June 19th 2016, London

The early summer weather had turned the heavy London air hot and dry. With the gradual climate changes taking their toll on the planet, the city, from the centre to the suburbs, was baking hot and asphyxiating from the air pollution caused by the exhausts of hundreds of cars on the road. Families were leaving town, on their way to their summer resorts, to enjoy a pleasant holiday. But that was only in the case of the few lucky ones - those who still had proper jobs and income in the midst of the fragile global economy.

In a cheap, run-down neighbourhood in the East End, a young woman was making her way down a side street, just off Brick Lane, to her home. Samantha Fields, commonly known as Sam, was anything but preparing for a joyful summer holiday. Striding through the litter-strewn parking lot of the old block of flats, run by the council, where she lodged, carrying her shopping, she made her way upstairs, to her rickety 10th floor apartment.

Sam's family were from Cardiff, Wales, but had moved to London when she and her twin brother, Ronald, were still babies. Left battling poverty after her father, a former construction worker, had lost the use of both his legs from a falling girder at a construction site, her mother, a nurse, had found it impossible to raise both her children and care for her disabled husband on her meagre salary. And so, when the twins had just turned two, a difficult decision was made: Ronald was given up at an orphanage for adoption, leaving Sam as an only child.

Years later, by the time Sam was in her late teens, the family had recovered financially and rebuilt their lives; Sam's wish of going off to university had come true. As for her brother, her parents, ashamed of abandoning their own son, had never attempted to find out what had become of him. To them, Ronald was just a shadow of the past, which they ought to forget ever existed. Hopefully, he had become part of another loving family and was leading his own happy life somewhere.

For a while, it seemed the family had finally risen from the ashes and made peace with their past. But then, some fourteen years ago, when Sam was still a student, another tragedy had torn the family apart again. Sam had returned home, after receiving an urgent call, to find both her parents brutally murdered in, what apparently had been, a violent break-in. With no more financial support, and all alone in the world, Sam had been forced to cut her studies short, set her parents' affairs in order, and set off to find her long lost sibling. This was her one remaining purpose in life, which gave her the strength to carry on.

For the next ten years, Sam had travelled around the country, moving from town to town, earning her living through short-lived, meagre jobs; as a cleaner, concierge, scooter mechanic, car park attendant, supermarket cashier, model, and even as a bicycle courier. Although living, literally, off the grid, in cheap motels or run-down boarding houses, she somewhat enjoyed this rugged life, always holding onto the dream of reuniting with her brother someday.

Her wanderings had finally brought her back to London, empty-handed, where she worked as a private courier-to-hire to this day. Unfortunately, with the recession still rampaging the country, her job attracted few customers, turning her life into a daily struggle to make ends meat. Down on her luck and lonely, Sam had been reduced to a lifeless shell. Then, one day, three years ago, while delivering a package to Hampshire, she had made a very special friend.

Opening the door to her apartment, she was greeted by a familiar, powerful furball with long ears, which jumped into her arms, catching her by surprise. Sam dropped her shopping, narrowly avoiding being knocked to the floor under the giant rabbit's massive weight.

"Stonecrop!" she scolded her flatmate and one and only friend in the world, "For heavens' sakes! How many times have I told you not to do this?" The rabbit stared up at Sam with an ear-splitting grin.

"Hallo to you too, Sam. So how did it go?"

If a stranger had been standing in the room at that moment, he would have undoubtedly freaked out at seeing Sam's 'pet rabbit' actually talk. Sam, on the other hand, didn't show the least surprise at this strange phenomenon, treating it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Nonetheless, Stonecrop was no ordinary rabbit, whose origins remained a total mystery, even to Sam, from the day she had found him, three years ago…

October 11th 2013

It was a cloudless, moonlit night in mid-autumn. The early chill of the approaching winter could already be felt by the young woman riding her bicycle along the deserted country road. Sam Fields was returning from an errand to Whitchurch, on her way to her hotel in Newbury, to catch the train back to London in the morning. The five hundred pounds she had been paid from this latest delivery were safely tucked in the zip pocket of her worn-out anorak. All that trouble, so she could just pay the rent on her new flat and maybe cover her living expenses with whatever was left… Not a penny to spare for her own enjoyment; no new clothes, no cinema nights, no excursions, nothing. But she would manage.

After ten years of searching in vain for her brother all around the country, Sam had given up and returned to London, hoping to start over. After ditching her dominating, semi-abusive boyfriend, she had taken up residence in a small council flat in the East End. With a local post office helping her find customers every now and then, every day she's cycle around on errands, delivering registered packages to earn her meagre living. But the sense of loneliness in her life was killing her; ever since her parents' deaths, she didn't have a friend in the world, not a single familiar face to seek comfort from in these troubled times. Little did she realise that all that would change that very night…

Tired and lost in her miserable thoughts, she was suddenly caught off-guard by the screeching of tyres behind her. Moving at breakneck speed in the dead of night and without lights, the car barely missed her as its unknown driver made an evasive turn without slowing down or even honking his horn. That was a big mistake. The vehicle skidded and flew over the edge of the road, cartwheeling down a slope and into a ditch. Then Sam was nearly knocked off her bike again by the ensuing explosion, as the vehicle burst into flame.

In a state of shock and confusion, relieved that, by a miracle, she wasn't dead herself, Sam pulled over, staring in horror at the overturned car, now resting against a tree, burning. There was no doubt that whoever was inside was dead, either killed in the crash or barbecued alive in that inferno.

Oh, my God, I killed him…!

Horrified by what had just happened, Sam turned round and retched. Although she obviously wasn't to blame, given how this lunatic had been speeding blindly in the dark, almost as if running from some pursuer, the thought that this might not have happened if she hadn't been in the way, was tormenting her down to the utmost depths of her soul. That was why she didn't notice the car's single surviving passenger, a man whose face was hidden behind a black mask, like Zorro, who had been thrown clean from the vehicle before it exploded, pull himself up from the ground nearby. Grabbing a sealed metal box of some kind lying beside him, he turned and fled into the bushes and out of sight.

Suddenly, something else caught Sam's attention; something that sounded like crying - baby crying. Horrified, thinking there might have been a baby onboard, she forcibly pulled herself together and approached the burning wreckage. Scattered papers and disks lay all spilled all around the wreck, amidst shards of broken glass from the vehicle's shattered windows. Sam couldn't tell for certain, but it looked like material from a lab, judging by the writing on the papers. Among all that junk was a battered, plastic box, of the type used to transport small animals. Inside it, something was crying out, wailing loudly.

"Mama…mama…"

Thinking that the driver might have been some psychopath who had locked the child in a cat box, Sam rushed over and forced the cage door open. But it wasn't a baby in there at all. Sam pulled out a battered and bloodied hutch rabbit. What was this?

For a few minutes, she stared in confusion at the trembling rabbit in her arms. She was so sure she had heard a baby crying; but there wasn't another soul in sight. Perhaps the shock of the accident was making her hear things? Then she heard it again – the rabbit in her arms was talking!

"Mama…mama…"

"Have I gone mad? Yes, I must have flipped my marbles… This can't be real…!" With a gasp of shock, she dropped the rabbit, backing away in surprise. What was going on here? Was she dreaming? Or had this strange rabbit, which, she now realised, was in fact an enlarged rabbit kitten, no more than a few weeks old at best, actually spoken? Where had it come from? Who were these men transporting it in their car, and what were they running from?

The answer to that question suddenly came in the form of police sirens in the distance, approaching fast. Whether someone else had seen the explosion and sent out an alert, or the men had been running from the police - the latter most likely, given their erratic driving -, Sam didn't know; all that mattered now was to get out of here fast, before she was caught nosing around a potential crime scene. Being taken in for questioning was the last thing she needed, as it had technically been she who had sent the car flying off the road.

She was about to take to her heels and go, when she remembered the talking rabbit. The poor creature was still lying there, amidst the scattered papers and broken glass, crying out for its non-existent mother in its baby voice. Sam's first thought was to leave it right where it was; these men, whoever they were, had already died over this freak of nature, and she needn't bring trouble upon herself. But, on the other hand, freak of nature or not, she couldn't just leave the poor thing here all by itself.

Making up her mind, Sam scooped up the rabbit into her arms again and tucked it under her anorak; she felt the little thing curl up, boring into the warmth of her body, looking content. Mounting her bike, she took off, taking the rabbit with her. Not a moment too soon, the police and the Fire Brigade arrived on the scene, finding nothing but a wrecked car and a couple of dead bodies, the thieves' prize mysteriously missing…

Taking the rabbit back to her hotel, Sam cleaned up its wounds and fed it using kitten replacement milk in an eyedropper she had bought from a local drugstore. Having absolutely no experience in caring for animals, it took a couple of days of trial and error before the rabbit was eating properly again and was soon restored to full health, his size and his inexplicable human intelligence quickly growing.

Bringing him back to London with her, she continued caring for him, while keeping her newfound friend, whom she named Stonecrop, a secret from the outside world, fearful that if word of his intelligence got out, someone would come and take him away from her. In spite of the extra expenses to keep him, she had grown too attached to ever part with him, raising him like her own child. But the mystery surrounding his place of origin still remained unsolved, as did the whereabouts of her long lost brother…

Sam hugged Stonecrop back, boring into the warmth of his soft fur, trying to ease up the disappointment from her visit to the Council Chamber that morning. "I'm sorry, Stonecrop. They refused to extend the rent any further. The eviction notice still stands; if we don't pay the full thing within a fortnight, we'll be out on the streets…" She held back a sob, knowing that she would have to be strong for both of them. Truly, things weren't looking good for them at all. She hadn't had a single client in six months, and her unemployment pay registration had expired last week; that left them with no way of getting that rent money in time, short of begging or selling what precious few worldly possessions they had. And there was another problem to think about.

Ever since taking him in, Sam had always taken great care to keep Stonecrop's talking abilities a secret, to keep him safe. In his early years, it was simply a matter of keeping his mouth shut in public, and he would easily pass for an ordinary pet rabbit wherever he went. Sam would take him on walks to the city parks, excursions to the seaside and even on some of her errands out of town. But now, Stonecrop was getting too big to venture out in public, without attracting unwanted attention; at the age of three-and-a-half, he was already the size of a Flemish Giant and still growing. At this rate, within another year or so, he'd reach three quarters the size of the average human being. And, pretence or not, a human-sized rabbit was bound to attract the attention of the authorities soon or later.

Although it had crossed Sam's mind before that Stonecrop's growing size, not to mention his talking abilities, might be difficult to keep a secret forever, she dreaded to think what might happen if the world ever found out about her furry friend. At first thought, one would think that revealing Stonecrop to the world might actually be a good idea; no doubt it would make them both worldwide celebrities, maybe earning Stonecrop a place in the Guinness World Records, not to mention ending their financial struggles forever. But Sam, having experienced the harshness of society first-hand, knew better.

The secret of Stonecrop coming out would undoubtedly also attract the attention of the less friendly type, including politicians and scientists, who might try and take advantage of her friend, to satisfy their own selfish ends. And Sam, who respected Stonecrop as an equal, would never stand for him to be used as a show thing by people who enjoyed making other people miserable. On the other hand, pretty soon, she would have no choice but to confine Stonecrop to the house, maybe for the rest of his life. And that is, if they weren't chucked out by the Council first... But what could see possibly do?

For the past three years, Sam had been searching frantically for any leads to determine Stonecrop's place of origin; her searches online, in libraries, bookshops and newspaper agencies had all come up fruitless. It was almost as if Stonecrop didn't even exist; there wasn't a single scrap of information explaining his background. Strangely enough, even the mysterious car accident, which Sam had witnessed with her own eyes, didn't exist on record anywhere, apparently covered up by someone deliberately. And while it somewhat comforted her to know that no one on the outside knew of her secret, it left her at a total loss about what to do to protect her friend. Dark times definitely lay ahead for the both of them.

The pair walked into their tiny kitchen, Stonecrop helping his foster mother put the shopping away. As usual, Sam could only afford the semi-expired trash from the supermarket clear-out section to feed them; but at least they wouldn't go hungry.

"So what have you been up to, today?"

Stonecrop, who had been nibbling at some stray crumbs coming from a box of broken oatcakes behind her back, gave her a mischievous smile, "Oh, you know, the usual; chatting online with John and Beck about the game. You know Manchester United scored ten times today...?"

"You haven't been broadcasting yourself on camera again, have you?" Sam asked, rather sternly. Although Stonecrop realised the importance of keeping his true nature secret, sometimes he couldn't resist being reckless. Once, when chatting online with his e-friends, which was all right as long as they couldn't see his face, he had switched on the camera for a joke, freaking out the boy on the other end. Fortunately, Sam had been in the room at the time and had cut the video feed before any real damage could be done, before giving Stonecrop a sound scolding. Another time, while walking in the park, where he was supposed to pass for a normal rabbit, Sam had caught him whispering behind people's backs, amusing himself by their inability to pinpoint the source of the voice. Sam had administered a spanking, threatening to ground him if he ever did something like that again. But, no matter how seriously Stonecrop took his safety, deep down, Sam knew she couldn't possibly keep him hidden forever...

Putting the last of the shopping away, she took out a battered-looking book from her purse, which she had bought at a local charity shop, and showed it to Stonecrop, "What's that?"

"Early birthday present for you, Stonecrop," she said, tenderly scratching him between the ears, as she handed him the book, "I thought you might like it better than Peter Rabbit. A lucky buy, considering the shopkeeper was willing to give it away for only five quid..."

Stonecrop stood on his hind legs, to get a better look at the book on the kitchen table. It was a worn-out, tattered paperback copy of Watership Down, which looked like it had seen several generations of owners. Little wonder it wouldn't sell for a penny. The humanoid rabbit's face fell at the sight of the famous group of rabbits on the faded cover.

Sam was quick to notice his saddened face, "Stonecrop, what's wrong?"

"It's just..." Stonecrop muttered lamely, unable to get the proper words out, "Never mind, it's nothing..."

All his life, Stonecrop, although reasonably happy living in the human world, had a secret burden because of the inexplicable thing, without a past, that he was. Being literally the only one of his kind was a miracle, but also a curse. Like Sam, he had always wondered, where did he come from? Who had brought him into this world? Why weren't there others like him? As he grew older, the feeling of loneliness, of alienation, only grew worse. In all fairness, in this world he was no more real than the story in Richard Adams' masterpiece any way he looked at it. And it hurt, bad.

Realizing her mistake and feeling for her friend, Sam sighed. How she wished she had the power to ensure a pleasant future for the both of them. Unfortunately, that prospect seemed just as non-existent as her long-lost brother, wherever he was...

Later that evening, Sam sat in a rickety plastic chair on the flat's tiny balcony, trying to escape the heat and stuffiness of indoors, reading. Stonecrop lay on the twin bed they shared inside, surfing online on Sam's ancient, second-hand laptop. Although he had received a good primary education, with Sam as his teacher, it was still a problem for him to write without hands or fingers. This problem had been solved by a pair of straws with padded tips, which he wore on the middle toe of each forepaw, like artificial nails, which he used to tap the keys and touch-pad on the computer. With some patience and practice, like an amputee with prosthetic fingers, he had become skilled in typing away using his prosthetics, allowing him to make the most of his human education.

Finding no promising job opportunities available in the column, she tossed the newspaper away and picked up the untouched copy of Watership Down sitting on the coffee table beside her. Her hopeless job hunting could wait for tonight. She had a whole weekend to renew the search, and maybe something would come up. If worse came to worse, as a last resort, she'd sell her courier bicycle, which she always kept in pristine condition. Although a sad predicament, maybe if she bargained hard enough at the pawn shop, she might get enough money to pay the rent, buying them another month under this roof, to try and make some plans...

Opening the book, she frowned at the wretched condition the pages were in, just like the cover. Every inch of blank space was filled with curious notes and annotations, apparently made by the previous owner, probably a student. Outright desecration of a good book, Sam thought in disapproval, but, at least, it was all in pencil, rather than ink, so it didn't obscure the print.

As she made her way through chapter one, she happened to glance at one of the annotations, which had an arrow pointing at a footnote on the bottom of the page. She read aloud: "Day 1: Still no sign of rescue. It was then, while scouting the area for food that I stumbled across the most amazing discovery of my life: a warren of humanoid, talking rabbits, which have somehow 'adopted' the social, religious and linguistic aspects of the universe of Mr Adams' grand tale as part of their world..."

Humanoid, talking rabbits...? Sam's heart skipped a beat as she read those words a dozen times over, wondering if she had somehow misread it. But no, it was right there, before her eyes; what she had first assumed were just some insignificant student's notes, were in fact, what seemed to be, the contents of a secret diary of sorts, hidden within the book. And, this diary detailed the previous owner's encounter with some humanoid, talking rabbits - rabbits like Stonecrop!

"Can this account be genuine?" Sam wondered, not sure whether to feel amazed or stupid, "Maybe it's just some geek fan's material for a good fanfic or something...?" Taking her mind off the original story completely, she turned all her attention to these mysterious diary entries, which, she noticed, were written in parallel with the text, almost as if the writer had been comparing his adventures with similarities in the book. The read on a little further. The entries looked serious and too-well detailed to be made up. It didn't seem to be some coincidence... But who could have written all of this? And where did this happen?

Flipping back to the front page, he saw a name scribbled on the back of the cover, with the owner's address beneath it:

'This book is the property of Alan Alexander Johnson.'

Author's note: As a reminder to continuity, in the first story, Alan had written down his memoirs from his first journey into the future in his Watership Down copy, but then, he had lost it when Sven had blown up Hotdog's shop. Afterwards it was salvaged from the rubble by one of the council workmen, who had sold it, until it ended up in Sam's possession, who has a good reason to believe the story because of Stonecrop. The origins of Stonecrop will be explained later on, unless you've already guessed it... Enjoy and please review!