"Boy, I told you not to be late!" Wilfred cringed as the heavy wooden door slammed behind him. The voice was coming from the second floor. The house was situated with the whole bottom story occupied by a storage area, and the second and third containing the living quarters. He wanted to linger at the bottom, with the nice-smelling dried herbs and spices. But he knew his punishment would be much worse if he kept his grandfather waiting. So, his feet feeling like cinder blocks, he slowly climbed the steep stairs that lead up to the second level.

His Grandfather was not completely drunk. Not yet. But he soon would be. Wilfred could see the bottle sitting on the table behind where the older buck was standing. Thane Longtreader was a big middle-aged rabbit with wild, violent eyes and the constant smell of tabaco and alcohol about him. He had fought in some nasty wars in his youth, resulting in his addiction to liquor. Wilfred could smell it. It had a sickly, disgusting scent while at the same time also had the nice smell of grapes. "Where were you?!" Thane roared. Wilfred winced and stammered,

"The-the Graveyard, Grandfather." I should have lied. He thought instantly. Any mention of his grandmother sent Thane into a grief-retched fury. And sure enough, this occasion was no different. The older buck picked up a heavy book from the table with a grunt. He heaved it over his head and flung it at Wilfred. He barely dodged.

Wilfred dashed for the stairs. Something hard and weighty slammed into his shoulder, and it was horribly painful, but he didn't stop. Luckily, Thane was too caught up in his rage and whisky to follow him up the stairs. But Wilfred didn't stop running until he was back, safe, in his own room with the solid oak door bolted closed against his grandfather's wrath. He sank down against the door. Garten looked up from his puzzle, Whittel from his book. Neither said anything. Garten had a large bruise showing through the fur of his arm and Whittel's glasses had been re-taped yet again and were sitting on the shelf. Clearly, Thane had been in a bad mood all afternoon. Finally, Whittel broke the silence.

"What'd he throw at you?"

"A book."

"Did it hit you?" Wilfred nodded. "Does it hurt?"

"I would say that it does." He replied. He got up and pulled a book down from the shelf. The house was a big old Bastle Dwelling, a type of structure left over from the Great Wars fought centuries ago. A long time ago the Longtreader name had been one of prominence, the house had been called a manor, and the stench of wine didn't linger in every room. Wilfred sat down on his bed. He and Whittel shared a bunk bed shoved into one corner of the room, and Garten had a single twin a few feet across. The room was sparsely furnished. A low table stood in the center of the room and served as a base for Garten's puzzle and a space to do homework when school was in session. The floor was bare. A bookshelf on one end doubled as a place to store clothing. The shudders to the window were wide open to allow the breeze in. Downstairs, something heavy violently struck the ground. All three boys winced in sync, Garten's posture growing increasingly tense as Whittel seemed to shrink in on himself. Wilfred just stared out the window, watching the leaves outside bend against the slowly setting sun.

"I hate him." Garten hissed. "Leapers, I hate him." Neither of his brothers disagreed. There was a tiny tap on the door. It slowly opened to reveal Lucy, the youngest Longtreader and only sister. Her crutches hit the floor and she limped in. Lucy was a cripple. She had been born with a disorder the doctors hadn't been able to identify. She had needed a cane her whole life.

"Mother's still at the post." She whispered, her voice wheezing.

"Lucy, where's your inhaler?" Garten asked. Asthma.

"My room." She replied, obviously struggling to take in air.

"Sit down." Garten ordered. "I'm going to go get that for you." Lucy obeyed, sitting down on the floor with her legs spread out before her. A minute later Garten was back with what looked like a demonized version of a spray perfume bottle. No wonder Lucy hated the thing. But she took it without protest. It took a few minutes for the medicine to work, but Wilfred could hear her breath clearing. She began to work on the puzzle while Garten re-bolted the door against the shouts and bangings still coming from below.

"What were you saying about mother?" Wilfred asked.

"She's still at the post." Lucy repeated. "She told me when she left that she wouldn't be back until late."

"Fantastic." Wilfred snorted. "On top of Grandfather already being in a rage, mother isn't even here."

"Complaining won't do any good." Whittel muttered from above.

"It makes me feel better though." Wilfred could practically sense his younger brother rolling his eyes.

"What happened to your eye?" Lucy asked, a puzzle piece in hand as she examined the jigsaw.

"Jupiter nearly knocked it out with a baseball." Wilfred responded.

"Which he apologized for at least fifty times, by the way." Whittel told him.

"Yeah," Garten added, "I also had to tell him to shut up about twenty of those."

"Where's father?" Whittel asked Lucy. Lucy shrugged.

"Beats me. Garten, how long have you been working on this puzzle?"

"Only about a week, why?"

"Have you seen him today?"

"No. I slept in this morning, and he wasn't here when I got up." She ignored Garten's question. She had already placed five pieces.

"What time is it?" Whittel asked.

"How many questions do you have?" Wilfred muttered.

"Nearly six." Garten responded. He was the only one of them who had a watch, and it was about fifteen minutes off at that. For a few minutes there was silence. Then Whittel said,

"I'm hungry."

"I don't think we're getting food tonight." Lucy said, tapping her fingers against the floor. "Not with how it sounds downstairs."

"Door's bolted, right?" Wilfred asked suddenly, wanting to double check. Garten glanced over at the large cedar plank, his face a mixture of repulsion and anxiety.

"Yeah. I wouldn't forget that."

"Did anyone remember to save anything from lunch?" All four of them looked at each other and shook their heads.

"I went to Anne's for lunch." Lucy said. "I couldn't save anything."

"Victor didn't have any." All three boys said together.

"How come you guys didn't bring me?" Lucy asked after a moment of silence.

"You were asleep." Whittel started,

"It was really hot-" Wilfred continued,

"And you wouldn't have liked it anyways." Garten finished, shooting Whittel and Wilfred a look for their extremely obvious and very terrible excuses. "We didn't even get through one game before Jupiter hit Wilfred, and everything deteriorated from there." Below, shouting silenced all four of them. There was loud stamping on the stairs and a door slam further down the hall.

"Father's home." Garten muttered, throwing his puzzle piece across the room. There was a light rap on the door.

"So's mother." Lucy added, taking her crutches and hobbling towards the door. She unbolted it and pulled it open. In their mother came, a whirlwind of patched cloth, random pieces of paper, and ink.

"Lucy, did you take your medicine?" She asked.

"Garten made me." Garten made a noncommittal sound from where he was seated on the floor and didn't raise his eyes from the puzzle.

"Whittel, where are your spectacles? Don't tell me you've lost them again."

"I haven't lost them." Whittel muttered, not even looking up from his book. "They're sitting on the shelf." Whittel wore glasses to correct nearsightedness.

"Wilfred what in Natalia happened to your eye?"

"Jupiter chucked a ball at it." Their mother, Alyss, sighed.

"That boy really doesn't have anything to do these days, does he? I'll have to get some ice for that." She turned to Garten. "Did you do your homework?" Garten had struggled in history this last semester and wound up with a decent amount of make-up he had to do over the summer to receive a passing grade.

"No." He replied testily.

"Don't take that tone with me." Alyss warned. "If you haven't already done it, you'd best do it now." Garten reluctantly got up and opened his textbook. "Have any of you had dinner?" They all-except for Garten-shook their heads. "Alright." She said, "Lucy, why don't you go play for a while?" She was referring to the piano. They all could-but only Lucy was any good at it. Wilfred swore that it sounded like knives on a chalkboard every time he went anywhere near the instrument. Lucy knew what she was doing. She nodded, turned and limped out into the hall. "Whittel, come help me with dinner." Whittel, clearly resenting being torn away from whatever book he was reading, put it away. "And Wilfred, please try to clean up in here a bit. And I want to see a chapter done, Garten, is that clear?" Garten grunted. Wilfred watched his mother and younger brother disappear and realized how woefully normal it was. Normal and strange at the same time. Below, he could hear a glass bottle shattering against the wall just as the first notes of the piano could be heard echoing down the hall.