Smalls knew he was going to faint before he ever hit any rock-that was only the final stroke. He was truly and completely finished. He had no more energy and no will left to expand it even if he had. The cold water of the sliding tunnel shocked him briefly, and then the sudden loss of light disoriented him. He felt Heather slip from him, and then his head cracked against something hard, and solid. His sense of the world evaporated.

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Smalls startled up shocked and freezing.

"Easy, easy lad. You need to rest." A stabbing pain erupted, hammering against his forehead. He moaned. "It's alright. We're safe for now." He opened his eyes. Wilfred was staring at him, but everything seemed a little blurry. It was night, but even the moonlight seemed too bright to him then. "Lay down. You've had a time, go back to sleep."

"I-"

"Do as I say." Wilfred's voice was firm and didn't allow room for argument. When Smalls didn't immediately obey, Wilfred asked, "What's hurting?"

"My head." Smalls replied, voice raspy. Wilfred gazed at him a moment, and then opened one of the packs. His concern had grown with Smalls' almost instant reply-Smalls had a bad habit of denying or even concealing injuries, and it was a sure-fire sign he was miserable if he so readily admitted one.

"Drink this. Then lay down." Smalls obeyed, but kept his eyes open, watching the stars far above. Wilfred watched him, face concerned. He lay a hand on Smalls' forehead for a moment. "You don't have a fever. That's a good sign."

"Is everyone alright?" Smalls whispered. Talking any louder felt like someone had taken a hammer to the insides of his skull.

"Everyone's fine. You did well."

"Tell….tell Picket that. Wouldn't have gotten out…without….him…" His eyes closed again. The last thing he heard was Wilfred's quiet chuckle and-

"Ah Smalls, you always push yourself too hard."

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When he opened his eyes again, it was bright sunlight. Smalls stared at the cloud-patched sky for a long moment while his mind struggled to process what was happening around him. He was in a boat. It was relatively warm, That storm yesterday must have been a warm front. Someone was snoring. He felt stiff and sore, but the pounding migraine that had woken him earlier had faded into a dull ache. Good enough. He decided. Sitting up, he examined his surroundings more closely.

The snoring was coming from Picket, who was soundly out. Beside him, Heather slept fitfully. She was pretty, Smalls realized, something he remembered noticing briefly the day before.

"They'll be alright." Wilfred said. Smalls turned towards the front of the boat, where Wilfred was sitting. "They're not bad off, I think."

"No major injuries?"

"Unless you count yourself."

"I'm alright, Wilfred."

"Ah, you're back to your senses. I was worried for a while." Smalls rolled his eyes.

"Where are we exactly?"

"About five miles off from Decker's Landing." Smalls nodded.

"Do we have a plan?" Wilfred hesitated.

"Not quite." His gaze flitted to his niece and nephew, and the exhaustion in his face was prevalent.

"You didn't sleep at all, did you." Smalls said bluntly. Wilfred waved that off and rummaged in one of the packs, producing some kind of tonic and handing it to Smalls.

"Take that. We have two options, really, stopping at Decker's or going on to Cloud Mountain." Smalls swallowed the medicine and washed the bitter taste out of his mouth.

"Cloud Mountain's more secure." He commented. It was the truth, even if Smalls didn't particularly like the idea.

"I think we should make for Cloud Mountain-wait it out a little." Wilfred said.

"That's what they want."

Smalls was sick of hiding. He wanted to do something-the wolf attack on Nick Hollow had only proven that Morbin was getting bolder, and time was running out. And the citadels were still divided against each other, the army, if you could call it that, was choppy and scattered and split along citadel lines. Oh, and that wasn't even counting any of Smalls' older siblings, who had apparently decided it was their personal mission to make his life as miserable as possible.

"That's what they'll expect, for us to go to cover, to hide somewhere. Which is why I say we don't do it. What if we head straight for the First Warren?" He knew the suggestion was ludicrous the moment it left his mouth, but he let it hang there for a moment. Doing that, at least, would get the Citadels' attention. Wilfred raised an eyebrow.

"The First Warren? I don't like it." That was obvious by the look he was giving Smalls at the moment. "It would be so dangerous. The protectorate won't listen to us anymore. Winslow as good as banished us. Morbin's been in his ear for months." All of that was, unfortunately, the truth. "And anyway, what about these two?" Right. It wasn't just them like it usually was. While Smalls knew that Wilfred would generally have been more open to the idea, but because they weren't on their own some plans were no longer viable.

"Can we set them up somewhere-somewhere they can get up the mountain? Wouldn't Tommy Decker take them up?"

"We could leave them at Decker's and go on," Wilfred mused. "But no where's really safe if Morbin's willing to send wolves this far out." Smalls felt, again, that innate need to do something. He hated sitting still while others suffered for no fault of their own. "I think we'd do best to go up ourselves. There'll be a citadel congress soon, and we should be there. Anyway, this is my family, these two. I think we'd all be better off to go on up." Smalls wilted.

"Maybe you're right. I want them safe, Wilfred. I really do. But we have more than just them to think of." Wilfred nodded, his expression softening slightly, and he set a hand on Smalls' shoulder.

"I know." He said, "You know I'm on-" Picket snorted, sat up, and yawned, waking his sister beside him. Smalls yawned himself, and said,

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

"I was already awake." Picket protested, but the end of his sentence turned into a huge yawn. Heather looked skeptical.

"Good morning, shipmates." Wilfred said. Smalls retreated to the front of the boat with an apple he had fished out of his bag. "You're true sailors now, having passed a night on the water and under the stars." It takes a little more than that. Smalls thought. He knew enough about sailing to know that it wasn't as easy as it looked, though he wasn't any expert on the matter.

"Add that to the list of firsts." Smalls became interested in the conversation again when Heather spoke. She was smiling, but there was a weary, hollow look in her eyes. Smalls had no idea what horrible thing she'd been through before they had arrived, but she'd survived, and gotten her brother safe. So he tried to make his smile look real when he stood and held out his hand. She took it. He said,

"You were amazing yesterday, Heather. I'm Smalls. I'm so glad to finally meet you when both of us are awake."

She laughed, and it was one of the nicest sounds he'd heard in a long time.

"My pleasure to meet you, Smalls. How's your head?" Smalls blinked and then his smile became real.

"Nothing life threatening. I've had much worse." His mind jumped to the dozen other times he was talking about, but he shoved that away. Not now. Later.

"Thank you so much for rescuing me, I would have been finished, for sure, without you, and you, Uncle."

"And Picket was very brave as well." Picket almost flinched at the words, as if he didn't believe them at all. Smalls just couldn't understand him. He, first of all, wasn't sure what he'd done that had gotten them off so badly on the wrong foot, and, second, how to fix it was total mystery to him.

"You were brave, Picket." Heather affirmed.

"Of course." Smalls agreed. He sat down next to Picket and cuffed him across the back. Picket pitched forward, and hastily righted himself. "You," He pointed at Picket, "Are my favorite mathematician. When…..." he paused, glanced down, and course-corrected, "Well….. I'd love to see you as an engineer. Building things, solving problems." This did not have the desired effect, and Picket frowned.

Smalls was completely confused. He didn't know many rabbits his age well. Really, the only friend he had that was even somewhat close to his years was Evan-and he doubted that that counted since Evan was his brother. He had spent some time with the Blackstar twins when he was younger, but, honestly, he didn't know them well at all. He'd only spent one summer at Kingston when he was twelve, and that had ended in near disaster after a wolf raid. That had been the first time he'd been involved in a real battle, and he had the scars to prove it. Picket spoke again.

"Thank you, Smalls. You saved Heather when I let her down, and I'll never forget that." Smalls, suddenly, felt uncomfortable. He wasn't used to being thanked for his actions.

"C'mon Picket, you never let anyone down." Wilfred replied. "We all did what we could yesterday, and it turned out alright." Mostly.