 'Laverne' debacle; it came to me as I imagined the bloodwitch tearing out his throat as they burned…"

"Otto?" someone asked.

"Trudy?" he disbelieved but welcomed, "Trudy!"

"Otto!" Trudy wept, holding him within their fiery cage, keeping as low as they possibly could.

"Why are you here? I thought you escaped!"

"I did… we found somewhere safe for our kit to be born and then Piberius hurried back here to help however he could… I hear it took a half-dozen of those monsters to finally bring him down after Bag-o'-Bones died. It will be a legend for the ages," she then coughed, "They found us, though, so Sasha fled with our kits while Gus and Ellie kept Them back… You should have seen how they fought to keep me safe!"

"What are we going to do?" he begged, trembling within the encroaching pyre.

"The ropes are strong," she confessed, revealing the splinters and rope fibers in her claws and gums, and then moved to show that she had dislodged a knot in one of the planks of the cage's floor, "This hole is too small for me but you can squeeze through!"

"Trudy, no, don't make me leave you!"

"You must," she implored and coughed, from under her pulling out two books, one already charred black, "One of these is Lovey's diary… I cannot say much about the other except that They wanted it forgotten, so it must be important. Take them both, Otto, run and hide until you are strong enough to speak up…"

And so he did but not until she nearly shoved him down the hole and threw the books onto him.

And so he ran, sobbing as the smoke still stung his eyes and lungs with each stride, keeping low and behind the rubble, eventually finding a naval officer… But he was a clever rabbit, one must be to grow up in the company of foxes, and explained that he had no knowledge of what happened, except for some confirmation of a Barbearian horde. As it was, the name "Otto" - meaning "fortune" - and "Hopps" were both common enough to be overlooked as any buck, and with his pitiable appearance, he was not pressed for information.

And so he hid. For a few years, he kept the books a secret, only ever opening Lovey's diary to record what happened but never daring to read either account. He found Francine in Liondon, courted her, explained everything that happened… and the two of them moved to Bunnyburrow when it was clear to them that They might have still waited for anyone to emerge who knew the truth, even after all that time. At last, they could breathe easily in a new home, a new life amongst the swell of immigrating rabbits. Like leaves in a forest.

And so they stayed quiet. Being refugees from Forestdwell but latecomers, the plot of land they were allotted on which to rebuild was a densely forested area, along with everything adjacent, but they were happy in the tiny grove that their tiny family started. All was well.

They came one day, the Tri-Burrow Reunion Board. Petunia Lawng, Üther Wahrheitbegraber, and a young Reginald Hopps (who was filling in as a junior executive) visited to talk of many things… to assure his silence one way or the other. Reginald did not fully grasp what was being obfuscated, a second-generation junior executive that he was, and sympathized with Otto, brokering a deal with him and Francine to appoint them as caretakers of a larger farm in exchange for their compliance. With that, the Hopps family grew and grew and grew, unknowingly the stewards of a terrible secret.

And so… they stayed quiet. Lovey was spoken of with reverence and the clever Mr. Fox as a benevolent trickster of the household. Francine took the secret to her grave. Otto grew senile, his love for the housefoxes of the Hopps Estate on Primrose Court braided with the prejudice against foxes in Bunnyburrow and his own life experiences… In time, he forgot why he loved them, even that love never really went away. Love never does. As for Trudy… his aging mind misremembered her as anything more than a legend until he said her name aloud one day… but was corrected, for the newborn bunny was actually named "Judy".


"Thank you, Trudy," Pop-Pop said as he was helped out of the van by his granddaughter.

"Judy," Judy kindly reminded.

"Oh, yes," he accepted with an adjustment of his glasses.

She leaned over and kissed his soon smiling cheek (and was tickled by his whiskers) as they were joined by Stu, Bonnie, Bo, and Graham.

"Welp, here we go," Stu assured everybunny else, tucking a legal folder under his arm as they walked the rest of the way to the wolf apple greenhouse, deep in the forests between Preds' Corner and the Honey Hills. It was a winding road that mimicked a mountain path for any larger species, but the small rabbit van was able to duck beneath roots along a byway established specifically to reach the greenhouse (but also cleverly hidden by anyone who did not have a particular GPS route programmed into their phone).

Who immediately welcomed the bunnies was a boisterous hare in a white button-up over a red tee with a build and fur color not too afar from Bo's (except a bit taller and a bit lighter); certainly, if one did now know better, he could have easily been mistaken for Bo's father. He guffawed in greeting while sprinting to throw his arm around Bo's neck in a sort of exuberant hug (who chuckled and scratched his nose). "Bo, m'lad, it's great to see you!" he thusly declared, ushering him further along with a turn of the heel before (momentarily) addressing Graham and progressing to name in quick succession, "Stu, Bonnie, Otto, and of course, Bunnyburrow's prettiest belle, Judy!"

Bo spun right back around to also hook an arm around his guardian's neck but in more of a choke than a hug. Graham watched.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice, Max," Stu said, though keeping a safe distance as the hare and his prodigy wrestled in place (Bonnie mutely expressing concern), "You said on the phone that it won't be a problem and I hope that's still the case."

Hearty guffawing continued as Max reversed the headlock. "No task is too great for the likes of me!" he boasted, a flailing Bo quite casually secured into his armpit. Graham groaned dubiously. "He's fine," Max assured and then dropped the chocolate rabbit with another guffaw, "but he'll need to be a hundred times better when he gets to the Septagon!"

Judy felt no urge to intervene, not when her boyfriend then suplexed Max. So, she sauntered over and asked his blinking, spinning eyes, "How is the apiary coming along?"

Some weak guffawing answered initially. "Jus' swell, lemme show ya'," Max slurred, grasping the offered mitt from Bo to return him to his feet. Only a shake of the head and a laugh was needed to get his spirit back.

"So…" Graham whispered to Judy and Bo while Stu talked logistics with the hare, "that's Max?"

"You're right, he's quite the character," Judy concurred.

"Is sparring a normal hare greeting at Honey Hills?" he then asked.

"Only if it's been a while," Bo explained, "otherwise we'll have fistfights near about everywhere."

"I couldn't help but notice that there wasn't anything… violent about it," Graham observed.

Bo then laughed. "Of course not, it's blows to the chest, arms, and shoulders, and only to the gut or face if you're not paying attention," he explained, "And if you think the hares are rowdy, you should see the bears go at it," and then whistled low, "we're downright civil by comparison."

Pop-Pop hobbled along with the aid of his daughter, placid in his observation of the grand greenhouse secreted away in the deciduous primeval of Bunnyburrow's outskirts, far beyond where even the "boondocks" dared go. He smacked his lips as they circumnavigated around back.

A few denizens from Preds' Corner were already present, each with tools and materials to construct the needed extension for the beehives. Tod Tweed was up on the top of a wooden skeleton along with his twin daughters. Gabe and Bobby Catmull were not in their usual attire (or in the latter's case, lack of attire; the naturalist finally caved to the insistence of his older brother to wear a pair of loose shorts), and along with Jaguardo Chá, appeared the epitome of casual farmboys (despite their professions of deputy and actuary). Also present was none other than Goliath Grey, similarly lacking in any kind of formal coverings, who waved and welcomed around a mouthful of nails.

Succinct greetings and other such appropriate exchanges commenced as Judy nearly bounded through the air to greet her school-days theatre troupe, Bobby and Jaguardo, with Bo and Graham neatly in tow (each with their own feelings and exchanges with those whom they shared a schoolyard all those years ago). The cats were already marginally familiar with the hare who raised Bo as a teenager, having been there most of the morning. Despite Graham's past as a bully, he was as received as Judy was herself, the air not tense until the subject of his parentage was breached by Henry Deneday, a congenially large bear in a dingy top hat who was something of a "master of ceremonies" for the Honey Hills (tasked mainly with managing its local events and acting a go-between for everyone on the outside).

"Ah, yes, you must be his son!" the hare jubilantly declared, finger pointed and then swiped through the air as though some great revelation, "Of course, how could I have missed those spots on your ears? Why, for no other reason than a complete lack of his evil!" Max's grin was nearly luminescent from the shock on Graham's face.

"As it turns out," Henry explained, his demeanor quite demure with an accent and pace epitomizing country hospitality, "Magnus paid the Honey Hills a visit some decades ago, asking about those Night Howlers that did rise in importitude with the Pred Scare. We do not partake in the flowers, as most know, for they do our bees a nasty turn but as he looked for honey, well, we could hardly turn him away. It was the darling Ruth Grey's inquirisition about anyone else looking for Knottedwood honey that led me to recall him."

In a blink, Max's arm was around Graham's shoulders so to lean in covertly (but not necessarily quietly), "You can only get Night Howler honey from the Hills, a little secret of ours which he somehow heard about."

"But we are bears, after all," Henry tacked on, "we respect the privacy of our business partners. And to open trade with the Knottedwood foxes was exemplordinary, so their trust was worth its weight in gold." He then pondered. "If trust had a tangifiable weight, that is."

"Magnus is tenacious, though," Graham inferred, "He'd not have been so afar of the city unless he caught blood in the water (so to speak)."

"He was downright vicious," the hare dramatized, "and cunning… but not more than I!" he boasted, "I got him talking, you see, and learned that he wanted the Knottedwood honey for some manner of nefarious plan. He even tried to hire me, of all things, but I saw that murderous glint in his eye, right behind his smile. That's when he proposed a contest, thinking he could best me in a feat of athleticism! The wager? A secret of his for a secret of mine."

The butterscotch bunny blinked… and then addressed Bo. "You never knew that Magnus went to the Honey Hills and confronted your guardian?"

Bo shook his head. "It was long before I got there."

"And he didn't call himself 'Magnus'," Henry added, "It's not unusual for troublemakers to come around."

"Rather intriguing, I'd say," Judy input, "So, what kind of trouble did he make, Max?"

He unslung his arm and hopped about in place, dukes up. "The poor devil thought to loosen my lips by first loosening my jaw," he grinned and jabbed at the air several times in succession, "had a deadly jab on him, too, which I discovered when his first punch gave me a dead leg and then followed with an uppercut. It was a contest of combat, he and I, so I thought to be a good sport, you see, give the city-bunny a fighting chance but hear you me, Max Hareton doesn't make the same mistake twice."

Graham shuddered but maintained himself.

"I can see this upsets you," Max noticed and perhaps seemed… somber, which in contrast to the rest of him, was very out of place, "I'll cut to the chase, then: we were both bloody and bruised, barely standing, and accepted a draw… until he charged me with a knife." He paused for effect. "So I spun back around and grabbed him by the ears, flailing him against the ground! A few times, for good measure," he then bragged, back to his usual self, "Magnus was dragged off by his cohorts and could we learn no secret of his."

Henry hemmed and hawed. "Other than that he wanted the honey for some woolly folk very interested in properties of the Night Howler," the bear recalled, "Wonder if he meant those fiendish rams raising havoc at the TBR? It was several years ago, granted-"

"Of course not; the honey had to do with the Pred Scare!" Max dismissed with a swat of his paw. "That's why he came around, looking for ways to process Night Howler into food. He is a food processor, after all, it's basic logic…"

Judy, Bo, and Graham exchanged knowing looks. There was no doubt that Magnus sought the toxic flower for the Supais back then, since Dawn Bellwether would not be involved with him and Clea until years later (to the best of their knowledge) but it would be a discussion for another day.

Not too far off, down an erected beam did a familiar foxy face descend to land before the elder Hoppses, hammer gesturing at the frame and paneling already being attached. "Howdy, Stu, Bonnie; how's it looking so far?" Tod Tweed asked. His overalls looked in good need of mending; the hems were frayed, denim was faded, once bright clasps and buttons a muddy-brown with use, and only one strap remained to keep it all on him (they were what one could describe as "working clothes"). He certainly exemplified the farm-fox, from his simple smile to his gruff fur but he still had the iconic agility of his species, if recognizably more resilient due to a country upbringing and the fathering of a litter of kits; his grin didn't hide a snarl, though, because as his neighbors would say, Tod's was a "right proper" upbringing.

"Looks great, as best I can tell!" Stu answered with a chuckle, "Not that I would know, that's why I brought in a specialist but…" he groaned and rubbed his chin, "it was my understanding that this greenhouse wasn't permanent. Will it be a nursery for future solanum lycocarpum plants?"

The fox doubted as he scratched his back with the claw of his tool. "Not for me to say, I'm only going with what Henry and Goliath had in mind. The Honey Hills folks just went on about how we need this and that for the Knottedwood bees. I assumed you both okayed them?"

"Knottedwood bees?" Bonnie wondered, "Are they necessary? Or even possible?"

Tod laughed. "Gosh, we don't have a lot of answers for each other, do we? But you should have heard them go on about it, Max and Charmagne - she's the beekeeper from the Wood, y'see - it was like two kits in a candy store," he explained, "Best I can figure, they're bringing in their Shepherd's Folly (that's what they call Night Howler) to breed with the wolf apple."

Stu gasped, ears twitching overhead. "That could solve the issues with the solanum's climate specificities! It would be an indigenous plant, after all," the honorary doctor of plant husbandry declared, "We could grow droves of them in a generation or two."

"Yep, sure could," Tod played along.

"This 'Shepherd's Folly' flower must be closely related enough to cross-pollinate…" he considered.

Bonnie sighed in a mixture of humor and pride. "Alright, Stu, remember why we're here," she said and touched his arm, "talk shop afterward."

Pop-Pop patiently smacked his lips and sighed, looking Tod up and down. The fox paid him a polite smile and a gentle nod was returned. The contemplative swaying of his ears throughout the conversation had stopped, relaxing atop his head with a characteristic bend in one.

"Right, right; let's gather everybunny up," Stu responded and settled down as he thumped his foot to garner attention from the younger ones of their traveling party, "You said that the Knottedwood foxes are nearby?"

Tod nodded over his shoulder. "The missus is keeping him company. G'on 'round the side, they're behind that thicket," he then chuckled, "Jus' follow the noise."


An enclosed canopy stood not to necessarily shade its occupants but to protect them from any falling tree-stuff and wayward insects, the gentle buzzing which filled the air soon identified as that of medical equipment and an accompanying generator (along with the aforementioned insects). Amidst the digital hum was a pained, discomforted groan sandwiched between a sliding spectrum of consolation that ranged from concern to disregard.

"You're fine," Dr. Madge Honey-Badger said.

He groaned and growled and seemingly thrashed against some manner of restraints.

"Don't worry, it's just a bit longer," Vixey Tweed assured and then her silhouette addressed the stoic predatrician, "Right?"

"That really depends on how long he plans to-" she started to say, flinched, and then her fangs were quite visible on her profile, "Keep flailing and I will hit you again!"

"Just let me scratch my eyes out!" an older male voice then demanded, his tone a perplexing mixture of crotchety and grandfatherly, his accent long-since separated from Liondon, "Or dig out my sinuses with a knife, at least."

"Knock, knock?" Judy announced, having noticed their ears already flicking at the approach of her and her family, so simply poked her head in to request entry.

"Hey, Judy," Madge said, "C'mon in, we're finishing up here."

"Balderdash," the old fox groaned, "if I'm lucky, I'll die of old age before suffering the full extent of this so-called 'modern medicine'." The fact that he was strapped to a chiropractor's chair with a bowl affixed beneath his bleeding nose with electrodes attached to his chest, back, and head certainly supported his doubt. Tinted goggles covered his eyes but when Vixey unclasped them, the near luminescence - Savage greens - immediately confirmed his identity. "Oh, cheers," he greeted with a nod of his head, only to continue in a stage whisper, "Doctor, am I to be restrained and half-naked in the presence of guests? What have I done to deserve such treatment…"

Vixey sighed, already in the process of undoing the belts on his forehead, shoulders, and wrists, and then his chest, waist, ankles, and tail. "Please don't mind us," she then said to the perplexed rabbits, "and sorry, Pibbs, but maybe if you hadn't kept squirming like a worm, we could've been done with this long before guests ever came around." Mrs. Tweed then stood a straightened out her sleeveless, low-cut dress, a weathered and mended piece of simplicity that did well to accentuate the shape of a mother on the farm in an other-side-of-the-fence greener color (and apparently, her mate's missing flannel shirt tied around her waist).

Dr. Honey closed the laptop and disconnected it from the medical equipment that her patient was hooked up into, also sighing and rubbing her forehead. "Your daughter wasn't half so troublesome… but then, she didn't turn down the sedative and coagulants," the badger remarked as she cleaned up the bloody paper towels, "I've seen kits take shots better than you."

"And none of mine ever drew a sword-cane," Vixey then teased and Mr. Savage shrugged in good-humor as he stood (still a bit wobbly), she handing over his shirt, "Here you are, so make yourself decent to receive these upstanding rabbits." The maternal fox then greeted each the bunnies as she walked by for her exit, "I'll see you all in a bit, get you some sweet tea poured for a nice chat when this business is said-and-done," she offered.

"I didn't think it was possible that there was a fox in this world that drove me crazier than Nick," Madge muttered under her breath while packing up her equipment for easy carrying, "and then I met his dad… and his granddad." She exchanged a salty expression with the old tod but when she turned a shoulder on him, a delighted expression crossed her face even before she gave the properly polite farewells to the bunnies, "If you'll excuse me, I have some biometric data to compile for you to get to Rocky. We'll catch up afterward, yeah? Help yourself to any of the snacks."

Piberius Savage. His face was honeyed after the bit of banter with the doctor, switching between irredeemable crotchetiness to grandfatherly benevolence as easily as one might flip channels on a television. Before he had a chance to button up, a life of adventure and danger was detailed in the scars across his torso and arms, those that were visible through the silvering crimson of his scruffy, rugged pelt, at any rate. Long were the days of the sleek fur of a tod in his prime, given way to a wily codger whose posture and gnarled paws spoke of an individual that far too often alluded death.

"He can't be over eighty," Bonnie whispered to her fluffle, face distorted in rapt disbelief, "it's just not fair."

"He is, Mom," Judy said, "I heard it from Nick who heard it from Ruth; apparently, the Knottedwood slows aging."

"How is that possible?" Graham quietly demanded, perhaps a bit excitedly.

"Ask him," Bo suggested, perhaps a bit flippantly. He exchanged a leer with his cousin.

Stu proceeded when the old fox affixed his cuffs and shouldered his suspenders, turning around to pick up his nondescript cane (and since Vixey mentioned it, indeed had a distinct crease between the metal head and wooden shaft, all with a polished finished). "Admiral Savage, an honor to finally meet you," Stu said, "Stu Hopps, and this is my mate, Bonnie, Otto, Judy, Bo, and Graham."

The fox tipped an invisible hat before leaning forward on his cane. "Pleasures abound," he said and then snorted, whipping out a handkerchief to dab a stray droplet of blood from his nose, "Confound it, I'll be leaking for who knows how long. Please, let's sit down. Can I get you any juice, perhaps? I remember where the good doctor hid some of her spirits, as well," he enticed with a grin, "She thinks I didn't notice her grabbing the neck of some bottle before stashing it again; it seems I follow in the pawprints of my son and his son in causing her no end of grief because I could not discern whether she intended to swig it or swing it." He'd laugh, offering the chairs to the females and bringing them all over to a cushioned bench.

A thousand things buzzed through Judy's head… questions to ask, stories to hear, a lifetime to make known to the world… but that moment wasn't about her. "Admiral Savage-"

"Please," the fox insisted after they'd all gotten comfortable, "call me 'Pibbs' or 'Grampub', if you are so inclined. Consider me an 'admiral' in name only."

Judy nodded as she then glanced to her grandfather, whose ears twisted and tuned like a radio antenna, pointing more and more at Pibbs with each word he spoke. "Pibbs, speaking of your grandson, he asked me to pass along a message: he and his tech friend, Rocky, have almost finished the prototype gear needed to allow you and the rest of the Knottedwood foxes to leave without suffering too much from that affliction," she reported and then gestured over her shoulder at the chair he was strapped to earlier, "He still needs a few volunteers in the city to calibrate you to its electrical field, but after that, we won't need to do this one-by-one 'power through the pain', like what John did."

"Thank Aslan," Pibbs exhaled, "my greatest dread was forcing everyone else to suffer this…" He shook his head. "That is a relief to hear, Judy, thank you for lightening an old heart. We still need to find permanent accommodations, of course, but that bright young Jaguardo might know some mammals who can help in that regard, and that Deputy Gabe told me about a field of tents for short-term housing as well, at least for some of us. As it is, our oldest won't be leaving at all, opting to stay behind and live out their days in peace."

"You're not the oldest?" Graham suddenly said.

Pibbs laughed again. "I'm up there, young buck, but some of us are pushing eleventy-one," he said and grinned to their disbelief, right before he groaned, "I must say that my short time outside has certainly made me feel my age."

"The unique electrical field must keep the muscles limber and vascular system strong," Bo considered, "like constantly doing cardio exercises in everyday activity." He then twiddled his fingers and nodded, "Is that really a sword-cane?" he asked. The fox's grin continued as he drew the hidden blade out just far enough to confirm its presence (a well-kept piece of metal it was, too), to which Bo was utterly delighted. "Not a fan of shots, huh? Me, neither."

Bright green eyes smiled as they rolled. "I spent most of my life avoiding sharp objects, so call it a force of habit."

Judy looked first to her grandfather as he adjusted his glasses… and felt nearly electric with anticipation. She looked to her patient parents, knowing that they were brought up to speed on what was planned but needed to let things happen in their own time. "So…" Judy continued.

"You lot are here for more than that message," Pibbs calmly realized, "noticed it the minute I laid eyes on you. I think you've built the suspense quite enough, though, wouldn't you say?"

The younger gray rabbit giggled. "You really are Nick's grandpa."

"Actually, yes, as it so happens," the older gray rabbit said as she pulled a document out from the legal binder which her mate brought in and presented it to the fox.

Stu then explained, "There's a plot of land not too far from here that was allocated to Otto and Francine back in the day - before they moved to the big farm, y'see - and we were going to sell it because it's just so overgrown with woodland and sunken groves, that it'd take generations to break even on the cost to clear it for a farm. Instead… we want you to have it."

"We heard from Ruth that it's similar to the Knottedwood, it just needs a bit of development," Bonnie added on, pointing over her shoulder, "and we know a few mammals who can help with that, in addition to those nice predators working on the greenhouse."

Pibbs minutely reeled. "That… that's quite generous…" he said in something of a shock, eyes clearly calculating the notarized deed as his claws tapped the head of his cane with a dry gulp, "Forty acres… that's nearly thrice the part of the Wood that we can actually live in. Thank you, but… why?" he asked, a grin expertly masking his suspicion (and surely, only Judy and Graham recognized it, the former to whom he then directed his attention), "I understand that you are a beacon of charity, mercy, and so forth, but aside from earning the trust of my grandkit… why grant such a blessing to me and mine, foxes that we are?"

Judy smirked such a smirk that she knew a fox could understand it at a glance… because she knew that her grandfather was on the cusp of some great revelation and needed only one more push. "We have our reasons but I was wondering… do you remember a mink named 'Sasha Sleek'? She was a member of the Hopps household back in Forestdwell."

Old, gray paws wrung his cane. "Well… I can honestly say I wasn't expecting to hear that name. But… perhaps I might stumble my way through whatever riddle this is. No, I do not remember her," he stated, "only that she was the one who dropped me off at the slums where I grew up. I suspect I owe my life to her; according to the foxes who met her at the time, she fled from the bells of the Blessed Court but information was scant at best. A shame I could never find anything about her, not even as an admiral in the Royal Navy because I also suspect she knew my parents. C'est la vie," he shrugged, "not too unusual for a kit to wind up on their own, however it might've happened-"

"Piberius…" Pop-Pop then said, wavering as he peered through his spectacles at the fox, "No, not… not quite…" he marveled. The fox sat upright with a further inquisitive stare as the old rabbit staggered to his feet and approached without warning. "You're… you're so like him… except… like her… her fur…" Pop-Pop clung to his own, mundane cane and reached up to gently touch the fox's chin, who might have reeled back if the rabbit hadn't said, "Those eyes… those are his eyes… and you sound just like him…"

Judy scooted closer to calm the fox's arm. "Sasha wasn't the only one who knew your parents, Pibbs," she whispered, "in fact… I would say that no one knew them better than Otto Hopps."

"I found you…" Otto quietly cheered, weakly gripping the fox's paw as tears fell down his dimpled cheeks, burying his forehead into the knuckles of the shocked fox, "I finally found you… I have…" he then continued, steeling himself as best he could to say, "You must know that… that your mother always loved you," looking directly into those bright green orbs, "ever since she carried you in her belly and saw you for the first time, held you, heard you, kissed you… It killed her to let you go but because she did, Sasha was able to escape with you."

One might assume that an old, worldly fox hadn't a single tear to shed for anything but his paws trembled as he held onto Otto and his throat cinched as he tried to ask. "And… and my father…?"

"Saved us all," Otto evangelized, "Captain Piberius Savage was the most heroic fox to ever live, no matter what history would have you believe; when he could have escaped unscathed, he fought the Devil Himself and slew his demons. And your mother… she was a star that returned hope to us Hoppses in our darkest hour… I count myself amongst the luckiest rabbits in all of history to have called them my friends."

Graham touched the old fox's shoulder, gently flapping another printout pulled from the binder. "'That's not possible', 'It's too fantastical', I hear you think," the butterscotch bunny said, "but I might dissuade your doubt with some 'modern medicine'. Some years ago, I came across a false-paw rumored to have been removed from the infamous Captain Savage himself, with a bit of DNA still inside. Upon discovery of your grandson's possible heritage, I fast-tracked the tests last night to discover that he is the ancestor of not only Nick but also John. If we were to test your blood, I am certain the results would match."

Bo then plopped down next to Stu and pulled another printout from the binder to hand that over, as well. "This is one of the most debated bits of musical and modern rabbit history: the controversial 49th Song of Laverne Hopps and her mange-ridden composer. It's a bit hard to read, but scholars never agreed as to who this supposed 'rabbit' was; the prevailing theory is that his name was 'Darius Granger-Trudeau', an assumed pseudonym since there's no record of anyone of that name with mange or a composer. But," he excitedly continued, pointing at the signatures, "according to Lovey's diary, it was your dad who wrote her forty-eight songs, and what we found out was this notarized document is actually a marriage certificate for 'Piberius' and 'Trudence'. A historical restorationist friend of mine can confirm the names, too."

Judy beamed as she gripped his arm with both paws. "Pibbs, you're family!" she declared to a chorus of nodding bunnies, "We're third cousins, twice-removed, to be exact. Great-Grandfather Diocles adopted your mother as protection from outdated ownership laws before giving her up in marriage. I wouldn't doubt if it was the precursor to mending fox-rabbit relationships… if forgotten by history," she momentarily lamented but smiled again, "It's the spirit of the thing that counts, in this case, and not only for us, but for predator and prey the world over!"

Pibbs nodded, his eyes distant but… serene. "Truly, a world apart from what I once knew… but perhaps most stunning of all is that I chased my father's shadow my entire life… only to discover that by taking his name and image, I've lived in it. Eighty years dead and my old tod manages to put one over on me!" he laughed, "Stu, Bonnie, Judy, Bo, Graham… Otto… words of gratitude would do it no justice… but I thank you. Perhaps…" he then wondered aloud, "I might hear the story of my parents? It sounds like a righteously good tell."

She nodded in return. "There are some… pages missing, let's say," she alluded with a flick of the ear at Graham (who snickered), "but I would love nothing more than to share it with you." Judy's heart fluttered, thinking upon the White book wherein a rabbit and a fox learned to love and trust one another… and how its lessons might just be the key to making the world a better place.


Reino del Sol

"Doug here," said Doug.

"Amigo," said Zevon, "you've news, I heard?"

"Yeah. I found something you might want to see."

The llama considered the emphasis. "I'll be down in twenty minutes. There is an… issue up here that I must first attend to."

"Alright."

The terse call ended as his Bluefang earpiece was removed. Doug sighed and slipped off his stool, returning to the espresso machine provided by the Supai family. He couldn't deny that it was the best coffee he'd ever tasted, especially when he could mix the perfect latte with the perfect amount of extra foam. It was simple chemistry.

Esther's… Tamaya's afternoon dosage of the wolf apple was almost ready. He tried a few things to help with prenatal health, digestive health, respiratory health, cognitive health, all to make sure that her kit came out… healthy. If it went well, she would be a prime candidate for another kit after a period of rest and recuperation, and could maybe bring in some other vixens, too. Doug gazed out the window of his study, having grown accustomed to the palace landscape and thought on Tamaya's behavior over the past few days…

She was hiding something…

She was more hopeful than before…

"But why?" he asked no one and sipped his latte. Delicious. Perfect.

He thought on the vixen, on how her eyes captivated and watched him so keenly, seeing things in ways he couldn't understand, as a ram. Things that foxes understood at a glance.

Things that Doug didn't want known.

Things that Doug didn't want to know himself.

Things that he couldn't let anyone know.

Things that got worse each. And every. Time.

Things that he and his brethren had to fix and keep unknown.

Things that he-

He stopped his hooves from shaking and returned to his desk with the printouts thereupon. "Secrets, secrets, secrets…" he muttered under his breath after another sip and set his latte aside, licking extra foam from his lip. The earpiece chimed not a few seconds after he replaced it, a bit put-off that the majority of his twenty-minute coffee break was (apparently) spent ruminating past deeds out the window. Again.

Zevon was rolled in and his attendants left so that he could move himself about on his motorized chair (knee healing wonderfully well in so short a time).

"How'd the 'issue' go?" Doug asked.

", resolved, as he is dead," Zevon answered offhandedly, gliding along to the ram's desk, "but I am far more interested in what you have for me."

"Here, take a look." The tablet which comprised most of his chemical research was tapped and swiped, sending a few slides up onto a flatscreen.

"Pages of the Bag-o'-Bones journal that Clea provided," the llama patiently observed, "the very seed for devolving mammals that you've already developed beyond, what with your work in the Pred-Scare. What of them?"

Doug fiddled with a few digital adjustments. "Devolving mammals is the easy part, there are thousands of ways to do it and keeping them there is tricky but not difficult," he placidly explained, "Bringing them back is the hard part, what with the degradation of their brain, and why this whole thing hit a brick wall."

Zevon concurred with a sigh. "Not even my genius and resources have proven fruitful, in that regard, my wolf apple experiments notwithstanding," he languidly lamented and then smirked, "but I cannot help but wonder at what I 'might want to see'."

"Hold on a sec, I need to find it again," he muttered, "Hector was an apothecarial genius. I'm sure there are medicines today inspired by his insanity that no one knows the origin of," Doug speculated, "and because I was the best of my flock, I was lucky enough to be taught his techniques, both in chemistry and fox-hunting, so I can grasp his intent a bit better than others. Like most apothecaries back then, he poisoned himself just enough to make antidotes from his blood but also used his blood as a powerful toxin; it was how he made his Cursed Crew and the precursor to the NH serum I developed. Now, if you'll look here…" the ram continued.

"You learned many things from him, indeed," the llama noticed and teasingly nudging his cohort, "I would not have imagined that your wolf-suit craft also came from Bag-o'-Bones."

"I wouldn't do that to my fellow sheep, though," Doug pointed out and Zevon agreed, "whereas Hector found - 'Flanders', I think, the writing isn't clear - some harlequin rabbit and fitted his pelt onto his own decrepit form." If the prospect disturbed either of them, they did not express it. "Probably not the first time he's done it. The interesting part is he describes how he diluted his toxin to induce a vegetative state but according to this, 'Flanders' woke up and didn't realize he was without his pelt until he saw it on Hector."

The emperor pivoted his head ever-so-gradually to address his fellow chemist. "Amigo… are you telling me that Bag-o'-Bones… brought him back?"

A shallow nod answered. "He can't have comprehended it at the time but… yes. Hector found a way to devolve a mammal, keep them there - in the Abyss, so to speak - and then return their full cognitive function."

"Or near enough…" Zevon considered and reached around to grasp Doug's shoulders, "This is the breakthrough that eluded Pleasure Island for ages and they didn't even know they had it. Can you figure out the process?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because he's a genius apothecary, his notes must be in an invisible ink that only he knew how to trigger; everything here is just his thoughts on what he did, clues to his research," and then waved at the pages, "This was already exposed to heat so it has to be something else."

"You need the original document, then."

"Yeah, but if Clea or Magnus knew how to read Hector's notes-"

"We will not tell them," Zevon then said, "this will be our secret."

"Okay. Why?"

"Those rabbits… they are the same as the lions, the foxes, the hippos, the donkeys, the wolves, the gnus, and everyone else who look down on us," Zevon reviled, "We of the wool and cloven hoof are greater than they, we always have been, amigo; my empire is a testament to that. Rely on your own genius for now," he then assured, "I will procure that journal and with it, shape the world closer to our hearts' desire; a better world."


Author's Notes:

Barring any better place to put it, I shall explain what happened to Sasha Sleek: with Piberus and Trudy's kit strapped to her chest and Gus and Ellie's kit strapped to her back, she escaped from "Them" and their machinations but knew that she would eventually be found, so she risked boarding a caravan of refugee mammals and found the Turntides, namely, Gus's surviving sisters and mother. You'll recall that they lived on a farm of Forestdwell's outskirts. Perhaps it's better to say that Gus's mom found her, having followed the smell of her own grandkit. With one burden relieved from her, she fled to a fox-slum to hide the Savage kit amongst their own kind. She was eventually found and kept jailed for several years until her death, for she would never reveal the secrets of Capt. Savage but always tantalized her captors that she might. Interestingly enough, Sasha was actually a "witch", due to her slyness and knowledge of the apothecarial craft (she made all her own makeup, you see), and proved not only the bane but the downfall of the Liondon House of Blessings.

The significance of the bay-leaves around Lovey's body is that foxes (and generally speaking, small predators) toss bay-leaves into their funeral pyres as a sign of respect for the departed.

The intent of Pop-Pop's description of Bag-o'-Bones's defeat is that he didn't have a full view of what happened and so didn't see that Piberius had fallen onto a stone part of the bridge, thus protecting him from the lightning strike.

The exchange between Judy and Hector calls back to the final act of Brave (i.e., "what good is a monster," etc., and the reference to the "mangled bird" Cheepy), when Judy defeated Grav/Graham in the Hopps Manor of Knotash.

"Henry Deneday'' references the MC of Disneyland's "Country Bear Jamboree", Henry, who is voiced by Pete Reneday (therefore, a "bear's den").

Concerning Magnus's presence in the Honey Hills, you might recall his tactics back in Loyal, chapter 23, namely how he tried to conscript Judy and Bo but then opted to kill them, instead.

The "Septagon" is a play on the "Octagon" of Mixed Martial Arts.

"Tod & Vixey Tweed" was mentioned earlier in the story, referencing to Tod and Vixey from "The Fox & The Hound", whose last names come from Widow Tweed.

"Darius Granger-Trudeau" has no deep significance except that it can look like "Piberius Savage Trudence"; if it's assumed that the combined signatures are a bit hard to read. The meanings of these names are, in order, "kingly/rich/doer-of-good", "farm bailiff", and a noted place in France.

"Bluefang" is the Zootopian "Bluetooth".

Doug's latte with the extra foam is a callback to the movie.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!