"It's going to take a while to rebuild, we have to clear the rubble-and that'll cost too, I'm afraid." Wilfred was tired of listening to how much money it would take, how long it would be, and how it might not even be possible to rebuild. Nearly a week had passed since the fire, and nothing much had happened. They'd moved in with his mother's aunt-a brusque old doe by the name of Hattie who lived in the center of the city. She didn't have enough room for them and was stricter than Wilfred's etiquette teacher at school. Garten had already expressed his dislike of her-in private. He might have been bold, but even he wasn't that stupid. Wilfred just wished that he didn't have to wear school clothes every day.
Her house was cramped and small, a perpetual symptom of most townhouses. Wilfred hated it. He hated being inside and he hated even more feeling trapped; and trapped he certainly felt in the claustrophobic and stuffy old house. It was filled with musty tapestries and dusty bookshelves, and rows upon rows of weird knick-knacks.
What was probably the best thing about the whole situation was that Aunt Hattie made Thane take his drinking outside of the house-and wouldn't allow him back in until he was sober. Currently, Wilfred would have done anything to escape the building himself. He despised these meetings, where he and his brothers had to sit quietly in the opulent parlor while their elders discussed the house and other matters of concern. Yesterday Whittel had fallen asleep on Wilfred's shoulder, though that might have partially been because he had been up far too late the night before.
He glanced longingly outside. Fall had come down suddenly upon them like a hammer blow to an anvil; as if, now that the fire was over and done with, Summer had decided to go too. School would be starting again in only another couple weeks. Wilfred wished it would get there now. Garten and Whittel did not. School was less of a sanctuary and more of a prison for them as one consistently got into trouble with the teachers and in fights, and the other wouldn't open his mouth outside of the house.
"Is there any way to speed the process up?" Thane asked gruffly. He was sober right now, and not happy about it. He wanted to be the head of the house again; not forced to defer to some stuffy aunt who was still invested in the old ways. The contractor gazed at him levelly.
"The workers are doing the best they can, Mr. Longtreader, but the building was heavily damaged. Expect several more months." Thane snorted and crossed his arms. Whittel kicked his feet under the table impatiently. Wilfred nudged him and he stopped. Garten's eyes had glazed over. Lucy wasn't there. She was still in the hospital.
Lucy had always had bad Asthma. Wilfred couldn't even really picture the first moment she'd shown signs. Garten said that she'd been really sick for a while, in-the-hospital kind of sick, to the point where their mother hadn't been sure she'd survive, but other than that no one really could recall-not even Lucy herself-the first time she'd had an attack. It was just how it had always been. But it hadn't been this bad for a while. Wilfred leaned his chin on his hand and waited out the remainder of the meeting. The moment the contractor was gone, all three of them sprung from their seats.
"Let's go out-" Garten started. Alyss interrupted.
"Bed. Now." She'd grown cross and tired in the last week, and they'd learned not to argue with her. Garten threw her a reproachful glance on his way up the stairs. None of them saw Alyss turn away, hiding tears she would never let her sons see.
At the top of the stairs, they were met with Aunt Hattie, in all her white-furred glory, in a nightgown, hands on her hips.
"You children ought to have been in bed an hour ago." She said sternly. The three brothers exchanged a look that said, "Who gave you the authority to parent us?" But said nothing. "Is your sister ready to come home yet?" Garten shook his head, and grabbed Whittel's hand, dragging him along behind him as all three of them made a hasty goodnight and disappeared into one of the two guest rooms.
"This is home?" Wilfred muttered.
"The worst part about this whole mess is her." Garten said, glaring back down the corridor. There weren't any doors, Hattie said it 'encourages secrets and I shan't have any in this house'. Wilfred suspected she'd had doors before they arrived but had had them removed soon after she learned of their misfortune. Really, Wilfred was finding it hard to resent her. She was elderly, lived by herself, and wasn't ready to take on seven extra rabbits. Hattie was strict and a little eccentric, yes, but not all as bad as Garten made her out to be. All three brothers were sharing a big full-sized bed tucked neatly into a corner underneath a window, and Lucy would have a small twin in the corner when she was well enough to come home. Whittel flopped down onto their bed.
"I think the worst part is not having Lucy here." He said. Usually optimistic, even Whittel was having trouble finding something good about the whole situation. Nobody argued. Not even Garten. Wilfred sighed and changed the topic.
"Is there anything good to do around here?" He asked.
"Not unless you count the endless tomes of ancient literature." Whittel replied.
"What's a 'tome'?" Garten muttered.
"A big book." Wilfred replied. "Clearly you missed that word on our end-of-the-year vocab test." Garten rolled his eyes.
"...Anyways…..." Whittel continued. "I can't figure out what language the books are written in, so that's pretty much useless."
"And there's no board games?" Wilfred asked.
"None." Garten responded, picking up an odd-looking shell sitting on the mantelpiece.
"Colored pencils or something?"
"Already checked." Whittel sighed.
"A ball?"
"I'd be shocked to see one in a ten-mile-radius." Garten replied, putting the shell back upside down.
"The only things to do, essentially, are eat and sleep." Whittel added. Before anything further could be said, loud arguing shocked the silence.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Alyss!" Their father shouted. "I can't control my father!"
"Leave! Leave with us! Think about our children, they can't thrive there!" Their mother responded. "Look at them-Garten comes home with black eyes and busted lips from school! Wilfred barely keeps his grades above fails, Whittel refuses to talk outside of his own siblings! And Lucy-think of Lucy! She's terrified at home, Daniel. Terrified. Think of how Thane just tosses her around. She's already fragile, she can't handle it!" There was a long pause.
"They seem fine to me." Daniel finally said.
"You don't even know your own children!" Alyss cried. "You've become such a stranger that you can't even see when they are struggling!"
"It builds their character."
"Abuse does not build character! They need you and you're never there!"
"My own father wasn't for me!" Daniel roared. "They'll be fine!"
"I will not have my sons turn out like you." Alyss said, so quietly that Wilfred had to strain to hear. "Once-once I would have. When you were a good rabbit," She continued bitterly, "But you aren't the buck I married. Not anymore." For a long time, there was silence. Charged, heated silence. Tense silence. Silence in which all three boys seemed to shrink into themselves. Finally, their father spoke.
"So, you want a divorce?" He didn't even sound like he cared. He'd retreated into himself, the way he always had. Whittel hid under the covers. Garten picked up the shell and threw it against the wall. It shattered into a million pieces and Garten slid to the ground. Wilfred let out a muffled sob.
"If that is what you think is best." Alyss' tone was steady and even. "I won't stay here; I'm telling you that now. Thane is violent and greedy, and I won't raise my children in a house like that. And if you are only going to continue that story…. then perhaps it is best that you stay behind." Another pause. Garten let out a soft cry.
"Where will you go?"
"Nick Hollow." Alyss responded. "To my parent's house." Everything was deathly silent. "If you loved me, you would come with us." Please. Please come with. Wilfred found himself begging in his mind. Please don't leave. There was no reply, only the quiet click and lock of the front door, and Wilfred knew his father was gone. Garten sobbed.