The peaceful life on Watership Down had taken quite a turn in the days following the discovery of the downed convict transport plane. With the realisation that there might be a dangerous enemy on the loose out there, security had been drastically tightened. Bigwig, who was determined to make the warren safe even if he had to turn it into a new Efrafa, had made sure new safety measures were put into effect and enforced at all times.
His Owsla had been divided into regular night patrols that stood watch outside every night without exception. Nobody was allowed to leave the warren unless it was absolutely necessary and not without an Owsla escort at all times. Vleflain had also been put on alert, with Groundsel enforcing even more restricting measures, many of which had not been used since the time of Woundwort, and with severe punishments for any violators. His Wide Patrols had been working together with Bigwig's Owsla, combing the surrounding countryside for any sign of the escaped convicts. Strangely enough, there was no sign of them anywhere.
The humans had likewise been busy. Ever since the Battle of Efrafa, it had never occurred to them that someday they might be living again in hiding. The Honeycomb was barely visible and not likely to be discovered without a deliberate search, as was Vleflain; their compound, on the other hand, was only built to keep them safe from elil, not for concealment. Built on the utmost peak of Watership Down, it could be spotted for miles in any direction, putting their safety at risk. Of course, the colonists were not willing to tear their home down just to stay hidden, so the whole place had to be concealed.
The windmill had been shut down and its white sails removed; then the structure had been covered with cottonwood branches, making it resemble an awkward-looking tree from afar. No fires were allowed, so the smoke wouldn't give them away, reducing the colonists' meals to cold servings of jam and pickled vegetables taken directly out of their larder. Even the windows had been fitted with blackout blinds for the night, making it look like something out of the Blitz. But the house and greenhouse were a different story. No matter how many cottonwood branches and leaves they strung up on them, they were still visible. So Alan had come up with the idea of using camouflage.
Although the idea was simple, having been used by the military for centuries, it soon became apparent it was going to be a lot trickier than they thought. The colonists had no camouflage paints, so instead they would have to make drapes to cover the whole house with, so that it would look like a patch of forest from afar. And, unfortunately, they didn't have any canvas with the right colouring for camouflage. So, they had to make a trip down to their good old hardware store – the HAB.
A week after their return from Vleflain, the five colonists and several of the rabbits, including Stonecrop, who had volunteered to help, found themselves making their way down to the derelict, subterranean compound, to look for materials. Although the place had been stripped of all its supplies and equipment long ago, the colonists still occasionally found leftover bits of junk they could use, making it a valuable mine of resources.
Using a makeshift elevator fashioned out of their old balloon basket, with a system of cables and pulleys and operated by a manual winch, they made their way down the shaft. Getting off on Level 2, they made their way into a spacious garage area, where military vehicles were once kept. The vehicles were of course all gone, except for two broken-down junkers, which the colonists had cannibalized for parts for their wood-gas-powered motortrike. This spacious area made a good assembly point and workshop, from where the colonists conducted all their scavenging operations around the HAB.
Sam stared in awe at the large underground facility which had centuries ago served as a refuge for the last remnants of mankind, who had hoped to ride out the apocalypse down here. Although the colonists regularly probed the facility for salvage, they still regarded it as a historical site of sorts, taking great care not to damage it, including not disturbing Dr Drake's old quarters, which Alan kept tidy and preserved to this day, in memory of his colleague.
They gathered around a makeshift table, where Alan had spread out an old set of plans of the facility. Several sections, including most of the engineering section down on Level 4 were crossed out in red. Those sections, Derek explained to Sam were rendered inaccessible after being flooded from the underground river that had breached the facility four years back. Lacking the equipment to drain the water and make repairs, they had been forced to seal off those areas completely, to protect the facility from decay caused by all the humidity building up in the air. Even now, the smell of mildew still lingered about. Other sections, like the reactor room, were also strictly off-limits, due to the presence of leftover nuclear waste stored in sealed barrels. But as long as they kept clear of those areas, there was no danger.
"All right, lads, you know the drill," said Alan, "Today's search is for any kind of camouflaging materials. Remember, always stay within sight of the rest of your group, keep your flashlights and radios handy, and stay out of the restricted areas. You hear me, Lucy?" he asked his daughter, who had been made to skip her Junior Owsla exercises again today to help with the salvage, much to her dismay. Alan remembered how he'd caught her once diving into one of the flooded sections, after which he'd forbid her from coming down here alone.
Hotdog passed round flashlights, walkie-talkies and battered rucksacks, in which they would cart back their findings. Then Alan assigned groups and the areas they were to cover, "All right. Josie, Hazel, Fiver, and I will take the social areas and living quarters; Deke, you, Hotdog, Bigwig, Dandelion, Strawberry and Hawkbit check the storerooms. There's got to be something there in camouflage colours we can use. Also, we're going to need a sewing machine to make the drapes." He turned to Sam, who was removing her jacket and putting on a frayed work-shirt Derek had given her, realising just how dirty this job was going to be.
"Sam, you, Lucy, Pipkin and Stonecrop can search the museum, see if you can find one. We rendezvous back here in two hours. Chop-chop!"
The groups set off, each group headed to their designated search area. The facility was of course long dead, but some emergency lights were still functioning in a few service areas, running off the last working radioisotope generator. Alan and his party followed a familiar route down dim, dusty corridors and into the living quarters.
The HAB's original occupants had awful little privacy, for their living quarters consisted of just two massive dormitories, one for the women, and the other for the men, each housing dozens and dozens of double bunks. Only VIPs and high-ranking personnel were allowed private quarters. Alan called them all to order and showed them a strip of camouflage-coloured gaffer tape – the only sample of camouflage material he had.
"All right, this is what we're looking for – plastic, fabric, metal, anything that's painted like this and is plentiful, I repeat plentiful, will do."
For the next two hours, they turned the derelict dormitory inside out, opening up lockers and pulling the dusty bedclothes off the bunks, for which they were soon rewarded with a shower of dust. The blankets were all lime-green; a good colour, but not enough to completely blend in with the environment. They could try painting them with black stripes using soot to make them easier to blend in with the landscape, but it still wouldn't be perfect.
Then, going through another dormitory where the HAB's military personnel lodged, they finally struck gold when they found several leftover military uniforms still hanging in their long-dead owners' lockers. When Drake's people had evacuated, they hadn't bothered to take with them the personal belongings of those who had already died, leaving everything behind. Worn out and useless for wearing, these old garments could be cut up and sawn into camouflage drapes, to conceal their compound with.
Gathering up all the blankets and clothes they could carry, they brought everything back to the garage. Derek and Hotdog's party had also returned with their own stash of old clothes, as well as several square feet of camouflage canvas they'd found, once used for covering packing crates in the storerooms. With all this material, they could now camouflage every inch of their compound. Today's haul had paid off good.
As they took a break for lunch, Derek surprised them all with something else he'd found: several sealed food cans, probably from the galley. Their labels had peeled off, so they had no way of knowing what their contents were until they'd opened them. Findings such as these, with a little taste of the 21st century, were rare, and a real treat whenever found.
"Bet you a roll of toilet paper it's caviar," said Derek, passing them around, one each. Even the rabbits, who couldn't be bothered to return above ground for silflay, had decided to join in the underground picnic. Some of them had tried human foods before and actually found them to be quite delectable, as long as they were strictly vegetarian variants.
"Stuff your caviar, I'd go for a plate of baked beans any day," said Hotdog, who really missed having Heinz' Baked Beans with his breakfast. They opened up the cans.
"Oh, fantastic," muttered Alan in disgust, as they all laid eyes on the contents of the cans. It wasn't exactly caviar and it wasn't baked beans either.
"Dog food. Oh, my God," groaned Josie, pushing her can away. All of the cans were nothing but foul-smelling dog meat, probably Pedigree Chum, hardly appetizing for humans or rabbits. But that wasn't what really put them off. Alan, being an experienced survivalist, knew that dog food, although disgusting, was harmless and could be consumed by humans. But as he brought a spoonful up to his mouth, he realised the meat was in fact alive – an infestation of white maggots could be seen burrowing around in it. Gagging, he dropped the spoon. There was no way they could eat this crap without getting food poisoning.
Deciding to skip lunch altogether, the colonists turned to gather up their salvage and return above ground. Suddenly, Alan realised Sam's party hadn't returned yet. As he leaned over a worktable for his radio, to tell them to hurry up, he accidentally knocked Sam's jacket to the floor. Cursing his clumsiness, he reached down to pick it up and dust it off, when he noticed something that had fallen out of the pocket: a pair of photographs wrapped in cellophane.
Although normally a gentleman, who wouldn't dare touch a lady's belongings without permission, his curiosity got the better of him. He looked at the photographs. One showed Sam as a toddler, a real sweet one too in Alan's opinion, holding her mother's hand. Her father, he noticed, held the hand of a second infant, in this case a boy, as the family posed for the camera.
Funny, he thought, I didn't know Sam had a brother... Turning to look at the second photograph, he frowned, realising it was one of his own photographs, showing him with Derek, Hotdog and Fields – the man who would later become Robbins – during their years at the orphanage, which used to hang on the wall of his living room back in his old London home. What did Sam want this for?
What the bloody hell...?
Suddenly, studying the two pictures, he happened to glance at Fields; the scrawny teenager in the photograph bore a curious resemblance to the infant in Sam's father's arms. Comparing the two, Alan felt his heart almost jump into his lungs as he realised they were in fact the same person! But that's impossible... But, no, he of all people could recognize his old-friend-turned nemesis anywhere, at any age. Suddenly, it all clicked together – Sam withholding her surname and all those strange questions she'd been asking about Robbins, stemmed from the fact that the two of them were in fact related.
Son of a bitch, she's his sister. And we... Oh, my God! Suddenly, he remembered, Lucy and Pipkin were all alone with her. He'd unknowingly left his daughter, whom he'd already lost once, and his adoptive son with the sister of his wife's murderer! Yelling a curse that made everyone jump, he turned and broke into a run down the corridor, towards the museum.
"What the hell's the matter with you, Al?" called Derek, but Alan didn't hear him they only thing his brain could process right now was the unthinkable realisation that Sam Fields was none other than Russell Robbins' sister. The nightmare his long-dead nemesis had put him through in his attempt to take all of his beloved ones away from him one by one resurfaced, almost as if Robbins had returned from his grave to haunt him. Where had she come from? What was she doing here? Was she sent here to finish her brother's dirty work? If something had happened to Lucy... Then, he suddenly found himself tackled and pinned to the floor by Bigwig.
"What the bloody Inle is the matter with you, chum?" demanded the burly Owsla veteran, "Why have you suddenly gone berserk?" The initial shock of his discovery wearing off, Alan found his voice.
"Get the hell off of me, you cretin!" he shouted, struggling to get to his feet again, "Lucy's all alone with her! Get it? She's his bloody sister! You hear me? Sam is Robbins' sister!" he shouted in Bigwig's face. For a split second, Bigwig was petrified; then, realising what Alan had just said, he uttered his own mighty battle roar and they both broke into a run, hoping they weren't too late...
Meanwhile, Sam, Lucy, Pipkin and Stonecrop were busy searching the HAB's museum for a sewing machine. Most of the museum's glass display cabinets were empty, nothing of great cultural or historical value remaining. Only a few valueless exhibits of recent history were left, sitting on dusty shelves around the museum. A cabinet of old technological exhibits caught their eye.
Wiping some dust off the glass, they looked at the exhibits on the shelves: an original 1985 Microsoft desktop computer, a VHS, a radio, and some early 1950's household items, including an old Singer treadle sewing machine on wheels. Voila!
The cabinet was locked, so Lucy picked up an old fire axe from a rack and swung it at the glass, which shattered into a million pieces. Together, the two girls pulled the sewing machine out of its cabinet and rolled it out into the aisle. The thing seemed almost in pristine condition after all these years, but the pulley and pedals were frozen stiff from long-term disuse. Her Uncle Derek would have to take the whole thing apart and lubricate every single moving part of the machine before they could get it working again. Also, they would need tailoring scissors to cut the fabric into shape.
"Over there, up on that shelf!" called Stonecrop, gesturing at a large pair of 19th century rusted barber's scissors sitting on another shelf, on the top of the display cabinet. Although not perfect, at least they would cut through rough fabric faster that the tiny scissors from their medical kits. With Stonecrop standing in an upright position, resting his forepaws against the shelves, Pipkin scampered up onto his broad shoulders, reaching for the scissors.
Stretching up as high as he could reach, Pipkin nudged the scissors, knocking them off their stand and sending them falling to the floor. Sam picked them up and turned to pass them to Lucy, who was busy dusting their new sewing machine clean with a rag. At that moment, a nearby door burst open and all hell broke loose...
Alan and Bigwig raced down the service stairs, three at a time, heading for a fire escape door, which they knew was the quickest way to the museum. After four years of exploring, they knew their way around the HAB pretty well. Alan grabbed for the handle but the door was locked from the inside.
"Stand aside!" Bigwig yelled and, backing away against the wall, he broke into a run, slamming headfirst into the door like a furry battering ram, causing it to break clean off its hinges and fall flat on the floor. Before the crash of the door had even subsided, the pair had burst into the room. They could see Sam up ahead – holding a long pair of razor-sharp scissors to Lucy's turned back! It was extremely lucky that Alan didn't happen to be carrying a gun at that particular moment, otherwise he'd have shot her dead right there and then.
"Young one, look out...!"
"Get away from that woman, Lucy...!"
Before Sam knew what was happening, she was set upon by Alan, his strong hand grasping her wrist from where she held the scissors, the other locking in an iron grip around her throat, almost chocking the life out of her. In one swift move, he painfully twisted her wrist, causing her to drop the scissors, but didn't loosen his grip on her throat, his face a mask of utmost fury.
"Don't even think about it, you sly little wretch!" he growled, anger and hate he hadn't felt since his final confrontation with Robbins years ago, thundering through him, "And to think I trusted you!" Before Sam could ask what he was talking about, or rather beg for him to loosen his grip because she couldn't breathe, she found herself knocked to the floor by Bigwig, who pinned her down with his massive weight. His expression too, was furious and murderous.
"I've got her, Alan. Get Lucy and Pipkin away!" he called, before turning to glare down at Sam, looking ready to kill, "One false move and I'll rip your throat out!"
"Let me go, you're squashing me!"
Alan grabbed the bewildered Lucy and Pipkin and pulled them away from Sam, almost as if afraid that woman was about to start carving them both to death with the scissors. "My God, are you two okay?"
"Dad, what are you doing? Let me go!" cried Lucy, wondering if this was some wild joke, or whether some madness had gotten into her father's head. But she was soon to find out it was far, far worse than that.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing? Get the hell off my mother!" bellowed Stonecrop angrily, lunging at Bigwig and biting him hard on the ear. Bigwig yelled with pain, falling off of Sam, letting her breathe. Before he could lunge at Stonecrop too however, the scuffle was broken up by Hazel, who came running in, followed by the others.
"What in the name of Frith is going on in here?!" he shouted, "Stop it at once, all of you!" Once tensions had calmed down somewhat, Hazel angrily reprimanded them for apparently assaulting one of their own people unprovoked.
"What's the idea of acting like a pair of hooligan hlessil?" he demanded, "Explain yourselves, both of you!"
Alan, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, pointed at Sam. His expression was cold and unrepentant, "Hazel, allow me to introduce you to Sam Fields – our old friend Robbins' sister!" There was instant shocked silence, as everyone turned to stare in disbelief at poor Sam, who felt tears appear in her eyes. Like Santon had warned her, her true identity coming out would be catastrophic. And now, the damage was done.
Stonecrop slowly approached his stepmother, unwilling to believe what he'd just heard. So this was what that guy Santon had told her months ago, which she wouldn't share with him? No, it had to be some bad mistake, a misunderstanding. "Is this true, Sam?" Sam slowly nodded, "Yes, Stonecrop, I'm afraid it is. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way..."
That evening, the humans gathered with Hazel, Bigwig, his entire Owsla and Captain Campion, who had been summoned over from Vleflain, to discuss this new issue. After returning from the HAB a few hours ago, they'd wasted no time in telling the rest of the warren about who Sam really was. Their reactions too had been a mixture of shock and outrage, all of them demanding that something be done about Sam at once.
"Completely unbelievable," muttered Campion, as the Watershipers filled him in with the details, "And I fully agree with Bigwig. Something needs to be done about her."
"She's been lying to us all along!" put in Hawkbit angrily, "If you ask me, the enemy sent her here as a spy, to finish Robbins' dirty work. What better motive than to avenge her dear brother by bringing trouble on us all?"
"I reckon we should get rid of her right now," said Strawberry darkly, thinking of Nildrohein, who had died at the hands of Robbins, "We have no need for creatures who try and deceive us!" Most of those present also muttered their firm agreements. As far as they were concerned, Sam had no place here. The only one who seemed to think otherwise was Derek.
"Before we start turning into some kind of mob, why don't you idiots all stop for a moment and think. What if Sam is telling the truth, that she had no idea who her brother really was? Hell, you're all making her out to be some monster or rabid rat! This is not what this community stands for! We're supposed to be a peaceful, civilised society. If we start down that road, where do we draw the line?"
"I think the line should be pretty clear to you, chum," retorted Bigwig reproachfully, "Anything and anyone associated with Robbins has no place on Watership Down, including his next of kin. That female ithe has to go, now!"
"And where exactly to you propose we take her?" demanded Josie. Although she, like the others, had been horrified to learn of Sam's real identity, she dreaded what they might be forced to do with her now, "We can't just chuck her out into the wilderness. That would be murder!"
"It's either that, or we will have no choice but to kill her ourselves," said Bigwig darkly. Derek was outraged.
"I can't believe what I'm hearing!" he shouted, "Have you ungrateful bastards forgotten, Drake sent her here to warn us of those convicts out there? She had his letter...!"
"Yes, a letter that doesn't even exist!" retorted Hotdog, "What, you think we're stupid enough to fall for such a bluff, Deke?"
"My Uncle once made the mistake of taking one lying rabbit's word and it led to the destruction of Sandleford," said Silver, remembering how his old warren had been destroyed because the Threarah had refused to listen to Alan's warning, just because he was a human, "I'm not about to make the same mistake!"
"There has been no sighting of those so-called convicts anywhere," Holly also put in, "For all we know, she's been the real enemy from the start!"
"And what about Stonecrop?" asked Fiver, who couldn't help but feel a tad bit sorry for the young rabbit. To learn that his stepmother was related to their warren's second worst enemy after General Woundwort must have been really hard for him.
"As much as I hate to say this, Fiver, I don't think he'll ever be able to fit in here," said Hazel, feeling repulsed with himself for saying it, even though, unfortunately, it was the harsh reality about Stonecrop. Over the past few months he'd made no progress in adapting to the ways of the rabbits and by now it seemed unlikely he ever would.
"That young bucko is nothing but a lost cause, Hazel," said Bigwig gruffly, "The fact that he insists on defending Sam is only going to make things worse for him. Frankly, we'd be far better off without them both."
"So you're just going to cast them out there for the elil to pick off?" gasped Pipkin. He too, having a heart of gold, was one of the few who still believed they ought to at least give Sam a chance. "Please, Hazel-rah! You can't do this!"
Hazel considered; although the safety of the warren was his sole responsibility, he didn't want to condemn Sam and Stonecrop to certain death by sending them away. Campion had also made it clear that Groundsel wouldn't take them in once he learned of Sam's relation to the same evil human who'd led Efrafa to destruction. And they couldn't exactly send them back to the 21st century anymore either. They were inevitably faced with a terrible dilemma...
While the meeting to decide on her fate was in progress, Sam was left locked in her room, with only Stonecrop for company. From being a welcomed guest, with a promising future ahead of her, suddenly she had been reduced to a walking parasite on this entire community, inspiring fear and hate from everyone around her. Her mistake by leaving those incriminating photographs lying around had probably ruined everything for her.
Although the Watershipers at least had had the decency not to lynch her on sight, Sam now really feared for her safety. The memory of the hostile looks on the rabbits' faces when they'd learned of her identity was one she wouldn't forget anytime soon. Many of the bucks had growled and spat at her, menacing her without end, while the does drew away from her, shielding their youngsters from her gaze. Even her fellow humans, with the possible exception of Derek, were cold and distant. Not that she blamed them really.
After hearing of all the atrocities her brother had committed against Alan and his friends, both here and back in the 21st century, and of all those people he'd murdered, she felt repulsed at the thought that that monster was in fact her long-lost sibling, whom she'd spent years trying to track down. Come to think about it, she now realised it had been he who'd done her parents in all those years ago. Although Inspector Santon and Dr Drake had confided the truth in her before she'd left, she'd refused to believe it was true until she'd seen for herself the legacy Robbins had left behind. Her blood relation to that man made her feel so low, like some lethal disease-carrier.
Although, deep down, she'd known her secret was bound to come out soon or later, the sheer injustice of it all was overwhelming. She had never wronged a living soul in her life and now she was being treated like a common criminal. It was so damn unfair! Maybe she should have ignored Santon's advice and confessed the truth to Alan the night she'd arrived. And the real question now was where did this leave her?
Would they just send her back to where she came from? Frankly, she couldn't see how they could manage that; her glider was trashed and, according to Dr Drake's sources, the time-warp wasn't even due to open again for another eight or nine months. Or would they just cast her out there to fend for herself? She'd rather ask to be shot, than be left for one of those wild beasts of the future to find her. Although Derek had reassured her that humanitarian laws and the Geneva Conventions still remained in full force to this day, Alan having personally introduced them to the rabbits, so they wouldn't hurt her unless she was a threat, technically that was precisely what she was in everyone's eyes. And, more importantly, what would become of Stonecrop now?
Her adoptive son, although initially shocked like everyone else, had loyally stuck by her side, refusing to think ill of his stepmother. He had even gotten into an ugly swearing match with a few of the rabbits when they'd called her a spy and a murderess, which might have turned into an ugly fight if the adults hadn't intervened. Sam felt so sorry for him; her presence was only adding to his unpopularity, making him even less keen on staying here.
At that moment, a key turned in the lock and the door opened. Derek entered, his expression, something between that of someone utterly relieved and someone utterly disappointed. Did this mean the Watership leaders had decided on their verdict? He took a seat in a chair opposite Sam's bed. Stonecrop looked at him.
"Well?"
"The good news is they've decided to let you stay, Sam," he said, momentarily brightening up hers and Stonecrop's spirits. Unfortunately, he also had some bad news.
"If you wish to remain here until the time warp reopens next winter, then they'll have to be certain restrictions," he told her, "They'll be keeping a close watch on you and they'll be consequences if you step out of line. I'm sorry, this was the best I could do for you..."
After several hours of heated debating, Derek had finally succeeded in persuading the others to relent and let Sam stay. However, mostly thanks to Bigwig's insistence on taking no chances, the Watershipers had set a long string of rules and restrictions Sam was expected to follow from here on. First, she was strictly barred from any guns, even pocketknives, as well as from any communication equipment; she was not allowed to talk or go near any of the youngsters, except for Stonecrop. Also, she wasn't to leave the house without an escort, never to leave the boundaries of the Down, and would always be confined to quarters after dark. Sam couldn't help but sigh; her life sure wouldn't be pleasant from here on, to say the least. Stonecrop was furious.
"What, you wankers will have my mother living like some common riff-raff on probation?" he yelled, "Why, I have a good mind to...!"
"Stonecrop, there is no need for threats or bad language," Sam reprimanded her stepson sternly. The last thing they needed now was for Stonecrop's short-temperedness to get the better of him and start a fight, "And I believe it's past your bedtime."
After Stonecrop had nuzzled his mother goodnight and trotted off to return to the Honeycomb, Derek turned to Sam.
"If it makes you feel any better, I believe you, Sam," he told her, taking her hand, "I'm sure Alan and the others will come round eventually. It's just the memory of the terrors your br-... Robbins caused us that's scared them so much."
"What did Alan say about you defending me?" asked Sam, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice. Her neck and wrist were still sore from where Alan had held her earlier, thinking she'd been trying to stab Lucy. At this, Derek actually forced a smile.
"Actually, he was more neutral than anything," he said, "In fact, he backed me up – at least about not throwing you out like Bigwig wanted." But Sam didn't know what to make of this. What kind of chance did she have of regaining that man's trust, when her own brother had murdered his wife, held his daughter imprisoned for a whole year, and killed so many of his rabbit friends? Any chance at reconciliation seemed unthinkable.
Stonecrop scurried back to the Honeycomb, almost as if in a trance. He sure hoped nobody was still up and about; he couldn't bear the thought of facing more of those accusing faces again tonight. At least, Little Threar, with whom he shared a burrow, wasn't the type to hassle him, so hopefully he could get as many hours of blissful sleep as possible, tune this whole madness out. But as fate would have it, Sam's troubles were not only hers.
Just as he reached the entrance to the Honeycomb, a familiar figure, the last rabbit he wanted to see tonight, blocked his way, "Just where do you think you're going, loser?"
"I'm on my way to bed, to get some shuteye. Just get out of my way... Ah!" Stonecrop cried out loud, when suddenly, without warning, Sandwort furiously cuffed him across the face for backtalking him. His sharp claws cut through Stonecrop's fur, narrowly missing his eye, and drawing blood, "What did you do that for?"
"Now, you get this straight, you pathetic waste of a rabbit," Sandwort growled in his bleeding face. Unlike his usual bullying and taunting attacks, Sandwort was now outright vicious, almost murderous, scaring poor Stonecrop stiff. "Now that I know who your wretched mother really is, you've outlived your welcome, if there ever was one. Now get out!" When Stonecrop didn't move, Sandwort glared into his eyes.
"If I ever catch you near this warren again, I'll kill you! You and your ithe-mother can go back to wherever you came from! And while you're at it, remember this: No matter what anyone tells you, or no matter how hard you try, you'll never fit in – not here, not anywhere," he sneered maliciously, "You're nothing but an outcast, without roots, without any real family and without any identity. And you'll always be so till the day you die! You're nothing, Stonecrop! You hear me? Nothing!"
Stonecrop felt tears appear in his eyes, Sandwort's cruel words tearing through his heart like a red-hot knife. He was torn between lunging at Sandwort and ripping him apart or just swallowing his humiliation and moving on without making a scene. Finally, he chose the latter and scurried away, feeling so hurt and alone. His spirit was crushed. Sandwort was right; he didn't belong anywhere, nor would he ever find his place in the world. Feeling distraught, he turned and fled into the night...
Elsewhere, Alan sat by himself, lost in thought. Ever since defeating Robbins four years ago, he'd been content with the thought that he and his family were now safe and could live in this new world without fear. But now, suddenly, that safety seemed jeopardized with the arrival of Sam. Who knew what intentions that woman might have, or whom she might be working for? If they let their guard down, they might wake up one morning to find someone kidnapped or murdered, or find she'd led the enemy straight to their doorstep, to destroy them. No, it had been the right thing to do, keeping her confined.
Both Lucy and Pipkin had strongly protested, insisting that Sam could be trusted, for which they had been furiously reprimanded by Bigwig. As far as he was concerned, Sam was no different from her dead brother, simply biding her time until she had the perfect opportunity to strike. Or the other hand, Alan couldn't help but wonder, what if Derek was right? Maybe Sam was nothing like Robbins? He snorted; the only way they could find out for certain would be if they had that supposed letter Drake had given her, which Sam didn't have. Without proof, her story could easily be just a lot of hot air... No, he thought, he couldn't take the chance of losing Lucy or any of his beloved ones, again.
True to humanitarian law, they would let Sam stay, feed her, shelter her, but with enough restrictions to ensure everyone's safety. And once the time warp opened again in a few months, they'd send her back to where she belonged and then it would thankfully all be over. It didn't get any more humane than that...
Author's notes: As usual, my apologies for the delay, but unfortunately work and real life come first. Hopefully, I should be able to submit the next chapter by the beginning of summer. I'm working on a couple of ideas for some to prove her innocence; however, I could use some suggestions that stick to canon. Until next time then! Enjoy and please review!