Night should've been comforting, the sign that a new day was rising and it was time to rest. It didn't feel like that anymore. The sky fell dark and it made everything worse. The shadows twisted into monstrous wolves prowling at the corners of the shoddily formed campfire that the wolves had made. The rabbits were furthest away from the fire, but Heather could still feel the faint flickers of heat across her face.
They had trekked deep into the woods, and Heather was sure now the Wood was an evil place. There was something horrible in the woods, wrapping around her and squeezing all the hope and life out of her. It felt like death itself laid upon this forest.
For hours, Heather conjured up small tales inside of her mind to keep her awake. She doubted she would be able to fall asleep
She didn't dare look up to her mother. The rabbits were all completely silent, but Heather hoped she could talk to her mother soon, asking why this was happening. It certainly had something to do with the mysterious lady who had appeared, didn't it? And not to mention the possibly true words of her father being a traitor…thousands of questions spun in Heather's mind. Did her parents hold all the answers to them?
A cry from one of the babies–Ruben, Heather remembered–echoed through the clearing. Mother had helped deliver him just a few months ago. The mother panicked, covering her baby's mouth with her hand, and eyes darting from the wolves to her baby. There was a stretch of awkward, tense silence. Seconds ticked by, and when no one moved, Heather felt like she could breathe easy again.
"Heather, dear," Mother's voice was like a gentle breeze, barely loud enough for Heather to hear. The other rabbits seemed to be stirring slightly, egged on by how the wolves seemed to mainly ignore them, and began checking on the others.
Heather glanced over. "Yes?" she whispered.
Mother's hand found hers. "I'm so sorry, dear," she said. "I thought–we thought," she corrected, "we thought we had more time. But we didn't." She looked terribly sad.
"Why?" Heather's shoulders drooped. "What were you and Father not telling us?"
"Quite a lot of things," Mother glanced away, keeping her voice low. "Your father is still recovering from his injuries, but I will finish the tale of the Rise and Fall of King Jupiter the Great."
Heather's heart skipped a beat at Mother's weary, mournful tone. Mother sent a furtive glance to the wolves, as if expecting them to glance over their way. Mother took a deep breath and began where Father had left off.
"Almost everyone was loyal to King Jupiter…there was one who was not: Garten Longtreader," she said.
"But wasn't he–" Heather began, recalling what Father had said about the Ambassador.
Mother shook her head, cutting her daughter off. "He was indeed Jupiter's ambassador, weaving a thread of peace into the world. But he was the very same who undid that piece, unraveling the thread so many had worked for. Driven by–" Mother stopped, tripping over her whispered words. Her eyes glazed over as if remembering something long gone. "Driven by bitterness and a want for something he could never hope to gain," Mother finally continued. "Garten Longtreader threw in his lot with Morbin and his legions."
"Nothing was ever the same since," Mother sighed deeply. "In a battle that was supposed to turn the tides towards the rabbits under Jupiter's banner, Garten struck. Jupiter was captured, and," she gestured to the edge of the woods, barely visible from where Heather was sitting, "and that is the field where he was slain. It is known as Jupiter's Crossing now, and it's a cursed place for all rabbitkind. It symbolizes the freedom we lost at the hands of one of our own."
Heather found it hard to tear her eyes away from Mother's face. How much history had her parents kept from her, and what did this have to do with her family? Many more questions spun in her head, but she would wait until the end of Mother's tale.
Mother took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with tears. "In the aftermath of Jupiter's death, there were the afterterrors. It was a dark, grim time, and ultimately when your father and I decided to leave for my former home, Nick Hollow." She frowned. "We both feared that Garten would come after us."
"What? Why would he?" Heather whispered urgently. The sky was slowly lightening, and the wolves were stirring from where the guards were pacing or sleeping.
Mother sighed. "We're Longtreaders, Heather dear. Garten is your father's eldest brother."
Heather stared, her eyes widening. "What? What do you mean–Father isn't–"
Mother glanced down at Baby Jacks in her hands. "I'm sorry, Heather," was all she said, and then the red eyed leader was barking for them to get up and move, because they wouldn't be stopping until they reached their destination that day.
Heather wished she had slept that night instead of hearing about the awful history her family held.
Heather walked in a daze the entire day.
She couldn't even bring herself to look at her parents.
They had fled to Nick Hollow to escape her uncle, who had betrayed the king. It felt more like the plot to a fantastical story than something that had actually happened. But it was real. It was so very real, because how else would Heather be trudging through an oppressively dark forest with fellow prisoners and wolves who snarled and flashed their sharp teeth when someone strayed too far from the group.
The landscape didn't change, and Heather sank further and further into her thoughts.
How long had they hidden this from her? Since she was born…looking back on the subtle things that had happened. Father and Mother's whispered conversations, how Mother would stare, misty-eyed, at the painting over the fireplace, had everything been a sign Heather had been too stupid to piece together?
And Picket–where was he?
Was he alive? She didn't know if he was alive. Was he in the ruins of Nick Hollow, searching for them? Or had he fled into the woods? Gotten trapped in the mounds and died a horrible death? Her eyes darted to the wolves surrounding them, making sure the group remained in one cluster. Had one of them killed her brother? She blinked back some stinging tears.
Everything was so awful, and she couldn't do anything about it.
Around midday, they arrived in what appeared to be a camp of some sort.
Heather's heart sank upon seeing the horrendous place.
It looked like hell itself, and she shrank away from the dull-eyed looks the thin enslaved rabbits gave her, like the group arriving was a new spectacle they couldn't be bothered to be excited about. The camp was just against a mountain, and there looked to be a mine just up ahead. The scent of burnt metal and dust was heavy in the air. Heather coughed.
Someone came forward, a doe dressed in a faded green dress, and muttered something about checking over wounds. She had a wild, terrified look in her eyes that Heather didn't like.
"Your arm'll be fine," she said in a sullen voice, wrapping what was supposed to be a bandage sloppily around Heather's arm. "Just don't strain it too much for now." It felt more like a warning than a bit of advice.
Heather nodded, clutching her bandaged arm to her chest. She knew it would scar. The bite had been deep and painful. It would be a permanent reminder of her first day in this new reality.
"Just half of them?" a sharply dressed rabbit demanded one of the wolves. "We were promised all of them."
The wolf growled something out. "There's been a change of plans," he said. "We're under orders from the ambassador. You get half here, and we take half to Akolan."
The rabbit's eye twitched visibly. "I was not informed of this new development."
Some of these rabbits were working with the wolves, Heather realized dimly. Were they there to survive, or were they there because they enjoyed it? She hugged herself tightly, watching as the camp around her still worked like a well-made machine. No one seemed to pause for a second, but Heather could see passing rabbits watching the scene with morbid curiosity.
"Because you're not important in Morbin's schemes," the wolf snapped out. "All you need to know is that you get half and we take the rest, understood?"
The rabbit blinked. "Fine," he said harshly.
"Good." The wolf swiveled around to face the stragglers. "Get back to work!" he barked at them, and they scrambled to resume…whatever they were doing.
Heather glanced down. Her head spun. She clung onto her bandage even tighter to try and keep herself from panicking too much.
Did her captors know her mother and father were Longtreaders? That she was a Longtreader? They had to.
The newly arrived group of people was split off into half by another officer. Heather scrambled to her feet as the officer listed off names on who would stay and who would go. She watched, her stomach turning, as some of the younger ones–Ruben, Elise, Lauren–were all grouped off. Ruben was wailing his head off, torn away from his mother.
No one moved. No one protested.
It was unjust and unfair, but Heather's mouth felt glued shut, and she couldn't dig out the strength to protest this.
"There," the officer said. "You–" he pointed to the group meant to stay in the camp. "Report to Umber or Rue over there, and they'll give you your assignments for the rest of the day," he gestured vaguely towards the center of the camp, where most people seemed to be convening. "Don't try and run. We have guards all along the perimeter." He turned to the rest. "And you–don't move. We'll deal with you later," he said dismissively, stalking away.
Heather watched as the half were led away. Those were people she knew. Every single one of them–Nick Hollow was not a big community. She knew everyone by name. And they were walking away, and she might never see them again.
Night crept up on them.
A scarred brown buck, who appeared to be the aforementioned Umber, brought the prisoners a strange slop to eat, promising them it wasn't poisoned in a light tone. Heather poked at it gently with her fork. She was not hungry anymore. Everyone else seemed to have the same thought.
Heather hugged herself tightly, drawing her limbs in to keep the cold out.
The camp didn't seem to stop working, even in the night. Torches were lit, throwing orange light all across the site, and there seemed to be a switch of shifts. Everyone moved with practiced ease. However, with the officers walking to their own quarters, Heather could hear conversations gradually get louder and louder. No one seemed to bother paying attention to the wolves at this point.
"If Timmy doesn't heal up fast enough, Wethers is gonna have to transfer him to First Warren," a doe said to her companion, carrying a basket full of chunks of what looked like ore. She had a frown on her face. "Poor Beth. She won't take it well." She tsked under her breath.
"Kind of was hoping Wolfie there would take off Fallon's head," a buck shrugged, slinging a pickaxe over his shoulder. "Woulda been better for all of us if Wethers gets promoted."
"Fallon's a different type of evil," agreed his companion. "He came straight from Akolan on a power trip."
"Here's to hoping Akolan pulls him out and back to his cushy position in Morbin's circle," the buck said. "Wethers ain't much better, but at least he understands we can't work with broken bones."
His companion laughed, breezing past the cluster of prisoners.
Heather watched everyone work to keep herself from sleeping. She could last another day, no? She didn't feel safe enough to sleep.
Another duo passed.
"New ones are going to be hard to deal with," the buck said. His companion didn't speak, but instead raised her hands and made a few gestures, signing out her question. "Yeah," the buck sighed. "Especially the kids." The concern in his voice made her feel a little better. Maybe the rabbits here protected their own, aside from the officers.
Her eyes drooped slightly.
"It's alright, Heather," her mother said.
Heather stiffened slightly, remembering everything she had been told the night before–their family secret. Distrust rose inside of her, but then she glanced at her mother's sincere face, and Jacks peacefully resting in her arms.
She could also see Father approaching, limping his way through the shifting folk, everyone settling down to sleep as best as they could.
Heather gently leaned onto her mother's shoulder, craving that warmth, and gradually fell asleep.
Nothing would be the same–but at least Heather would have the remnants of her family.
don't ask me about the geography