31st December 2794, Watership Down
Frith's Eve
The snow from the blizzard the night before had settled across the vast Meadows of Fenlo, a region that had once been southern England, but otherwise the morning sky was clear. The winters in this future age were long and bitter cold because of the shifted climate, lasting from November all the way till early March, forcing the creatures of Frith to take refuge in their dens, trying not to starve until spring came. With the exception of one.
On the high hills, formerly known as the Downs of Hampshire, was a double colony of the most unusual sort. On the western summit of Watership Down, with a view of Beacon Hill, was a man-made compound – the only human settlement in the whole of England, and perhaps the whole planet, now deprived of the long-forgotten human civilisation. This was the home of a unique group of settlers.
Inside the thatch-roof cottage built in the centre of this compound, which resembled a farm, a young red-headed girl of around twelve lay dozing off in her hammock. Lucy Annette Johnson, born in London, England in 2004, was the daughter of the legendary Dr Alan Johnson; the youngest member of their five-person colony, which included herself, her father, her godfather Derek, their handyman Hotdog, and her stepmother Josie, widow of the late Major James McEwen. And, of course, their neighbours.
Beneath a lone beech tree on the other side of the Down, with a view to the north, was the Honeycomb, home warren of the Watership rabbits, who lived in peace and harmony with this last remnant of mankind. The story of how this fascinating double-colony came to be went back four long years, when the anthropomorphic lagomorphs, as the rabbits of the future were formally referred to, first met intelligent, 21st century humans, centuries after mankind's extinction.
It all started in 2012, when Alan Johnson first discovered this post-human world, after accidentally flying through a time-distortion warp caused by a rare coronal mass ejection, bending space-time between the two eras and opening a gateway into futurity. Stranded with three other companions, Alan had befriended the rabbits which would eventually become the Watershipers, originally a band of hlessil fleeing their doomed warren. Together, they had undergone a long and perilous journey across the wilderness known as the forbidden Dark Territory, having many adventures on the way, finally leading up to a climactic battle against the notorious General Woundwort – the descendant of the same rabbit warlord who had destroyed the human race centuries earlier. Through hardships and sacrifice, in the end, they had triumphed.
With the most feared rabbit tyrant that had ever lived finally defeated, Alan, his family, and their rabbit friends had built a whole new life for themselves. Without the threat of war or enemies out to destroy them, and with mankind once more reintroduced into the world, the colony on Watership Down had thrived into a entirely new community of intelligent rabbits and human beings living together in peaceful coexistence. And Lucy, being the youngest, had the advantage of being part of this new world from the very start. In other words, she felt like the happiest girl on earth. Her life, however, hadn't always been this perfect.
Her early childhood hadn't been particularly happy. When she was still a toddler, her father had been called away to war in the Far East, which had kept him separated from the family for three long years. Then, when she was seven, another terrible tragedy had befallen the family; an old foe of her father's had appeared into their lives, bent on destroying the family. Even now, she still had occasional nightmares of the brutal madman who had murdered her mother and kidnapped her, keeping her locked away from the outside world for over a year, passing her off as dead, with the purpose of making her father suffer, before returning to kill him too. But in the end, superior might and justice had won.
With Russell Robbins, otherwise known as Ronald Fields, also dead and gone, following his and Alan's final man-to-man confrontation, the Johnson family had finally found peace and true happiness in the new world. Although born in the 21st century, Lucy had long since suppressed any memories she had of that long-gone world, where she'd only known misery. The 28th century was now her home – the world of rabbits was where she truly belonged.
As she lay there, lazily dozing off, she heard her bedroom door creak open and someone tiptoe inside. She knew the wake-up call that was coming before it did. Suddenly, she felt a familiar hand gently grab her ankle trailing over the side of the hammock and start tickling her foot, "Wake up, Lucy. You don't want to sleep in all day, do you?" Overwhelmed with ticklish giggles, Lucy looked up at her smiling father, Alan.
Alan Johnson hadn't changed much over the years. Now in his late thirties, he was still tall and handsome, with broad shoulders and a muscular built, perfected over years of hard physical exercise. The only impairment to his good looks were the round glasses he wore, and the old battle scars still faintly visible all over his body. With his long hair tied in a short ponytail, he looked like a younger version of Steven Seagal. A born adventurer with a brilliant scientific mind, he fitted well in this world, just like his daughter.
Originally a research scientist of biology, Alan used to teach natural sciences at the Royal University of London. But he hardly thought himself as a college professor any longer. A hero for his role in Woundwort's downfall during the Battle of Efrafa, he was now the Chief Rabbit's closest trustee and representative, or quaestor – in other words, the liaison between the rabbits and the humans, as well as the de facto leader of their little community. To this day, he was well respected by the rabbits of Watership Down, a heart-brother to the whole warren, as his rabbit friends often referred to him.
"Okay, Daddy, I'm up! No need to tickle me to death!" Lucy giggled, sitting up in her hammock and pulling her foot out of her father's grip, "Frith of Inle, we're on holiday! Can't I sleep in late for once…?"
"Tell that to your friends expecting you outside, princess," said Alan, "Not that I blame them; it's such a lovely day for sledging…" With a gasp, Lucy hurryingly jumped out of bed to dress, as her father stepped outside to give her some privacy. Finally, there was a break in the heavy weather that had been persisting for several days now, keeping them confined indoors, which meant she and her friends could now go out at last and play in the snow. And, boy, did she have a surprise for them!
Pulling on her oversized winter boots, she stood in front of a full-length mirror, fashioned out of several old bathroom mirror panes joined together, doing up her long hair in a ponytail. She glanced at a picture hanging on the wall beside the mirror, taken on their first anniversary, showing her and her adoptive rabbit-brother Pipkin, her father playfully dangling her younger self by her ankles as they posed for the camera. She smiled at the happy memory, as she stood admiring herself in the mirror. She sure was changing into something more than just being Daddy's innocent little girl. Indeed, for a twelve-year old, she was quite a sight.
A pretty young girl, slender and athletic-looking, slowly getting taller as she neared puberty, with hazel eyes, just like her father's, she looked like a little female version of Indiana Jones, with her khaki trousers, shirt and boots. Unlike most girls her age, she wore no makeup or jewellery, save for a couple of bracelets woven out of old circuit-wire and a badger's-tooth pendant, taken from a beast her father had shot last year. She could still remember the ferocious creature that had moved into their orchard the previous spring and nearly attacked her Uncle Fiver during the harvest, before being shot. Around her waist, she also wore a leather utility belt, from which hang a steel crossbow, a hunter's knife and a sheath of bolt arrows – a present from her father on her last birthday.
Any common person would think this was either a fancy dress or simply a reckless child playing with a dangerous weapon. On the contrary, dressing as if on safari or carrying weapons was very common around here, and Lucy was disciplined and properly trained by her father to use it responsibly. Even her bedroom, built inside the thatch roof of the cottage, testified to her unusual way of life: a hammock for a bed, a wood heater fashioned out of an old oil drum for warmth, a closet containing a wardrobe fit only for wilderness, a wall lined with shelves containing some books, family pictures, outdoor equipment, a collection of ornaments fashioned out of scavenged everyday trinkets, and even some jury-rigged monkey-bars and weights in a corner for gymnastics. Beneath her giggly, playful personality, who still liked her father to tickle her silly, Lucy was nature's hard-core child at heart.
Donning a camouflaged hooded winter coat and her gloves, she hurried downstairs. Their home, although secluded and isolated, was fitted with all the proper facilities needed to make life away from civilization bearable, if not independent. Consisting of half a dozen scattered structures, each part of the compound served a different purpose: adjacent to the house was a glass greenhouse, built out of bits of old steel infrastructure and glass panes, just like the infrastructure of the house. This controlled environment, built entirely by her father, served as their main food source during the cold winter months, as well as a place to grow medicinal herbs, to furnish the medical chest of their home infirmary.
On either side of the house were a couple of barn-like buildings; one was the laboratory and workshop - the place where Alan and Derek Shaw, the colony's two scientific minds, put their skills to good use; opposite that was the warehouse for their winter stores and other supplies. On the far side of the house was an enclosure, housing an orchard of fruit trees and a plough field for crops, now bare from the winter frost. Also, there was the barn, where the colonists kept their livestock and horses. A water tower beside the barn, refilled daily by a pair of hand-operated pumps drawing water from the Dark River at the foot of the Down, provided a sustainable water supply for the colony. And last, but not least, there was the windmill out in the middle of the field.
This structure was the colonists' powerhouse. With sail blades fashioned out of parachute nylon, it used the non-exhaustible winds of the high hills to turn a small dynamo, which, in turn, supplied power to a small battery bay built inside the shack at the base of the structure, providing enough power to keep the low-voltage electric lights and some electrical equipment around the compound, running. Nothing fancy, but sufficient.
Her father was waiting on the porch to see her off, "Now, don't you forget your chores, dear. Your Uncle Deke and Hotdog are out working at the Hut and won't be back until nightfall. Make sure you're at the greenhouse, two o'clock sharp, to land a hand." Tonight was New Year's Eve – also celebrated by their rabbit friends as Frith's Eve – and they were preparing for the annual feast. Although Alan didn't like to keep her from enjoying the day out in the snow with her friends, after two weeks of boring confinement to the house because of the weather, he always insisted that everyone did their share of chores on time.
"I won't. Love you, Daddy!" she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and hurrying out onto the Down.
"Have fun, dear! And, remember, stay within sight of the Down!" Alan called after her, smiling at the sight of his daughter looking so happy and full of life, if not a tad bit concerned. Although the weather was clear, there were still a good number of other dangers out there. Ever since settling down here, Alan always made sure his daughter stayed cautious at all times outside, with a firm hand whenever she disobeyed the safety rules. Having already lost her once before, he strictly forbid her from leaving the boundaries of the Down, so he could keep a close eye on her. Even now, as they were nearing their fourth anniversary in the new world, the memories of the nightmare he and his friends had gone through still persisted. At times, he lived with the fear that some new enemy might come along and disturb their peaceful lives once again… Dismissing his worrying thoughts, he donned his own jacket and hurried out, to tend to his own work.
Lucy made her way along the footpath towards the Honeycomb, humming to herself. Stopping at the foot of a tree with a hollow partway up, she tapped the bark with the hilt of her knife, to attract the attention of the dweller residing within. A red squirrel, enlarged way beyond the average size of her long-vanished 21st century counterpart, just like every other animal in this world, emerged from the hollow, sniffing the air.
"Hallo, Tassel," Lucy greeted the family pet, whom they'd adopted a couple of years back after finding her as a newborn kit, the sole survivor of an abandoned litter. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a handful of peanuts. Tassel darted down the tree, and started eating the treat out of Lucy's outstretched hand with great gusto. Although, unlike the rabbits, she couldn't speak – only the lagomorphs shared their human intelligence -, the mutual trust between them was clear. Their second family pet, Yona the hedgehog, was currently hibernating in his den somewhere and wouldn't be emerging, begging for treats, until next spring.
Leaving Tassel to her meal, Lucy hurried along, heading for the northern summit of the Down. In contrast to their side of the hill, this side was pristine and untouched by man, as part of her father's promise to Hazel-rah of never intruding upon their warren - the first ever official treaty made between man and animal to share the land fairly and in peace. With a couple of small exceptions.
Close to the warren stood a marble statue of a giant rabbit; large, handsome and brave-looking, this rabbit-Adonis, slowly turning a mossy green from age, was the long-deceased El-ahrairah, the first lagomorph. Standing tall and proud, much like the Piper at the Gates of Dawn, his likeness watched over the warren and its people – including the dead. Not too far away from the statue were also half a dozen marker-stones and crosses, bearing names – the graves of the brave souls who had died in the Battle of Efrafa four years ago.
The frozen grass plain around the beech tree where the rabbits usually snoozed and grazed in spring, was, not surprisingly, deserted. With such bitter cold, the elder rabbits preferred to snooze underground, where it was warm and cosy. Even the Owsla wasn't out on its usual morning patrol because of the recent heavy weather. And today, being Frith's Eve, even the stern, bullying Captain Bigwig had to give his Owsla a break.
Crouching low so she could fit, Lucy crawled down the narrow entrance run. Inside, was a massive chamber with a domed ceiling, held up by the gigantic roots of the beech tree above. Although underground, with no access to sunlight other than the entrance, the interior was blazing with artificial light generated by a number of light bulbs strung up in little knots and crannies along the burrow walls, powered by an underground power line from to the windmill, keeping the place lit day and night. Although the rabbits were far from adopting human technology, preferring to keep the society of their ancestors intact, a few small luxuries like electric lighting worked to the benefit of both parties.
Several rabbits were running around the main chamber, decorating the place with pieces of ivy, holly and yew, in preparation for the upcoming feast. Some of them noticed Lucy enter and hurried over to greet her, not looking the least fearful of the human that had just entered their warren. As far as they were concerned, she and her family were one of them.
"Frithaes, Lucy," said a creamy coffee-brown-furred buck with strong, but gentle, wise eyes, coming up to nuzzle her on the nose, Lucy returning the greeting in the same rabbit-like manner. Hazel-rah, the Chief Rabbit of Watership Down and a good friend of her father's, was like an uncle to her. Originally a lowly outskirter, Hazel, along with Alan, had led their group of Sandleford refugees all the way to Watership Down and through the finally battle with Efrafa, eventually becoming Chief Rabbit. A natural-born leader with courage and a warm heart, he was the undisputed and beloved Chief of his people.
Following right behind him was his mate, Hyzenthlay. A former Efrafan slave of outsider ancestry, as the former Efrafans used to refer to any alien rabbits they captured or enslaved, she had been the leader of a group of rebel does determined to escape their life of slavery. After Efrafa was destroyed and all the slaves liberated, she and her friends had settled down on Watership Down, mating with the bucks and mothering the latest generation of the warren. Gentle, sensible, caring and strong-willed, Hyzenthlay was devoted to her family and warren, as well as a strong supporting figure to those around her, always offering encouragement and affection to the weak or to those in need. She was also well-known for her campaigning for equal rights between bucks and does, much to the disapproval of some of the more traditional rabbits of their male-dominated society. And Lucy, human or not, was no exception to her warm, motherly affection.
"It's so good to see you again, dear," said the doe warmly with her deep, Scottish-like accent, standing on her hind legs so Lucy could give her a hug, "I'm so happy you'll be with us to celebrate Frith's Eve, my dear child."
"Pleasure is all mine, Auntie Hyzenthlay," said Lucy, boring deep into her soft, warm fur. If a stranger were present, he would have been astonished by the fact that all these greetings exchanged between them were spoken in Lapine, rather than English. Unlike her father and fellow colonists who only spoke a broken dialect of the lagomorphs' native tongue, Lucy, having the advantage of learning it from an early age, was a fluent speaker, impressing her elders.
The pair had hardly pulled apart when Lucy met with yet another greeting. A pair of strong paws suddenly grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides, and lifting her off her feet into a bear-hug. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the smiling face of an enormous rabbit with a mane of fur growing around his neck and head. Thlayli, commonly known among his friends as Bigwig, was Captain of Owsla and Hazel's second-in-command. The strongest and most courageous of the Watershippers, he was a natural-born warrior, another war veteran from the Battle of Efrafa, whose worse time in life was when the world was at peace. Even now, four years after the final battle, he still insisted on keeping his easy-going Owsla up to scratch at all times, with regular training and patrols, much to their dismay. Although not known for his sense of humour or fun, being a stern, no-nonsense type of fellow, who often bullied anyone who'd step out of line, he still had a soft spot for some things, Lucy being one of them.
"Well, well, well, looks like I've caught a little ithe," said Bigwig half-jokingly, playfully rumpling her hair with his massive paw, using the other to keep her locked in his rigid embrace. Hazel and Hyzenthlay smiled with amusement.
"Bigwig, stop it, you're ruining my hair!" Lucy squealed, her vision obscured by her own messed-up hair falling across her eyes, her ponytail ruined. Ever since she had moved here as a little child, she had always been a favourite amongst the rabbits, who loved her like one of their own, always playing with her, nuzzling her, letting her ride around on their backs, and, in Bigwig's case, tease and toy with her. Lucy, of course, liked all that loving attention…even Bigwig's playful roughhousing.
"Constant vigilance, young one!" said the mighty veteran gruffly, keeping it up, "Has the spirit of the festivities made you forget your training in the Junior Owsla so soon? If I were elil, you'd be touching noses with the Black Rabbit of Inle!" Finally, he relented, but still retained his grip on the giggling Lucy, who was beginning to feel a little embarrassed by being held captive by this oaf of a rabbit.
"Eh…Bigwig, could you put me down, please?"
"No, I don't think so," chuckled the mighty veteran in amusement, "Come and say hallo to everyone."
"Bigwig, really, this isn't very dignified! I can walk on my own two feet…!" Lucy protested, still wriggling in vain to get free, but Bigwig would hear none of it.
Carrying the wriggling human girl under one arm like a teddy bear, the large rabbit strode into the main assembly chamber of the Honeycomb, with the trapped Lucy having no choice but to follow suit. This was where both rabbits and humans would gather together on cold days like this, trading stories or playing Bobstones.
Some of the senior rabbits were gathered around, watching a game of Bobstones. A greying, elderly rabbit with a large built similar to Bigwig's was playing against another, younger buck of around Lucy's age. Captain Holly, the most senior rabbit in the warren, had been Captain of Owsla at Sandleford before joining Hazel's group. Once a proud and snobbish rabbit, he had soon shown his positive side with his support and courage throughout their journey and during the Battle of Efrafa. After the fall of Woundwort, he had become the Watershipers' first ambassador at Vleflain, the new warren founded by the now-liberated former Efrafans.
His young competitor was Speedwell Junior, named after his father Bluebell's deceased cousin. He and his other siblings were the first litter to arrive on Watership Down - the first of a whole new generation of human-friendly rabbits. Adolescents now, they were growing into sensible, brave and good-hearted rabbits, due to join Bigwig's Owsla as trainees next season. Speedwell had even inherited his uncle's skill at Bobstones, giving even the warren's senior champions like Holly and Bigwig a run for their flayrah.
Their audience were a mixture of former Sandlefordians, Efrafans and other nationalities, which made up the peaceful, multinational senior population of the warren. There was Silver, the late Threarah's tub-of-lard-fat but good-natured nephew and young Speedwell's uncle, the brother of his mother Violet; Hawkbit, a sarcastic and often irate, but otherwise friendly, grey buck; Dandelion, a slim, golden-furred buck and a good friend of Hawkbit's, was the warren's best storyteller; Blackberry, a genius and inventive buck, once an advisor on the Threarah's Council, now served as an advisor to Hazel-rah.
Also, there was Fiver, Hazel's seer brother, a small, runty buck, but very wise and caring, and the closest thing to a brother to Alan; Strawberry, a slightly obese, ginger-furred buck, who came from a dishonest warren the Sandleford refugees had encountered on their journey here. He and his now-deceased mate Nildrohein had deserted their master, the notorious Cowslip, in favour of a new life of freedom. Sadly, Nildrohein had been killed during the Efrafan siege on the Down before she could make a fresh start. Finally, there was Pipkin, the youngest of the original Sandleford group, an orphan whom Alan had taken under his wing when they'd first met and raised him like his own son, making him Lucy's step-brother.
Several does were also there, watching the game. Aside from Hyzenthlay, there was her sister Thethuthinang, another former Efrafan slave, who was Blackberry's mate and the mother of his children; Vilthuril, the mate of Fiver, a small, timid doe like her mate, but a caring and dedicated mother. And finally, there was Nelthilta, Hawkbit's mate, a young, blabbering doe, with a tendency of getting on everyone's nerves sometimes, especially Hawkbit's, but still a loving soul. They were the only couple that still had no kittens.
"…Bobstone guess is four."
"Very good, Speedwell," said Holly, revealing the four little stones he had been concealing under his forepaws, "Your uncle would be proud, young bucko." The young rabbit smiled triumphantly, as the spectators cheered their new Bobstone champion ("Big deal! As I recall, I could beat his uncle at every game," muttered Hawkbit sarcastically). Behind Speedwell, his brothers Buckthorn, named after their second deceased uncle, and Acorn, named after another member of the original Sandleford group, cheered aloud, congratulating their brother.
As Bigwig emerged with Lucy, the rabbits turned their attention away from the game, and hurried over to greet their visitor. The burly rabbit had hardly released her, when Lucy found herself swarmed by a sea of fur, as the rabbits lovingly nuzzled her in greeting.
"Lucy!" cried Pipkin with joy, jumping into her arms, almost knocking her to the floor. Although a late adolescent now, Pipkin hadn't grown much in size over the years, if not in chubbiness, still the adorable, innocent, good-natured rabbit, as well as the pluckiest in spirit. Of all the rabbits, Alan had personally given him a proper human education, putting him way ahead, intelligent-wise, of the rest of his friends. Gradually, the once-insecure and skittish dwarf rabbit, haunted by the death of his parents, had vanished, and a confident and responsible young buck had emerged. "Happy Frith's Eve, ma rusita!"
"This is a surprise!" said Dandelion, also rushing forward to say hello, "Will you be joining us when I tell the story of El-ahrairah and the Great Freeze tonight?"
"Never mind the nuter's boring stories again! How about you and the Junior Owsla help me pull a prank on Bigwig instead?" said Hawkbit, craning his neck so Lucy could scratch him between the ears, "I still owe him some payback for having us work like stinking does on Frith's Eve…!" In preparation for the feast, the rabbits would be helping out in the greenhouse, harvesting flayrah, something Hawkbit wasn't particularly looking forward to. Nelthilta, who could be as lazy as her mate at times, pulled a face at him. Behind him, Bigwig shot them all a warning glare, implying that the first idiot who would dare pull some funny prank on him would rue the day he was born.
"Eh…Do you mind? I can't breathe!" Lucy squealed from beneath the rigid furry embrace, trying not to laugh from the rabbits' noses and whiskers tickling her all over as they continued nuzzling her in delight. Finally, the excitement died down and she was able to get back on her feet again. "I'm so glad to see you all!"
"Pleasure is all ours, young one," said Holly, walking over to greet her in a more dignified manner that the younger rabbits. He placed his paws over her shoulders, pulling her close, "Your father made this happy warren possible. You and your family are always welcome here." Lucy wrapped her arms around the aging rabbit's neck, giving him a hug.
"Yes, thanks to Alan, it's good riddance to slimy old Woundwort. Born a loser and died a loser, that rotter," chanted Hawkbit, earning a few laughs from the other rabbits.
"May he rot in the utmost depths of the Shadowlands forever," put in Nelthilta, visibly shuddering at the memory of her last encounter with General Woundwort: being dragged in front of the Owslafa Council for interrogation under torture, only to be saved in the nick of time by Alan's rescue party, shortly before Efrafa had fallen. Even now, four years later, she still had a bit of a crush on the human for saving her and her friends, much like a younger Pipkin once had.
It was then that Lucy suddenly realised a couple of faces she had been expecting to see were absent, "Say, where are Bluebell and Violet?" The faces of the couple's three sons fell at these words.
"Parli isn't feeling well again," explained Speedwell grimly, explaining how their father had been out coaching the junior Owsla that morning in a sky-jump exercise, when he had collapsed into a seizure, "Marli and Josie are with him now."
"Third time this season," said Hazel sadly, who had joined in the game with Hyzenthlay, "He's getting worse every time."
Her cheerful spirit shattered at this bad news, Lucy excused herself and made her way down to the sleeping burrows in the heart of the warren. In truth, she, just like everyone else, knew of Bluebell's heart condition that had been troubling him for a while now. Lucy could still remember when they had brought him back home after the Battle of Efrafa gravely injured at the hands of Robbins and in need of a heart transplant. Although they had been fortunate to find a donor then – his cousin Speedwell's heart, another war fatality, had been the perfect tissue match – and successfully performed the live-saving operation against all odds, Bluebell had not been so lucky after all.
Starting with loss of breath, fainting spells, chest pains and fatigue whenever he exerted himself, Bluebell's health had rapidly declined in the months following his operation. Eventually, he had collapsed into a seizure during an Owsla drill, making them realise that something had gone terribly wrong. Josh had finally determined that his new heart, although tissue-compatible, had been a misfit; Bluebell had an enlarged heart, under constant strain from the pressure of his smaller chest cavity. Because of that compression, there wasn't enough blood being pumped by the heart, causing it to back up into the lungs like a wet sponge, and overtaxing the organ in its efforts to keep up. Simply put, if he exerted himself even slightly, a seizure would kick in, leaving him at the mercy of anyone nearest to him to get him to Josie for CPR.
Evaluating his condition, Josie had given him only about a year to live. Surprisingly, Bluebell had held on for nearly four so far, but his life was no longer what it used to be. Unable to do anything strenuous, he had been forced to retire from the Owsla and the Junior Owsla, and always urged to stay close to the warren. At times, he couldn't help himself and do something foolish, like today, which meant gambling with his life.
Lucy entered Bluebell's burrow, where the sick buck lay resting on some straw bedding. Josie, the colony's physician was also there, taking his pulse, aided by her two rabbit assistants: Bluebell's mate Violet, a skilled healer rabbit, and their eldest child and only daughter Bluebella, who was being trained as a healer by her mother.
"Hallo, Lucy, please come in," Violet said, as she and her daughter turned to greet her warmly, in spite of the grim occasion. Lucy returned their greeting with a hug for each doe, before turning to Bluebell. The buck was awake and conscious, but his declining health was apparent: although still quite young, his dark-brown fur was slowly turning a shade of grey, making him look aged and tired. Across his chest, the old scar from his transplant operation was still visible beneath his fur. But that wasn't enough to suppress his comical spirit.
"Frith of Inle, an ithe!" cried Bluebell in mock-fear, "Oh, please don't eat me! Oh Frith, I'm dying of fear…!" He pretended to drop dead from a heart attack. But as it often happened, his thirst for cracking a joke came at the worst possible moment.
"That's not funny, Bluebell!" snapped Violet incredulously, scolding her mate, "And in front of your daughter too! Don't you realise you might have been taken by the Black Rabbit of Inle today…?" Obviously she thought his condition was not something to be taken lightly, much less to pass it off with a cheap laugh. Lucy, seeing Bluebella's frightened expression, who had, for a moment, almost taken his act for the real thing, thought Violet had a good point. She turned to Josie.
"How's he doing?"
"He'll be all right," she said, taking off her stethoscope and preparing a shot, "His heart rate was up to almost three hundred beats a minute when they brought him in. It's a miracle it didn't lead to heart failure… Damn it, Bluebell, how many times must I tell you? You're not supposed to exert yourself! What were you thinking?"
"I was only having a bit of fun with the children," protested the buck, looking rather hurt. Being a former Owsla scout, he really missed all the patrols and combat exercises he used to attend back in his Sandleford days, as well as his swimming, and even digging, all of which he was now strictly barred from, "Can't I even coach the children in some basic Owsla exercises…?"
"I've told you, Bluebell, you have to give up on your old habits if you want to live," said Josie, trying to be as sympathetic as possible, "If you don't stop his recklessness and come to grips with your delicate condition, one of these days you won't get lucky. You'll die, plain and simple." Bluebella stifled a sob; although, like her brothers, she had long since accepted the fact that their father might not live much longer, it hurt her bad to see him like this. Her mother pulled her close to comfort her.
"Hush, now, dear. You have to be strong for all of us."
Josie finished packing up her kit, "Well, I've got household duties to attend to back at the house. I'll see you again this evening at the feast." She turned and walked out of the burrow.
Lucy felt so sorry for Bluebell as she watched Josie leave; she understood all too well how frustrating it must be for him, being forced to live on the sidelines like some invalid, unable to do any of the things he once loved so much. Unfortunately, Josie had explained that there was nothing that could be done for him, save for another transplant, which was impossible. She remembered how she'd always volunteer to take their children out to play as kittens, while Violet was busy tending to her sick mate.
Bidding the sulking Bluebell goodbye, promising to come visit him later at the feast, and maybe bring him some of her father's pickled carrot-and-sauerkraut treats he loved to cheer him up, Lucy left, to go and meet her friends. Aside from Bluebell and Violet's children, now nearly grown-up, the rest of the Watership youngsters were around her age now; she always found it a bit weird that she had known them all since birth, starting off being a big sister to them, yet they all eventually surpassed her age-wise as they grew older, owing to the simple fact that one human year was equivalent to four for the rabbits.
The Junior Owsla had their own private meeting spot only a short distance from the Honeycomb, on the edge of the Down, overlooking Caesar's Belt. This club had been Pipkin and Lucy's idea, which they had founded with Alan, Bigwig and the rest of the Owsla veterans acting as their instructors, dedicated to preserving the trials and efforts of those who had started this colony, and all the valuable lessons of friendship and unity they had learned through their experience.
A group of eighteen bucks and does, including Lucy, resembling the Boys' Scouts, were the Junior Owsla of Watership Down. As often happens in rabbit society, the strongest in a group was, by rule, the leader, and in this case, it was Lucy's best friend, Sandwort, the eldest son of Holly. Big and strong for his young age, courageous, and even reckless at times, he easily inspired the other youngsters, bucks and does alike, to look up to him as their leader. Lucy, whom he loved like a sister and vice-versa, was his right paw, so to speak, the second-in-command of their group.
Aside from the two of them, there were Sandwort's younger siblings, Melsa, Crowla and Pimpernel, named after another deceased member of the original Sandleford group. Also, there were Hyzenthlay and Hazel's daughters, Snowdrop, Gillia, Tindra and the eldest of the four, Primrose. Other members included Thethuthinang and Blackberry's children, Foxglove, Frogbit, Sparrow and Yale; and finally, Fiver and Vilthuril's four sons, Forest, Walnut, Peanut, Almond, and Little Threar, the youngest and smallest of them all. While the reckless Sandwort on the top inspired strength and daring, on the bottom, timid Little Threar was the voice of reason amongst the group, taking after his father's wisdom.
Admitting does into the Junior Owsla had initially been a subject of some debate, as it was extremely uncommon for the weaker sex to be doing things meant only for bucks. But thanks to Hyzenthlay's pioneering for equal rights for does, furthered by Lucy's own support, that ancient taboo had soon been overcome, if not half-heartedly by some of the more traditional bucks like Blackberry or Bigwig. Together, the Watership youngsters made a good team, having their own adventures and escapades, with the occasional supervision or assistance of the adults. This, in turn, deepened their friendship and permitted the younger generation to learn to respect and support each other from an early age, in sharp contrast to Sandleford's divided elite/outskirter class system, or Efrafa's slavery regime, now both buried beneath the dust of history.
Lucy approached the boulder where the Junior Owsla held their meetings. To her utmost surprise, there was no one there…or so she thought. Before she could unravel this strange silence, she heard a voice yell 'Charge!' and next thing she knew, she was being tackled to the ground by a group of young rabbits that had sprang at her from hidden scrapes underneath the snow where they had buried themselves, catching her by surprise.
Despite her training, Lucy had no time to dodge this surprise attack; in an instant, she found herself flat on the ground, the youngsters pinning her arms and legs, immobilising her. Looking up, she saw a familiar large rabbit sitting on her chest, grinning down at her.
"Sandwort! You idiot, you scared me!" she shrieked, yet couldn't help but laugh along with her friends. Sandwort, a large, husky buck with steel-grey fur like his father's, only fluffier from his mother Clover's Angora genes, nuzzled her in greeting, smirking.
"Burial ambush," he chuckled, "Bigwig said we ought to try it out." Lucy rolled her eyes; she should have known Bigwig would train the Junior Owsla to pull that old trick, and then suggest they try it out on her. Maybe she ought to go along with her Uncle Hawkbit's idea and pull the most embarrassing prank they could cook up on Bigwig after all… But, thanks to her father's training in Marine combat skills, she had a couple of surprises of her own up her sleeve…
Noticing Sandwort had let his guard down, enjoying the victorious cheers from the rest of their group, Lucy seized her opportunity; with a sudden backward leap, she sent the unsuspecting rabbit flying off of her, turning the tables on him. In an instant, she had Sandwort pinned under her, using her hands to pin his paws over his head in a wrist-lock. She grinned down at her friend.
"Constant vigilance, remember?" she chuckled, throwing Bigwig's taunt back at Sandwort, "Remember the Owsla saying? 'The price of freedom is eternal vigilance!'" she said, quoting another of Bigwig's favourite mottos (ironically, the very same one used centuries earlier by the SAS). But Sandwort also had his own backup plan worked out. Another valuable lesson he had learned, in this case from Bluebell, was to exploit any weakness the opponent possessed. And, being such close friends with Lucy, he knew of her own little weakness…
Reaching up, he nuzzled her in the armpit. The effect was an instant squirm of ticklish giggles from Lucy, who loosened her grip. Satisfied that he was turning the tide in his favour, Sandwort kept it up. Pretty soon, he had Lucy pinned again as he continued tickling her senseless, the rest of the Junior Owsla also joining in the fun.
"All right, all right, you win!" Lucy shrieked, between her gales of laughter. Finally, they relented and Sandwort helped her to her feet. They both laughed; even when they pulled such pranks on each other, they never held any hard feelings whatsoever.
"Well, where's the surprise?" asked Primrose impatiently. Being the eldest doe, not to mention the most beautiful in the whole warren, taking after her mother's good looks, her sisters and cousins all looked up to her as something of a matriarch, much like the bucks did with Sandwort, giving her an air of great self-importance, which occasionally caused her to go way over her head. Although she wasn't selfish or mean, she still had her pride, being the popular, eldest child of the Chief Rabbit and all. But, despite her occasional arrogance, Lucy still liked her.
She led them to the edge of a purposely-built incline which run down the side of the Down, leading down into the open plains below. Standing there, covered with a snow-drenched piece of canvas, was a wooden sail-sled, a Christmas present from her godfather Derek.
The colony's skilled engineer, with a reputation of being able to built just about anything out of virtually nothing, had fashioned the craft out of old packing-crate planking, with some twisted lengths of titanium piping for the skids and mast, and some leftover parachute nylon and cord for the sail and rigging. A couple of small aircraft seats served as the seating place for two passengers. Like it often happened, there was no instructor; everything they built, they had to learn to use on their own, through trial and error. Although her father would have preferred that he or Derek accompany them during the first few trial runs, to ensure the craft was safe, Lucy had persuaded him to let her and her friends try it out themselves.
"Well, what do you think?"
The young rabbits stared in puzzlement at the strange craft, not knowing what to make of it. All of them knew how humans built these strange contraptions, or hrududil as they called them, for travelling, whether on land, water or air, yet the concept was still quite difficult to grasp. Then, Little Threar, the smartest in the group, spoke up.
"It's a…a s-sled, isn't?" he said, stressing the pronunciation of the alien word, "A hrududu for travelling on ice and snow," he explained, "I remember Uncle Alan talking about them in his stories of the old itlel-world…"
"Can't see much use for it," scoffed Primrose, defensive of her pride as a rabbit, "With Bigwig's training, we're all fast as El-ahrairah. What would we need a hrududu for?" The others however looked excited at the idea of riding on a real hrududu. Together, they got to work, setting up the mast and sail, and soon had the sled ready for its first trial run. As the sled was too small for all of them, so Lucy chose the volunteering Sandwort, Little Threar, and, surprisingly, Primrose, for the first go.
"Cast off!"
The rest of the rabbits released the mooring lines and the sled was sent racing downhill, towards the foot of the Down and out onto the frozen meadow beyond. Manning the pulley that controlled the spar of the sail with one hand and the rudder with the other, Lucy stirred the craft into the wind, picking up speed. The handling felt surprisingly easier than she had expected, even for a beginner, and she was quickly getting the hang of it.
Pretty soon, they were having the time of their lives, going around in circles on the frozen meadow, like skaters on an ice rink. With poor Primrose clinging to her seat, screaming in terror every time Lucy did a twist, while Little Threar sat back, enjoying the ride on Lucy's lap and the daredevil Sandwort urging them to go faster, and with the rest of their friends cheering them on from afar, another day of fun wore on…
From his lab window, Alan watched Lucy and her friends having their fun as promised. His workspace, built inside one of the outhouses of the compound, was his personal little domain, fitted with all the scientific conveniences for carrying out his private pursuits.
Lined with old stainless-steel tables taken from the HAB's mess hall, serving as worktables, amidst cluttered cabinets, shelves, packing crates, barrels and other containers, Alan had built himself an elaborate, makeshift laboratory, divided into different sections: One corner was dedicated to food processing, with a large stove for boiling water for blanching, containers of salt, sugar, vinegar and alcohol which the colonists used as their key food preservatives, without the need for refrigeration, as well as several shelves stacked with recycled old jars, bottles and cans, sparkling clean from their recent wash, where they stored their winter supplies. In another corner was a still, fashioned out of old glass containers and hoses, from where they got their methanol and brandy from, as well as several fermentation kettles, with which Alan made his own homemade beer.
The rest of the lab was entirely dedicated to scientific research; a cabinet housing a stock of different chemicals he had scavenged, or otherwise made himself, among other lab supplies, and a massive worktable strewn with beakers, test tubes and even a microscope, where he'd synthesize some new formula, examine a specimen sample, and even teach Lucy basic science. A closed door led to an adjacent room, which was the machine shop, Derek's domain. And there was something else too…
Bending down, he inserted a key into the lock of a trapdoor built into the floorboards and opened it up, revealing a hidden compartment beneath, where a sealed, armoured briefcase, a camcorder, and a stash of papers lay hidden. This was one of the colony's closest guarded secrets – a secret which Alan had only shared fully, aside from his family, with the five rabbits that had come back with him to the 21st century: Hazel-rah, Bigwig, Fiver, Pipkin and Hawkbit. That secret was the long-lost legacy of mankind, left behind by a dying Dr Drake, just before the dawn of the dark age of Hemlock – the time in history when Man had lost his dominance on the Earth forever and the planet of the rabbits had began.
Now, almost eight centuries on, the legacy of mankind still remained a mystery. Civilisation was gone, destroyed in the asteroid Apocalypse of 2029; most of human society had also perished in the aftermath; but a few groups of pre-selected survivors had managed to take refuge underground, taking all of humanity's salvaged legacy, including art, records of knowledge, and genetic samples of the old biosphere with them for safekeeping, in hopes of rebuilding again someday. Hemlock's purge of the human race had ruined any chance of that ever transpiring; but the legacy itself had escaped his war of conquest, and apparently still remained hidden away out there somewhere.
Hemlock and his descendants had also known about the lost legacy and, for generations, sought to find it, in their endless quest for ultimate power and control over the planet. The arrival of Alan's group – namely Robbins - into this world had initially seemed like man's darkest secrets were destined to end up in the wrong hands after all, tipping the balance of power in favour of darkness and warfare forever, until Woundwort's defeat and the collapse of Efrafa had eliminated that grim prospect.
Over the years, Alan and his people had introduced many of the good things man had achieved to their rabbit friends, including farming, herbal medicine, use of tools and weapons, reading and writing, among other skills, greatly improving their lives. But that still wasn't good enough. With regards to themselves, they had done reasonably well; but what use was that if humanity would ultimately fade back into oblivion? Five human beings, no matter how resourceful, could not hope to rebuild an entire civilisation from scratch, which their rabbit friends might then continue on in the future. Simply put, they sought to find mankind's lost legacy.
Spreading out a geographic world atlas on his desk, Alan turned to the briefcase. Inside, were a dozen hand-written journals left behind by the same scientist whose work had made this beautiful world possible: Dr Cole Drake, Alan's old colleague and the last human of the Old World, who had watched his creation being born and then spreading out of control. Mankind had brought about its own destruction… But thanks to Alan's efforts of teaching his fellow colonists how to live in harmony with nature, both humans and intelligent rabbits had finally learned to coexist in peace, mending the breach between their species that Hemlock had started.
The journals detailed all the events brought about by Drake's experiments, including the rise of the Four Brothers, Hemlock waging war against the last remnants humanity, and eventually destroying it. From what Alan had been able to determine through his study of the journals, Drake, realising that mankind was doomed, had ordered all of humanity's treasures be shipped to secret safe havens around the world, where Hemlock couldn't seize them or destroy them.
Ever since discovering the journals on his colleague's mummified corpse, Alan spent hours every day burrowing through them. Unfortunately, Drake, no doubt fearing his journal might be found by the wrong person, had been real careful not to record the exact locations of any of those safe havens, or Crypts of Civilisation as he referred to them in his journals, leaving behind no useful leads as to where the legacy might be. The only thing Alan knew was that they were somewhere overseas, to 'the four corners of the earth', as one of the journal entries put it. In other words, they could be anywhere. The ultimate treasure hunt in history with no map to point the way, to put it mild.
The camcorder, which contained a copy of the video log from the derelict HAB, offered no useful leads on the Crypts either, only the history of Earth's destruction, the rise of the Four Brothers and the fall of mankind, told by England's last Prime Minister, the HAB's base commander, Dr Drake, and even El-ahrairah himself. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
After a while of playing the video log over and over again, cross-checking it with the journal entries, as he often did, hoping to find new clue, but without success, he decided to leave it for the day. This never-ending search for the lost legacy of humanity could wait another day; right now, he should focus on more pleasant things, like preparing to enjoy the festivities with his friends and family. Life couldn't get any better as it was…for the moment at least.
Author's note: Finally, we pick up again in the future. I actually toyed with many drafts on what Watership Down might look like after four years; in the original draft, Alan was the one with the heart condition and would only be a minor character who would die off early in the story; another draft had Lucy being the only human survivor left and living on her own with the rabbits. Finally, I decided to go with the traditional approach and bring back all the surviving characters from the first story, along with the latest generation. Enjoy and please review!
Happy Frith's Eve!