"Be

Leave and decide

Stay and be blind

Easy to claim when you've places to find

We nearly died

Be that inside

grinding the gear of all tides" - Rotary Park

Speedwell was horrified when the dark rabbit pushed his son over the edge. He had seen the two conversing to each other but they had left before he could stop either of them, and he followed the two for their entire journey, walking way back so that if they were to look behind him they wouldn't see he was there. He was suspicious about the doe, and unfortunately, his suspicions were proved correct.

The doe trotted off into the fog, her head held high. Speedwell had to fight himself not to run over to that miserable rabbit and claw her ears off, and instead collected himself and slowly hopped towards the edge of the hole. Thoughts, fear, worry swarmed his mind to the point he felt dizzy. What would the warren say? I'd just be a failure in their eyes! They'll all laugh at me! He shakily peered over the edge, hoping against hope that his only son wasn't gone.

And he wasn't gone; hanging on the root, just two inches away from the deadly drop Thistle clung. At once his relief was gone. He needed to save Thistle, but how? There were no other roots he could hold onto, and the risk of falling to his death frightened him. But Thistle was staring at him with pleading, hopeful eyes. Trusting eyes. They bore into his soul like thorns. Speedwell looked away; his mind flip-flopped between saving Thistle or leaving his son to die and saving his own skin. Both weren't preferable. Again he looked at Thistle, a helpless youngling, panicking, eyes wide. It reminded Speedwell of his first litter. The pain in their eyes, desperate, hopeless as they withered away with diseases. He felt awful that he couldn't do anything to save them; he tossed and turned the days preceding their death. He shook himself back to reality; Thistle wasn't going to die today!

Before his nerves got the best of him he lowered himself over the ridge onto the slope, back feet first. He flexed his paws so that his nails could get some traction before he let go of the ridge. Speedwell took a deep shaky breath and slowly let go, and loosened his grip just a bit. Then he started to slide down the mountain, tearing up the soft dirt as he descended. Quickly he clenched his paws so he wouldn't slip any further. Oh frith help me. His heart started to race. What am I doing?

Speedwell looked down at the helpless young buck. "I'm coming, just hang on," he panted, I hope. He gazed at the large pit with it's massive flames, daring him to get closer, to gobble everything he knew and loved. it was too much, he had to turn back.

No Speedwell! Just power through he scolded himself, Do it for you. Do it for Thistle. The old buck took three deep breaths before continuing his descent, eyes closed shut so he wouldn't have seen how close to the edge he was, then let go, sliding down. Now he was right next to the Thistle, here the dirt got looser and scarier. One wrong move and both of them would cease their continued living on the earth. He shivered.

"T-thistle," Speedwell shook as he spoke, his breath was shallow and fast.

"L-let go of the root."

Thistle shook his head, threatening to tear the root out of the ground.

"Please y-you've got to t-trust me," Speedwell felt himself starting to slip, his legs were beginning to weaken.

"Just-just dig into the ground, I've got you don't w-worry."

Thistle slowly and carefully put his claws into the soft dirt, he looked at Speedwell with panicking eyes.

"Good, n-now when I say go, l-let go of that root, I've got you thistle don't fret and t-then run up the slope as fast as you can." Speedwell moved in closer in.

"Ready?"

The young buck trembled and shook his head, a fearful whine came from his throat.

"Thistle! Trust me, I'm your father; I only want the best for you." He didn't know if thistle could hear the desperation in his voice, his legs felt as if they'd give up at any moment. "Now, are you ready?"

Thistle only stood there, but then slowly started to nod his head.

"O-okay," Speedwell started to panic again. What if it didn't work? He barely even knew what he was doing! But it was too late to start stressing about it now. Speedwell gathered his courage and readied himself. He breathed shaky breaths; moving a buck half his size up a slippery slope was going to be a difficult task.

"Go."

Thistle let go of the root and started sliding downward, but was stopped when Speedwell bit down on his scruff. Almost at once the young buck started kicking up the hill, sending dirt over the ridge and into the abyss below. Speedwell did the same, aiding thistle in his efforts. Speedwell shut his eyes tight, præying to frith that they'd make it out okay. And then the slope stopped, giving way to flat ground.

Suddenly It as if a huge weight had been lifted off Speedwell's chest and he breathed a sigh of relief and opened his eyes. Thistle was clinging flat on the ground, eyes as big as dandelions, huffing silently in and out.

"Thistle? Are you okay?" He bowed down and licked his son's face.

The young buck groaned and slowly stood up. There were tears in his eyes as he pushed himself closer to his father, shaking. All he wanted to do was feel the warmth of him, someone who made sure that Thistle would be safe and protected; someone who would make all the wrong things right. He pressed himself hard against his father's chest and felt his father shift to comfort him.

"It's okay Thistle," Speedwell said soothingly. Thistle looked through his tear sodden eyes to meet the kindness of his father's. As long as his father was here everything was going to be okay. He would make things alright.

Suddenly a tangy, warm scent drifted into his nose causing him to wrinkle it in disgust. He pushed away from Speedwell, much to his surprise. Then he noticed something flowing from his father's back, a bright red colored liquid ran from jagged wounds and collected into a small glowing puddle underneath him.

"Dad look!" He exclaimed and stared at the liquid coming from his father's back.

Speedwell followed his gaze and nearly screamed. Blood. It made him queasy; he hated it. And now he was covered in it, and it was his own! But how? Of course! The thorns; he scrambled under them haphazardly and felt a searing pain, but barely noticed in his pursuit of the two rabbits. But he couldn't freak out, because if he did freak out then thistle would become distressed and he didn't want the two going hysterical in the middle of nowhere. Instead, he quickly composed himself and shrugged it off. After all, thorns never killed anyone. Right?

"Dad look! there's a trail on the ground!" Thistle pointed out. And indeed there was. A trail of red liquid ran from Speedwell, down the slope, back up the slope and then away into the fog.

"Do you think it leads back to the warren?" Thistle asked.

"What makes you say that?"

"There were thorns back there right?"

"Uh-uh" Speedwell didn't understand where thistle was going with this.

"And if you got those wounds from the thorn barrier" he paused for a moment, "maybe the blood trail could lead us back to it?"

Speedwell was amazed by Thistle's reasoning; he was so lucky to have Thistle as his son, even if he wasn't the best at trust management.

"Well then, follow that trail Thistle! We'll be home in no time"

"What about your wounds?"

"Don't worry about them! Just follow the trail."

"But what if the bad dark rabbit follows the trail as well? She hasn't disappeared into thin air you know,"

Speedwell knew the little rabbit was right; glowing splotches of bright red, almost glowing unnaturally marked where they had been, and even now Speedwell could see a trail leading behind them and into the fog. But there was nothing they could do about it. Their only hope was to wait until the wounds healed, although the dark rabbit could just follow along the trail as well. For all they knew the Dark rabbit was waiting by the thorn barrier, ready to kill or maim or drag them back to the put. They were part of the thousand that was for sure. But…

"It's the only way back we have thistle,"

And so they ran off following the trail, Speedwell making sure they weren't being followed, and Thistle keeping his eyes glued to the trail, trusting that his father would keep him safe. On several occasions both stopped and stood in complete silence, listing out for any sounds of the Dark rabbit or other predators. At one point Speedwell could've sworn he heard a third heartbeat somewhere in the fog. But nothing came of it and they both continued on their merry little way.

After what seemed like ages, silhouettes of trees started to creep into view, Speedwell knew that they were getting closer to home. And soon enough the thorn barrier came into view, causing both of them to sign in relief, and both sprinted to the throne barrier, eager to go home. Underneath they crawled, carefully as to not make any more cuts and wounds that would allow them to be tracked (as Speedwell's has stopped bleeding quite a while ago.) and continued on through the faintly familiar woods.

The dead woods. That's the only way Speedwell could describe it. The usual calls of birds, the buzzing of insects, even the scent of elil was absent. Instead, the blowing of winds that dared not touch the rabbits nor fog filled the air. Speedwell shivered. What kind of place is this?

Onward they crept through the foggy landscape. Each would stop even at the slightest noise; a twig snapping somewhere behind them, a particularly hard gust of wind through the trees, their heartbeats grew louder and faster. Thistle had a fearful expression on his face until speedwell pulled him in closer, squeezing him, which helped relax him a little. Speedwell, on the other hand, stayed on edge.

"Dad I'm tired! Can we stop somewhere?" Thistle whined and crashed against Speedwell's flank, nearly knocking him over. He grumbled, half surprised that thistle would complain in a place like this, but promised his son that they would as soon as they found a spot, not in the woods, and much safer.

Soon they came across a man-made road cutting through the woods, it was something Speedwell was surprised he was happy to see.

"What is this thing?" Thistle questioned as he scraped at the blacktop.

"It's something hrududu run on," he said matter-of-factly, "Usually there would be a lot of them running up and down, scampering to frith knows where to do frith knows what." He looked up and down the road and raised his ears to see if any were approaching. Nothing. "In the daytime, they're mostly harmless as long as you don't get in their way; when it's nighttime is when they're really dangerous."

"How so?" The young buck cocked his head.

"Their eyes glow with such a brightness; they make you go tharn and then crush you,"

"How awful!,"

"It is. Humans make the things unsurprisingly. But there's none of them around as far as I can see, Let's follow this road if we get to nuthanger farm well be home free!"

"The nuthanger farm?" A smile spread across the little bucks face.

"Yes,"

"Oh boy!" His eyes twinkled with wonder. He was finally going to be able to see the famed Nuthanger farm. Truly hallowed ground

And so the two followed the road as it led them through the forest, winding and snaking its way through. Sooner than expected the road straightened out and lead them out of the woods. Then the countryside started to look familiar! he picked up the pace in his eagerness (but stayed close to the road), half forgetting that he had a much younger and slower rabbit following him.

"Dad!" Thistle panted, "Could you slow down?

"We're almost there thistle. And if you can't hold out then there should be a human nest up ahead where we can stop and take a break."

Speedwell was right; soon enough the shape of a house emerged through the fog, around it stood a tall stone fence. the road passed right by it but broke and lead to the wooden gate as well.

"Here we are," Speedwell said.

Thistles' eyes lit-up. He was here! He really was! The place that the great thistle had walked was here.

The older rabbit was amused by Thistle's awe.

"Don't get ahead of yourself thistle. We're not sure if it's even safe to stay here." Then speedwell scrambled under the rickety wooden gate.

The other side was an interesting sight to behold. A path ran from the gate and split between a house and a farmhouse. The house stood as a dark silhouette in the fog, its chimney shooting from the roof and burying itself in the fog. Pitch black nothing showed through the windows. Across the path stood the farmhouse, as foreboding as ever, doubly so in the fog. There was no sign of life either. There were no lights, and no scent of the dog or cat or other rabbits or humans, it was all still. Too still. Speedwell shivered and crawled back under the gate.

"Come on thistle, follow me."

The pair scrambled under the gate and down the dirt path.

"We'll be safe over there," he nodded his head towards the farmhouse.

There was a crack between the two big double-doors just big enough for a full-grown rabbit like speedwell. After Thistle had slipped through and Speedwell not-so-gracefully squeezed through, Speedwell set out to find a comfortable place to rest, which was easier said than done. The farmhouse had huge scary bits and bobs hung up on the wall, their rusty imperfect surfaces glinting in the ambient light. On the ground law devices that speedwell could only imagine what they would do. Then he saw it: In the corner on top of a drawer stood a hutch, it's door broken open by frith knows what.

"Thistle!" He called

The two hopped into one of the open hutches and made themselves at home. The outside had gone completely black leaving only the pale moonlight glow to shine through the fog and illuminate the farmhouse in an eerie go. They were safe in the darkness.

Speedwell didn't realize how tired he had been until he laid down and closed his eyes. He started to drift off, and just before he fell into the chasm of dreams he could feel thistle snuggling up warm next to him. Speedwell smiled. Everything was going to be okay.