Part Six - Oaktrunk's Journey
"O Lord my God, I take refuge in you; save and deliver me from all who pursue me, or they will tear me like a lion and rip me to pieces with no one to rescue me." Psalm 7:1-2, NIV
Normally, it would take only a few hours to travel between Cloudtree and Grotto. However, due to his dejected state, Oaktrunk was not quite at Grotto yet as it was getting dark. Although he was close to his destination, he decided to find shelter and rest before proceeding, since he thought a good night's sleep might help him recover more before meeting with the other warren.
After spending the night in a temporary burrow near Grotto, Oaktrunk awoke early and continued on his way. He did feel a bit better, though he still had to try to take his mind off of the tragedy that had befallen Flax. However, he only had limited success, as his thoughts jumped back to yet another tragedy - the death of Flax' father, Poplar, as well as the former Chief, Ivy-Rah.
***
They had thought the battle with Cypress to be over. Cypress' attack force had been destroyed; Ivy's Owsla had been victorious. In the aftermath, Chief Ivy, Oaktrunk, General Hrair, and Poplar had been walking along a lonely path, to be by themselves and discuss a new peaceful existence with Grotto now that Cypress was defeated.
But Cypress wasn't yet finished. The four rabbits were ambushed by Cypress and his loyal ruffian, Cornel. Poplar had intercepted Cypress' rush for Ivy, after which Cypress then turned on him and slashed him in the throat with his claws. When General Hrair had tried to attack Cypress and help Poplar, Cornel tackled him and delivered a sickening cuff that snapped back his head. General Hrair was knocked senseless and Cornel had leapt on him, trying to tear out his throat with his teeth. Oaktrunk had seen enough, and tackled Cornel from off of the helpless General Hrair. Simultaneously, Chief Ivy had attacked Chief Cypress. While Oaktrunk desperately clawed, kicked, and gouged at Cornel, Ivy was doing the same with Cypress.
Finally, Oaktrunk had found the break that he was looking for - a razor- sharp root tip sticking out of the leaf-covered forest floor by perhaps four inches. He managed to break off with Cornel, knowing that this implied that he was preparing to flee - although that was the last thing on his mind. His strategy worked. As Oaktrunk positioned himself in front of the root's point, Cornel, who wasn't about to let Oaktrunk escape, leapt at him in rage. Oaktrunk quickly turned to the side, and as Cornel landed over the sharp point, Oaktrunk leapt on top of the unsuspecting Cornel, whose paws buckled under the weight. As Cornel collapsed, the root's tip was driven into his chest, perforating one of his lungs and his aorta.
The fight was over. Cornel gasped for breath in vain and coughed up bloody foam that also oozed from the fatal wound. He managed to crawl only a few feet before collapsing for the last time. Within a minute, he had stopped running.
With his enemy vanquished, the bloodied Oaktrunk turned his attention to help Ivy in his battle with Cypress. However, he had been so involved in his struggle with Cornel that he hadn't noticed the other fight end some time before. Both combatants were lying on the ground - Cypress was almost certainly dead, given the blood pooled around his torn throat, but Ivy was still breathing - although weakly.
Oaktrunk guessed as to what had happened. Ivy's belly had been grotesquely torn wide open, probably the work of one or more desperate slashes from the claws of Cypress' powerful hind feet. His wound was not survivable, but somehow Ivy had managed to maintain a grip on Cypress' throat until his rival was dead.
"Ivy-rah! You can make it," lied Oaktrunk, "Just rest."
"I'm no longer your Rah, Oaktrunk," whispered Ivy, "advise Crowberry as to his duties." Ivy was referring to his eldest son, who would be the new Rah, according to tradition. Of course, Crowberry would turn over the position of Chief immediately to General Hrair, a decision warmly approved by the entire warren, and which would not have been argued against by Ivy.
"No, Ivy-rah. You'll be fine, just-"
"It's all right, Oaktrunk. I'm not frightened in the least. We will have peace now - you, here, and myself, in El-ahrairah's Owsla." With a smile, Ivy's closed his eyes and was still. Oaktrunk closed his eyes tightly, and, after pausing in honour of Ivy for a minute, turned his attention to his other two friends.
General Hrair was nearest. Though unconscious from Cornel's violent cuff, Oaktrunk could see that he would survive. Then, he went to where Poplar was lying. His eyes were half-open, but there was no light in them. The leaves under his body were matted with the blood that had pumped from his severed jugular vein. Pausing to honour Poplar's bravery as well, Oaktrunk then went back and carefully dragged General Hrair to the warren, helped by two other of Ivy's Owsla that had now arrived on the scene. Though wracked with grief, Oaktrunk still managed to hold his emotions inside until General Hrair accepted the position of Chief when he finally awoke the next day.
***
Oaktrunk's mind snapped back to the present. He knew that he was now close to Grotto, but had been so absorbed in his memories that he failed to realize an alarming development: the strong scent of a homba in the air. Warily, he proceeded forward, his ears perked for any sudden noises. When he heard the rustle of something brushing through some nearby bushes, he was already so tense that he didn't bother to check what the source of the noise was, and bolted into a full run.
Immediately, it was obvious that Oaktrunk's decision was the correct one, given the vicious snarling that was following him. It was unmistakably a famished homba, one that was determined on catching a meal. Oaktrunk bounded as quickly as his legs would allow him, dodging as close between the trees and thorn-ridden bushes as he could without knocking himself senseless or ripping himself open. The chase stayed at this pace for a full minute, with the homba not losing any noticeable ground. Oaktrunk used his knowledge of the area from previous visits to Grotto to his advantage. Finally, Oaktrunk heard the tell-tale gurgling of the river.
On the near bank of the river was a steep, rocky bank. In the edge of the river was an amassed pile of broken-off rock that had tumbled down the steep, rocky bank in large chunks over the countless years. Oaktrunk was tiring, and didn't like his chancing of crossing the river more quickly than a desperate homba could. The rocks would have to serve as an escape.
Oaktrunk leapt down to the pile of rocks, searching desperately for an opening between the rocks that would allow him entry, but not to anything larger than himself. The very first hole he tried would have to be the right size as well as be deep enough to allow him to escape the claws and teeth of his pursuer; there was no time for trial and error now. He spotted just above the water line a crack in one of the stone slabs that had fallen and embedded itself in the mud of the river bank. The fissure tapered closed at the top, but appeared to be wide enough for him at the bottom. With no time to spare, he squeezed into the opening and crawled into the narrowing tunnel as far as he could go - which was no more than four feet before he became wedged in. He had no room to even turn around; so he stayed facing the darkness, unable to see the murderous eyes of his would-be killer.
The snarling homba reached Oaktrunk's refuge instantly, and thrust his sharp front claws in as far as the rock would allow. With Oaktrunk pressing himself as far in as was possible, the homba's longing claws met only air, rock, and soft mud. The homba then began digging down into the moist earth in an effort to undermine the rock and reach Oaktrunk from below. The thick mud proved little resistance for the homba's razor claws, but the rock had embedded itself into the ground, thus necessitating a deeper excavation, which began filling with water. Within a few minutes, however, the now-soaked homba had managed to dig under the rock, and was slowly nosing his way from below towards the petrified Oaktrunk. "You could make things easier on yourself," the homba growled, "Just come here. I'll make it quick; I promise."
Oaktrunk did not reply, closing his eyes tightly. So this is what Flax went through, thought Oaktrunk, I wonder how much those teeth really do hurt? He then gave a squeal of pain as a claw scratched his back leg. He pulled himself into an even tighter ball. The smell of the homba was overpowering now; and Oaktrunk's pulse was so rapid that his heart threatened to burst. Good bye, friends. I was honoured to know you, he thought, Oh, will they know what became of me? Just as he again felt the claws touch his trailing hind feet, he heard a commotion outside, muffled by the surrounding rock.
It was another homba, a vixen he could tell, and she seemed to be quite upset. "Get out! Get out! They're coming!" she cried desperately. Oaktrunk's pursuer stopped his digging and backed his way outside.
"Who are you? Who's coming?" the homba said, not making any effort to hide his annoyance at the interruption.
"Man! Man is coming, and they have guns! They've killed my family and they're after me; they know I've gone this way, and it's only a matter of time..." She looked nervously over her shoulder, continuing, "They'll kill any fox they find! We've got to cross the riv-" Just then, the loud report of a gun could be heard. Both hombil froze for an instant, then they bolted across the river and into the forest on the other side.
Oaktrunk had overheard the foxes' conversation and then the gunshot. Still petrified from his near-death experience, he stayed in his shelter, listening to his heart racing, although it was gradually slowing. Then, carefully, he extricated himself from the rock, backing slowly out and into the fresh air. There was no sign of the hombil.
***
While Beet was recovering from his gunshot wound, Restharrow was asked to stand in as the temporary Owsla Captain. Restharrow flinched at the idea, since he had not been in the Owsla since Cypress' rule, but he accepted, as it was a personal request of Beet's. No one else in the warren had any argument to the idea.
He was presently one of only a few rabbits out on the silf, and he was busy watching two men in the distance who were looking towards the warren. They appeared to be talking, then one of them handed a long stick to the other. The one in possession of the stick pointed it in Restharrow's direction. Just then, a loud crack sounded and dirt and leaves flew into the air ten feet to his right side.
Immediately, all of the rabbits bolted into the warren. Restharrow was tharn for just a few seconds, an easy target for the man if he chose to use the gun again. However, the man made no sign that he was about to fire a second time. Restharrow's senses returned, and he bolted into the nearest hole to join his friends.
***
"Honestly, Mr. Castles, I tried to hit it. I'm just not as good a shot as you. Or else it's just too early in the morning."
"Winston, it was only half as far away as the one I shot yesterday. Who are you trying to fool? And now, look, the rabbits are all gone. They'll be underground for the rest of the day!"
Oh, shucks, that's too bad, thought Winston, hiding a smirk. Perhaps his volunteering to shoot the first rabbit had saved at least one of them. But, his smirk became a frown at his landlord's next comments.
"No matter, Winston, the exterminators will finish off these pests tomorrow. Now, come, I've got some ideas I want to go over with you pertaining to maximizing the efficiency of the coming harvest..."
Winston groaned inwardly as the two men made their way to the farmhouse.
***
As Oaktrunk sat trembling by his now dug out and partially exposed shelter, he noticed the vixen returning from the woods on the far side of the river. She was laughing to herself, "Hoo boy! That dunce is probably halfway to the Great Sea by now. What luck with that gun! Couldn't have timed it better if I tried!"
Oaktrunk froze. If there were no hunters after foxes, then why did she- Oh, NO! She's scared off the other homba so she can kill me herself! He felt a morbid admiration for her cunning. Oaktrunk dove back into his now- exposed shelter, digging desperately and vainly at the mud to get further into the too-narrow crack in the rock. He stopped digging and sank into the mud as he heard the vixen speaking softly behind him.
"Don't be alarmed. It's not what you think."
Stop playing games and just get it over with, Oaktrunk thought grimly, Just kill me and end this torture.
************
"O Lord my God, I take refuge in you; save and deliver me from all who pursue me, or they will tear me like a lion and rip me to pieces with no one to rescue me." Psalm 7:1-2, NIV
Normally, it would take only a few hours to travel between Cloudtree and Grotto. However, due to his dejected state, Oaktrunk was not quite at Grotto yet as it was getting dark. Although he was close to his destination, he decided to find shelter and rest before proceeding, since he thought a good night's sleep might help him recover more before meeting with the other warren.
After spending the night in a temporary burrow near Grotto, Oaktrunk awoke early and continued on his way. He did feel a bit better, though he still had to try to take his mind off of the tragedy that had befallen Flax. However, he only had limited success, as his thoughts jumped back to yet another tragedy - the death of Flax' father, Poplar, as well as the former Chief, Ivy-Rah.
***
They had thought the battle with Cypress to be over. Cypress' attack force had been destroyed; Ivy's Owsla had been victorious. In the aftermath, Chief Ivy, Oaktrunk, General Hrair, and Poplar had been walking along a lonely path, to be by themselves and discuss a new peaceful existence with Grotto now that Cypress was defeated.
But Cypress wasn't yet finished. The four rabbits were ambushed by Cypress and his loyal ruffian, Cornel. Poplar had intercepted Cypress' rush for Ivy, after which Cypress then turned on him and slashed him in the throat with his claws. When General Hrair had tried to attack Cypress and help Poplar, Cornel tackled him and delivered a sickening cuff that snapped back his head. General Hrair was knocked senseless and Cornel had leapt on him, trying to tear out his throat with his teeth. Oaktrunk had seen enough, and tackled Cornel from off of the helpless General Hrair. Simultaneously, Chief Ivy had attacked Chief Cypress. While Oaktrunk desperately clawed, kicked, and gouged at Cornel, Ivy was doing the same with Cypress.
Finally, Oaktrunk had found the break that he was looking for - a razor- sharp root tip sticking out of the leaf-covered forest floor by perhaps four inches. He managed to break off with Cornel, knowing that this implied that he was preparing to flee - although that was the last thing on his mind. His strategy worked. As Oaktrunk positioned himself in front of the root's point, Cornel, who wasn't about to let Oaktrunk escape, leapt at him in rage. Oaktrunk quickly turned to the side, and as Cornel landed over the sharp point, Oaktrunk leapt on top of the unsuspecting Cornel, whose paws buckled under the weight. As Cornel collapsed, the root's tip was driven into his chest, perforating one of his lungs and his aorta.
The fight was over. Cornel gasped for breath in vain and coughed up bloody foam that also oozed from the fatal wound. He managed to crawl only a few feet before collapsing for the last time. Within a minute, he had stopped running.
With his enemy vanquished, the bloodied Oaktrunk turned his attention to help Ivy in his battle with Cypress. However, he had been so involved in his struggle with Cornel that he hadn't noticed the other fight end some time before. Both combatants were lying on the ground - Cypress was almost certainly dead, given the blood pooled around his torn throat, but Ivy was still breathing - although weakly.
Oaktrunk guessed as to what had happened. Ivy's belly had been grotesquely torn wide open, probably the work of one or more desperate slashes from the claws of Cypress' powerful hind feet. His wound was not survivable, but somehow Ivy had managed to maintain a grip on Cypress' throat until his rival was dead.
"Ivy-rah! You can make it," lied Oaktrunk, "Just rest."
"I'm no longer your Rah, Oaktrunk," whispered Ivy, "advise Crowberry as to his duties." Ivy was referring to his eldest son, who would be the new Rah, according to tradition. Of course, Crowberry would turn over the position of Chief immediately to General Hrair, a decision warmly approved by the entire warren, and which would not have been argued against by Ivy.
"No, Ivy-rah. You'll be fine, just-"
"It's all right, Oaktrunk. I'm not frightened in the least. We will have peace now - you, here, and myself, in El-ahrairah's Owsla." With a smile, Ivy's closed his eyes and was still. Oaktrunk closed his eyes tightly, and, after pausing in honour of Ivy for a minute, turned his attention to his other two friends.
General Hrair was nearest. Though unconscious from Cornel's violent cuff, Oaktrunk could see that he would survive. Then, he went to where Poplar was lying. His eyes were half-open, but there was no light in them. The leaves under his body were matted with the blood that had pumped from his severed jugular vein. Pausing to honour Poplar's bravery as well, Oaktrunk then went back and carefully dragged General Hrair to the warren, helped by two other of Ivy's Owsla that had now arrived on the scene. Though wracked with grief, Oaktrunk still managed to hold his emotions inside until General Hrair accepted the position of Chief when he finally awoke the next day.
***
Oaktrunk's mind snapped back to the present. He knew that he was now close to Grotto, but had been so absorbed in his memories that he failed to realize an alarming development: the strong scent of a homba in the air. Warily, he proceeded forward, his ears perked for any sudden noises. When he heard the rustle of something brushing through some nearby bushes, he was already so tense that he didn't bother to check what the source of the noise was, and bolted into a full run.
Immediately, it was obvious that Oaktrunk's decision was the correct one, given the vicious snarling that was following him. It was unmistakably a famished homba, one that was determined on catching a meal. Oaktrunk bounded as quickly as his legs would allow him, dodging as close between the trees and thorn-ridden bushes as he could without knocking himself senseless or ripping himself open. The chase stayed at this pace for a full minute, with the homba not losing any noticeable ground. Oaktrunk used his knowledge of the area from previous visits to Grotto to his advantage. Finally, Oaktrunk heard the tell-tale gurgling of the river.
On the near bank of the river was a steep, rocky bank. In the edge of the river was an amassed pile of broken-off rock that had tumbled down the steep, rocky bank in large chunks over the countless years. Oaktrunk was tiring, and didn't like his chancing of crossing the river more quickly than a desperate homba could. The rocks would have to serve as an escape.
Oaktrunk leapt down to the pile of rocks, searching desperately for an opening between the rocks that would allow him entry, but not to anything larger than himself. The very first hole he tried would have to be the right size as well as be deep enough to allow him to escape the claws and teeth of his pursuer; there was no time for trial and error now. He spotted just above the water line a crack in one of the stone slabs that had fallen and embedded itself in the mud of the river bank. The fissure tapered closed at the top, but appeared to be wide enough for him at the bottom. With no time to spare, he squeezed into the opening and crawled into the narrowing tunnel as far as he could go - which was no more than four feet before he became wedged in. He had no room to even turn around; so he stayed facing the darkness, unable to see the murderous eyes of his would-be killer.
The snarling homba reached Oaktrunk's refuge instantly, and thrust his sharp front claws in as far as the rock would allow. With Oaktrunk pressing himself as far in as was possible, the homba's longing claws met only air, rock, and soft mud. The homba then began digging down into the moist earth in an effort to undermine the rock and reach Oaktrunk from below. The thick mud proved little resistance for the homba's razor claws, but the rock had embedded itself into the ground, thus necessitating a deeper excavation, which began filling with water. Within a few minutes, however, the now-soaked homba had managed to dig under the rock, and was slowly nosing his way from below towards the petrified Oaktrunk. "You could make things easier on yourself," the homba growled, "Just come here. I'll make it quick; I promise."
Oaktrunk did not reply, closing his eyes tightly. So this is what Flax went through, thought Oaktrunk, I wonder how much those teeth really do hurt? He then gave a squeal of pain as a claw scratched his back leg. He pulled himself into an even tighter ball. The smell of the homba was overpowering now; and Oaktrunk's pulse was so rapid that his heart threatened to burst. Good bye, friends. I was honoured to know you, he thought, Oh, will they know what became of me? Just as he again felt the claws touch his trailing hind feet, he heard a commotion outside, muffled by the surrounding rock.
It was another homba, a vixen he could tell, and she seemed to be quite upset. "Get out! Get out! They're coming!" she cried desperately. Oaktrunk's pursuer stopped his digging and backed his way outside.
"Who are you? Who's coming?" the homba said, not making any effort to hide his annoyance at the interruption.
"Man! Man is coming, and they have guns! They've killed my family and they're after me; they know I've gone this way, and it's only a matter of time..." She looked nervously over her shoulder, continuing, "They'll kill any fox they find! We've got to cross the riv-" Just then, the loud report of a gun could be heard. Both hombil froze for an instant, then they bolted across the river and into the forest on the other side.
Oaktrunk had overheard the foxes' conversation and then the gunshot. Still petrified from his near-death experience, he stayed in his shelter, listening to his heart racing, although it was gradually slowing. Then, carefully, he extricated himself from the rock, backing slowly out and into the fresh air. There was no sign of the hombil.
***
While Beet was recovering from his gunshot wound, Restharrow was asked to stand in as the temporary Owsla Captain. Restharrow flinched at the idea, since he had not been in the Owsla since Cypress' rule, but he accepted, as it was a personal request of Beet's. No one else in the warren had any argument to the idea.
He was presently one of only a few rabbits out on the silf, and he was busy watching two men in the distance who were looking towards the warren. They appeared to be talking, then one of them handed a long stick to the other. The one in possession of the stick pointed it in Restharrow's direction. Just then, a loud crack sounded and dirt and leaves flew into the air ten feet to his right side.
Immediately, all of the rabbits bolted into the warren. Restharrow was tharn for just a few seconds, an easy target for the man if he chose to use the gun again. However, the man made no sign that he was about to fire a second time. Restharrow's senses returned, and he bolted into the nearest hole to join his friends.
***
"Honestly, Mr. Castles, I tried to hit it. I'm just not as good a shot as you. Or else it's just too early in the morning."
"Winston, it was only half as far away as the one I shot yesterday. Who are you trying to fool? And now, look, the rabbits are all gone. They'll be underground for the rest of the day!"
Oh, shucks, that's too bad, thought Winston, hiding a smirk. Perhaps his volunteering to shoot the first rabbit had saved at least one of them. But, his smirk became a frown at his landlord's next comments.
"No matter, Winston, the exterminators will finish off these pests tomorrow. Now, come, I've got some ideas I want to go over with you pertaining to maximizing the efficiency of the coming harvest..."
Winston groaned inwardly as the two men made their way to the farmhouse.
***
As Oaktrunk sat trembling by his now dug out and partially exposed shelter, he noticed the vixen returning from the woods on the far side of the river. She was laughing to herself, "Hoo boy! That dunce is probably halfway to the Great Sea by now. What luck with that gun! Couldn't have timed it better if I tried!"
Oaktrunk froze. If there were no hunters after foxes, then why did she- Oh, NO! She's scared off the other homba so she can kill me herself! He felt a morbid admiration for her cunning. Oaktrunk dove back into his now- exposed shelter, digging desperately and vainly at the mud to get further into the too-narrow crack in the rock. He stopped digging and sank into the mud as he heard the vixen speaking softly behind him.
"Don't be alarmed. It's not what you think."
Stop playing games and just get it over with, Oaktrunk thought grimly, Just kill me and end this torture.
************
