A calm, calm and gentle breeze rippled in a forest of the England Countryside. It might have signaled anything from good fortunes and even better circumstances to the coming of the stormy days of Summer.

Anyone might be remiss to this simple breeze of wind, especially as far more seemingly important matters took a course in dominating their lives, but for Mr. Rabbit, a simple sniff in the air was all it took to recognize that this was more than just wind.

With that simple sniff, he could tell that storms were coming and as such problems, for him, his mate and his offspring, would naturally begin to follow.

The garden had already been producing less and less food, the tomatoes being picked apart by pesky pigeons, the radishes being carried away by unsavory night-time visitors and the carrots being nipped on by strange beatles, the likes of which only came out at a certain time of the year, annually and without fail.

Should a storm flood the garden and ruin the harvest, terrible consequences would face them all. Not helping matters, was the fact that security around the McGregor household was getting worse, with the old man and his wife setting more traps and growing more alert for every vegatable that went unaccounted for.

It wasn't as if it were in Mr. Rabbit's desires to steal. In fact, he was very much against it, on both a basic and on a moral ground. But the point stood that he had a family to feed and even his own typically righteous morals were not enough to allow his family to starve.

He stopped sniffing the air then and hopped off, quickly and skittishly moving across the forest floor in the direction of the burrow and his family. Along the way and with the hooting of an owl in his ear, he set his mind on who to speak to first: Mrs. Josephine Rabbit, his mate. She would need to know of their impending troubles more than anyone else. The children, being Mopsy, Flopsy, Cotton-tail, Benjamin and Peter, would also have to be informed, if only so that they weren't taken a back in any way once the bad came along.

Family could be a troublesome thing, but he supposed that as long as they stuck to and worked together, there was plenty that could be dealt with, even through tough times and when immaturity ruled over common sense.

As Mr. Rabbit neared the burrow, the hooting stopped and his eyes latched onto a ball of fur which sped right out of the ground and far out into the woods. Were it not for his sharp eyes, he likely would not have been able to even notice it and were it not for the rabbit's characteristically blue shirt, which was similar to his own, he likely would not have been able to tell that it was his eldest, but still quite young and impulsive, son, Peter.

Mrs. Josephine Rabbit popped out from the burrow next, though, not nearly as fast. She stopped short of running when she saw how far ahead her son already was.

"Peter!" Her voice rang out after him through the noisily empty forest, but whether he even heard it was an open question given the distance between both of them.

Mr. Rabbit shook his head in slight agitation as he approached her, feigning the frustrated look on her face.

She looked up to him as soon as his soft pawsteps reached her ears, "That son of yours can be quite the thorn in my side sometimes, this past week especially."

"Again? What's he done today?" He asked, not bothering to suppress a sigh. "If it was another one of his pranks..."

Mrs. Josephine Rabbit shook her head, "None of that today, thankfully. He's just had some bad attitude. Not listening to me, called the girls all kind of names and he hurt poor Benjamin."

"Is he alright?"

She shrugged, "He won't show anyone where he's been struck."

"Call him up."

"Benjamin!" She yelled down into the burrow. "Your uncle's calling for you!"

It took a few moments, but soon the sound of slow and dreadful clambering was heard, pebbles and dirt shuffling mysteriously out of the way. Benjamin came after the sounds, tightly clutching a spot on his exposed stomach. The young rabbit had clearly been crying given the trails of tears which ran from his eyes down to his chin.

"Yes, uncle?" Benjamin asked, stifling anymore tears.

Mr. Rabbit looked thoughtfully down at his nephew, then towards the spot which he was clutching, "Alright lad, let's see it."

Slowly and hesitating like a stag at bay, he moved his paws, allowing his uncle to get a good look at the stained red of his fur.

Mr. Rabbit frowned as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped at the wound. He was quickly able to gage that it was nothing deep and thus nothing to be fearful of.

Once most of his fur had been cleared of the blood, Benjamin looked up to his uncle with a look of trepidation, "Peter's going to be in trouble because of me, isn't he?"

He gave the younger rabbit a puzzled look, "Certainly. He hurt you, did he not?"

Benjamin nodded sorrowfully, "We were just playing tag outside and then after I won, he said I cheated and when we were back in the burrow he kept arguing about it and then he kicked me."

"All this blood over a game of tag? Rather silly, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm sorry uncle," he hung his head as if he were ashamed.

Mr. Rabbit patted the top of his head, a way of consolation, "Not your fault lad. Now then, run along and have your supper."

Benjamin obliged, hopping back down into the burrow and quickly leaving the two adult rabbits to their own business.

"Sometimes I worry that Benjamin's too sweet," Mrs. Josephine Rabbit spoke up suddenly. "Hurt and bleeding, but still worried that his mischievous cousin is in trouble."

"He does have a kind heart," Mr. Rabbit nodded in agreement. "But Peter must be taught a lesson and a proper one at that. After all, forgiveness only comes after enlightment."

She shook her head again, even more frustrated, "You say that every time the boy misbehaves and yet no matter how many times you switch his behind, he never seems to learn. Perhaps you should try a different approach, something more...civil."

"Such as?"

"He's your son for goodness sake! Whoever said it was wrong or sinful to have a normal conversation with your son?"

"There's a time for speaking and there's a time for punishment. This is an occasion that calls for the latter, I would say."

Mrs. Josephine Rabbit sighed at his hopelessly old and cynical ways, trying to find the words to convince him otherwise, "I can't tell you how best to raise your son, but I will say that the boy's lonely when you're gone half the day. Maybe try to be a better father and in return you might just get a better son."

He didn't get the chance to speak a retort, before she, much like Benjamin had, hopped down into the burrow, leaving him to his own business above ground.

"I never once in my whole rabbit hood complained of being lonely," Mr. Rabbit muttered bleakly. "The youth these days..."

He sat there for a moment, brow creased in heavy thought, before he breathed in and took of the direction his son had gone.

Tracking Peter was no trouble at all. Then again, it wasn't as though his son had made it particularly difficult to be found. Paw prints, disturbed ground, overturned rocks and a very helpful pointer from Mr. Jeremy Fisher, who had been sitting in his pond, made finding Peter all too easy.

His son was seated on a rock, muttering words that one would only expect a sailor to use. His ears were flat against his head, indicating either sadness, or anger, or most likely a potent mixture of both emotions.

Mr. Rabbit couldn't help but notice, as he made his slow and subtle approach, the shaved and thin tree branch sitting next to his son. It surprised him in a certain sense, to see that the deed had been done without any command having to come from him.

Peter stood up to face him, as soon as he stepped up onto the rock. That was how it was for a long moment, father glaring sternly at son and son looking into his father's eyes timidly.

Only after that moment came to an end, did his glare soften along with an unhappy groan, "Sit down Peter."

He did as his father said, sitting in the same spot as he did before.

Mr. Rabbit picked up the switch and gave it a small wave. It produced a disproportionately loud swishing sound. He threw the switch aside when he took note of the uncomfortable look on Peter's face.

"Your mother says you've been having quite the attitude today."

Peter stayed quiet.

"She says you've been calling your sisters names and you hurt Benjamin."

There was still no response from Peter, whose head hung low, with eyes fixated on the ground.

"Peter look at me," Mr. Rabbit lifted his son's head up. "I'm very disappointed to hear about all this."

A glossy layer of tears formed over Peter's eyes.

"Now, I was going to make sure that you wouldn't be sitting for a week, but considering that you got switched yesterday and the day before that and the day before that..." He trailed off, soaking in the peaceful atmosphere. "Your mother thought it might be best if we spoke instead. So let me ask you this, just why exactly are you behaving this way?"

Peter opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly, seemingly reluctant to talk.

"You can say whatever you want, lad. Nothing I can do about it."

After overcoming yet another wave of reluctance, Peter finally said, "Father, why can't I ever come with you when you leave during the day? Why can't I help you steal from the McGregors'? It's not like they would ever catch me."

Mr. Rabbit exhaled heavily, immediately sensing the crux of the issue. He spent too much time away from home and in that time, Peter grew restless and began to feel neglected, "Peter, as wise as I like to act, even I can admit that I'm rather reckless. I walk on a fine line between sensibility and danger everyday and sometimes, I'm honestly not so sure that I'll make it home. There's a reason I leave you behind. If something were to ever happen to me, I'd need someone at home, someone to look after your mother and your sisters and Benjamin as well. If something were ever to happen to me, I'd need you, Peter. I'd need you to look after everyone."

"But Dad..." Peter shuffled his paws in the air. "Nothing is ever going to happen to you, right?"

Easily detecting Peter's fear, he leaned down closer, "Not so long as I have anything to say about it, but on the day that I don't..." He sighed, deciding to change the subject, "There are storms coming our way."

"Really?"

"The Summer storms, I need to go down to discuss something with Mr. Jeremy Fisher, scout out something near the river and fetch your mother a few herbs. You could come along if you want."

"I can?" Peter shot up in sudden excitement.

"On the condition that you apologize to everyone at the burrow."

"Right, right, of course," Peter sat back down with a happy huff. "Dad?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"You'll always be here right?"

"Even if I'm not, I'll always love you," Mr. Rabbit drew his son into a hug, looking up at the night sky. "You're the only one I can trust, to do right by our family."