It was spring and the flowers and vegetation were almost full. The bird's tweets filled the open air and a cool breeze drifted along lazily stirring their feathers. The sky was crystal clear and little clouds were sprinkled across it.

The sun's rays reached out and touched the green lush lands of the downs, where rabbits lived, some chasing each other and others munching on the fresh spring grass. Among the rabbits was a small light gray youngling, who was barely more than two months old, and they called him Thistle.

Thistle was a content and caring rabbit, who would help others when he had the chance and, unlike most his age, he looked out for his family, be it his friends or parents. He also enjoyed many hobbies such as finding shapes that the clouds were arranged in or perhaps a game of freeze tag, a game one of his many friends made up. But his favorite thing to do was to lie down and listen to his father Speedwell's stories about the great journey and how they defeated woundwort.

On this particular day, he decided that it would be a good idea to go see shapes in the clouds, "cloud viewing" as he called it.

He made his way to his favorite spot and sat down. He started to study the clouds.

"Thistle?"

Thistle recognized that voice and turned around to see birch, one of his younger pals, who had a darker gray color of fur.

"Yep! That's my name, don't wear it out!" He said joyfully.

"Very funny Thistle, may I ask what you're doing?"

"Oh me? I just looking for shapes in the clouds"

Birch scrunched his face up in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because it's a fun thing to do! Here let me show you something" Thistle hopped to birches ' side and beckoned him to look up at the sky.

"See that right there?" He pointed towards a cloud.

"What does that look like to you?"

Birch thought for a moment and said, "well it kind of looks like uh. Um uh. It looks like a rabbit?"

"That's exactly what I thought when I saw it!"

"Well I still don't see how you can get any enjoyment out of it"

"But don't you think clouds are shaped like that for a reason sometimes?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if the rabbit shaped cloud is actually hazel-rah looking down over us?"

"You're crazy!"

"Hey, it's just a thought!" Thistle said defensively.

"I don't understand why you would want to look at clouds all day. Why don't you come play with us?

"Because I don't really feel like playing today" Thistle yawned.

"Oh, of course ya don't Thistle, an rabbit with your heads in the clouds, I swear if I weren't here you would have floated away," he noticed that thistle had tuned him out and was looking at the sky again.

Birch had had enough of Thistle for one day and decided to leave, "I think I hear someone calling my name. See you around Thistle"

"See you around!" He responded still looking at the sky

And with that Birch hopped away.

Thistle looks on as the clouds danced and twirled among the bright blue sky, in a dance that was chaotic and rhythmic all at the same time, sometimes forming recognizable shapes like rabbits or trees and sometimes making otherworldly figures. Then thistle saw something that intrigued him. A completely black cloud and it had a perfect show of a bird. Thistles blood ran cold. It was a bird, a hawk at that, and he was right out in the open, far from the safety of the warren. He noticed that no one else was above ground, it was him and only him. The only rabbit above ground, and right in the open as well. Free for the taking. He bolted toward the nearest hole. His heart pounding in his head. His paws flew faster than they had ever flown before. I'm not going to be food today! He hoped. The hole was only a few hops away. He could hear the hawk getting closer. Come on! Come on!

It was hopeless. The hawks shadow was upon him and he was suddenly jerked high into the air. He cried in shock and fear. The world swung wildly around him, and he started to feel dizzy.

He tried to thrash around and escape. Thinking quickly he kicked his feet at the hawk's chest. The hawk cried and let go of Thistle. Then thistle realized how far off the ground he was. The tree on the down looked about the size of a clover. For a split second he was suspended in mid-air, already doomed with no way to escape the inevitable, soon he felt the effects of gravity pulling down on him. squealed as he plummeted to the ground.