Sandwort ran as fast as his hind legs would carry him towards the Honeycomb. The warren was about to be attacked unawares by those ithel thugs and he had to warn the Owsla! How ironic, he thought. Not so long ago, he would have pictured himself proudly leading the Junior Owsla to battle against those marauders and becoming a real warrior hero. Yet, in an unexpected twist of fate, he, of all rabbits, was now the one delivering the timely warning that might save their lives. Maybe there was a chance of redeeming himself after all?

Dashing down the entrance run, he made his way to the burrows, stamping and bellowing at the top of his lungs.

"Wake up! We're under attack! Wake up now!"

The heads of sleepy rabbits emerged from their burrows, staring irritably back at Sandwort, wondering if he'd gone moon mad.

"What's all this racket in the middle of the night?" groaned Hawkbit, annoyed at being arisen from his beauty sleep, "Another of Bigwig's Owsla drills?"

At that moment, Hyzenthlay appeared, alerted by Sandwort's shouting. With Hazel away, she was now acting Chief Rabbit and, unbeknownst to her, was about to have her leadership skills put to the test in their darkest hour.

"What in Frith's name is going on here?" she demanded, "What's the meaning of this, Sandwort?" Behind her, Primrose and her sisters emerged from their burrow, the former glaring at the sight of the panting Sandwort, whom she hoped never to see again.

"What does he want, marli?" Hyzenthlay ignored her daughter and turned back to Sandwort. Whatever was going on, she could tell this was serious.

"What's going on, Sandwort?" she asked him again, "Well?"

"It's the invaders, Hyzenthlay-rah! They're here!" cried Sandwort, finally getting his breath back, "The night patrol's been slaughtered! Uncle Alan's home's under attack and now they're closing in on us!" That pretty much got the message across. Several rabbits gasped.

Bigwig was sleeping soundly in his burrow. Being a single rabbit, he valued his privacy and never took kindly to others barging in, especially when he was sleeping. Suddenly, Sandwort burst into the burrow, bellowing in Bigwig's ear.

"Bigwig! Bigwig, wake up!" Bigwig jumped, banging his head on the burrow ceiling in the process.

"What the bloody Inle's going on?!" he shouted, glaring daggers at Sandwort for his rude entrance, "Haven't you learned to announce yourself before entering a private burrow?" If this was another of Sandwort's theatrics, protesting his expulsion from the Owsla, he thought, he'd pummel the young duffer into next season!

"It's an attack, Bigwig!" interrupted Sandwort urgently, "It's the marauders! We're being besieged!" Bigwig froze, realising what Sandwort had just said. Like lightning, he got to his feet.

"Are you sure it's the invaders? Absolutely?" Sandwort nodded shakily. "All right, go get your mother and sisters and then help the Junior Owsla in the evacuation. Go!"

"Wait, I want to help fight," Sandwort tried protesting, "Lucy's out there, all alone..." But Bigwig didn't have time for a debate.

"Your job is to get your mother and sisters to safety right now!" he barked back at Sandwort, "Now shut up and get moving! That's an order!" For the first time in his life, Sandwort didn't dare question a direct order. He tore off, heading for Holly and Clover's burrow.

Bigwig wasted no time. Like all Owsla veterans, he knew the emergency protocol in the event of a siege, which he and Alan had drawn up but had never had to use until tonight. He hurried up to the Honeycomb where his friends had gathered.

"Owsla, off your lazy tails at once and get into attack formation!" he ordered, "Junior Owsla, arouse all the does and non-combatants and get them down below to the safety point! Move it, you duffers, move it!" He turned to Forest, "Pass the word to your rabbits to check all the burrows and make sure everyone is accounted for. And nobody emerges above ground until we give the all-clear, understood? Go!"

Without another word, he hurried above ground, to mobilize his Owsla before it was too late. Forest, still new to his duties as Captain of the Junior Owsla, but disciplined enough to promptly follow orders from a senior officer, followed suit. The Junior Owsla split up, checking all the burrows, making sure everyone was aroused and ordering them to move to the back burrow where the shaft was.

Clover was sleeping peacefully in her and Holly's burrow, which they shared with their now nearly-grown children, who were still young and thus lacking mates and kittens of their own. Only their eldest son no longer slept here, having chosen to distance himself from the rest of the family, much to their chagrin.

"Marli! Marli, wake up!" cried Sandwort, as he burst into the burrow. Clover awoke with a start, surprised to see her son here, if not hopeful that perhaps he'd finally come round. His brother and sisters however weren't too pleased to see him.

"What do you want?" asked Pimpernel indignantly. Like his father, he didn't believe Sandwort deserved their pity, "Come to break mother's heart again? You're a disgrace!" Melsa and Crowla glared at their brother.

"You made poor marli cry, you selfish wretch!" spat Crowla, who was also a good friend of Primrose's, "How dare you show your face here?!" Although their bitter words stung Sandwort badly, this was not the time for apologies or reconciliations.

"We have to go now!" he said urgently, "The enemy's coming. We're all in terrible danger!" His siblings fell silent, as fear and shock swept over them. With their father not here to protect them, they felt lost.

"Sandwort, get Mother and our sisters to safety," said Pimpernel, sitting up. As an Owsla cadet, he knew he had to report to Bigwig immediately. Sandwort was about to protest again, desperate for a chance to be allowed to help in the fight (or rather to go back for Lucy), but that was not to be the case.

"Please, do what your brother says, Sandwort," Clover urged him, "Right now, your sisters need you more than the Owsla!"

Remembering his duty to his mother and sisters, something he'd never given much thought until now, Sandwort reluctantly led them over to the shaft, where the rest of the Watership does and the youngest of the bucks had been hurriedly ushered by the Junior Owsla. The balloon basket, which served as their makeshift elevator leading down to the HAB, stood waiting, ready to move them below, where they'd be out of reach from the threatening marauders.

Unfortunately, none of them had taken into consideration the fact that the elevator could only be operated by human hand. With none of their human friends around to man the pulleys, they were stuck.

"Hraka!" cursed Nelthilta, "Why do those stupid, fat-headed humans always have to build things only they can use? Don't they know we might need them too?"

"Maybe you can ask Prince Rainbow to transform your paws into hands then, why don't you, Nelthilta?" suggested Bluebell. Unfortunately, his joking around didn't help things in the slightest. Several rabbits glared at him to shut up. At that moment, the sounds of Bigwig's roaring, followed by the terrifying thundering noises of human firesticks were heard above ground. The Owsla were engaged in the fight.

"I'm scared," muttered Bluebella fearfully, recoiling at the sounds of a wild battle raging outside. Violet moved to comfort her daughter, muttering words of encouragement. Others however weren't just going to sit there until it was too late.

Stonecrop, having grown up in the human world and therefore familiar with human machinery, studied the pulley. He could see the end of the rope was tied to a tree-root on the edge of the shaft. If they could just undo it, maybe they could lower the elevator down themselves.

"Give me a hand here!"

Hurrying over, he tried to loosen the knot with his teeth. It was too tight. Several other rabbits pitched in, but the rope wouldn't come loose. At that moment, the sound of another gunshot was heard, followed by the death cry of some unfortunate rabbit falling to the enemy. The does all gasped in terror.

Losing it completely, a panicking Nelthilta darted forward and began frantically gnawing through the rope, trying to cut it loose. Of course that was the last thing she wanted to do, because unless someone was holding onto the rope, it would only send the elevator in a freefall down the shaft. Thithuthinnang was the first to notice her.

"No, Nelthilta, don't! Stop her...!" But it was too late.

Suddenly, the rope gave way. Without the counter-weight of an operator, it unwound itself from the pulley, sending the basket plummeting down the shaft, taking several rabbits that happened to be onboard at the time with it. The terrified screams of Stonecrop, Primrose, Bluebell and Clover echoed up the shaft as they fell. Losing her footing, Hyzenthlay would have gone over the side as well, to certain death, only to be saved in the nick of time by Thithuthinnang and Vilthuril. With a loud crash, the basket hit the bottom of the shaft.

The padded interior of the basket saved its occupants from serious injury. But the basket itself was completely trashed, reduced to a pile of shredded weaving material, rope and splintered wood. Primrose shakily got to her feet, frantically looking around her. Clover and Bluebell lay nearby, both looking battered and bruised, but otherwise unharmed. But where was her beloved Stonecrop?

"Help me!"

Hearing his pained voice, Stonecrop hurried over. She found him pinned beneath a collapsed chunk of the basket's side, with the severed, coiled-up ropes piled on top of it, almost squashing him flat. Primrose tried shifting the wreckage, but it was too heavy for her.

"Hold on, Stonecrop! We'll get you out!" She turned to the others, "Help me here! Quick, he can't breathe!"

Putting their backs into it, they finally managed to heave the wreckage off of Stonecrop, just enough for Primrose to pull him out. Stonecrop collapsed, breathing deeply, wondering if any ribs were broken. Primrose knelt beside him with concern, nuzzling him with relief.

"Thank you, Primrose," he muttered sheepishly, "For a moment there I thought I was a goner." Primrose smiled warmly.

"Just returning the favour," she said, nuzzling him again. The voices from above snapped them back to reality. Looking up, they could just make out the rest of their friends, who had unintentionally been left behind looking down at them.

"Marli!" called Melsa's voice down to her mother, "Talk to me! Are you all right?"

"Yes, we're all fine," Clover called back, "Everyone's fine..." She left it hanging. The four of them were safe all right; but what about all the others?

Up top, the remaining rabbits stared down the shaft where their ride had vanished. Although luckily none of their friends had been hurt, the damage had been done. With the pulley destroyed, there was no way of getting the elevator back up for more. And the worst part was, only four of them had made it to the safety point. The rest of them were trapped, cornered in their own warren, with nowhere to run. They all glared furiously at Nelthilta for her recklessness.

"You stupid, brainless doe!" Crowfoot roared in anger, "You've killed us all!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't know...," wept Nelthilta, realising her mistake, "I'm so sorry!" Crowfoot furiously moved to strike her, but Hyzenthlay stopped him.

"This isn't going to help us now, Crowfoot," she said firmly, "Control yourself! And not another word from you," she added to Nelthilta, who was still muttering her snivelling apologies. Although she never lost her temper with anyone, the sincere disappointment in her voice made poor Nelthilta even more upset. But it was too late to be crying over spoilt carrots now.

"We make our stand here," announced Hyzenthlay, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt, "We risked everything for freedom once and we're not going to let ourselves be taken without a fight!" Although afraid, inspired by her courage, the does and youngsters all muttered their firm agreements.

With Bluebell, the only remaining senior Owsla rabbit among them, shouting instructions from below, the Junior Owsla got into pairs and took up positions inside the side burrows. The enemy was bound to come charging down the main run where the does were hiding, they reasoned, and when they did, they would launch a surprise counter-attack. Although they had neither the strength nor the experience of a senior Owsla, if they could take the marauders by surprise, they just might force them back.

Following Bluebell's instructions, the Junior Owsla, as well as Hyzenthlay and Thithuthinnang, who'd insisted on helping them fight, took up their positions, hoping for the best. In the confusion however, nobody had noticed Sandwort slip away...

Bigwig led his Owsla, consisting of himself, Silver, Blackberry, Hawkbit, Dandelion, Strawberry, Fiver, as well as his new recruits Acorn, Speedwell, Pimpernel and Buckthorn Jr above ground. The sight that greeted them outside made the Watershippers freeze in their tracks.

A small army of ithel marauders, more than double their number and armed to the teeth to boot, had surrounded the warren, ready to attack. In the distance, they could see Alan's home, where the invaders had already struck, burning, the flames turning the night sky red. And standing between them and the warren, all alone, was Hazel, who had made it back in the nick of time to intercept the invaders single-handedly. No sign of Holly anywhere. The Watershippers thought their Chief had surely gone mad.

Undeterred, Bigwig quickly ordered his Owsla to take up positions, barring the way to the enemy, while he dutifully took up his own position over by Hazel's side. But this was a battle they could never hope to win. Where were Alan and the others when they needed them the most?

The rabbits stared fearlessly back at the enemy, knowing full well the odds were not in their favour. But, whatever happened, the Watershippers would never go out as cowards. If they had to fight to the death, then so be it. Hazel made eye contact with one ithe, Schiller, whom he could tell was the leader of this rabble.

"I'm Hazel-rah, Chief Rabbit of this warren," he said calmly, "What do you want?"

"Chief Rabbit, is it?" mocked Schiller, "Bunnies with leaders now? How very touching. Come to beg for your people's lives, Chief?"

"While you bullying oafs come to intimidate us with your firesticks, rather than fight us like real soldiers?" sneered Bigwig, throwing his own taunt back at Schiller, "You're a pathetic bunch, the lot of you!" Several mercenaries, angered by Bigwig's cheek, raised their guns to shoot, but Schiller stopped them. As much as he and his lads enjoyed sport-killing, they still had their orders from Crowley.

"We've here to do some business with you," he said, "You are to hand over to us all of your does and their young. If you fail to comply or attempt to resist, you will all be shot like dogs." Several of the rabbits looked at each other curiously. What did these ruffians want with their does? Bigwig however couldn't care less what their game was, only that he wasn't going to meet their insane demands even if he was to be snared for it.

"Now hear me," he said in a furious voice, stepping forward, "I'm Captain of Owsla of this warren and I enforce certain rules round here. First, our does are off-limits to riffraff like you! And, second, any threats or hostilities against our people are dealt with most severely..."

He never finished his sentence. With a nod from Schiller, one of his men raised his weapon to shoot Bigwig dead. But he never got the chance however, because at that moment, without warning, one of the mercenaries was tackled from behind by Holly, who had been waiting for the right moment to sneak up onto the enemy on Hazel's orders. That unexpected attack took the mercenaries' attention off the Watershippers for a split second.

Quick as a flash, Bigwig ducked out of their line of fire and, with a mighty battle roar, went charging at his attacker. In an instant, the mercenary was pinned under a mountain of muscle and fur, his spine snapping clean in half on impact. Also taking advantage of the distraction, the rest of his Owsla all fell upon the marauders. In another instant, the Down had become a raging battlefield.

The rabbits, all well trained in combat by Bigwig and instructed in taking on armed human opponents by Alan, fought bravely, pinning and mauling many of the mercenaries. But there were too many of them and no rabbits could possibly hold such hardened men of war and their sophisticated weaponry off for long.

Schiller's remaining men raised their net-guns and fired. One by one, the Watership Owsla found themselves helplessly entangled in strong, nylon netting, like insects in spider webs. And it didn't stop there. Having immobilised their opponents, the mercenaries drew their handguns and began shooting the trapped rabbits in retaliation.

Buckthorn Jr was the first one to be shot dead. The mercenary who'd snared him in his net stood above him, cold and emotionlessly drawing his pistol and putting a bullet right between his eyes. Acorn Jr, seeing his brother killed in cold blood, tried to tackle the mercenary and maul him to death, only to be shot dead as well from behind by another mercenary.

Holly roared in pain as a stray bullet found him in the left thigh. His shooter raised his weapon again to finish him off, but Pimpernel Jr managed to tackle the would-be assassin from behind, pinning him down and snapping his neck. He turned to look triumphantly at his father, who nodded gratefully at him. But unfortunately, he'd let his guard down. Holly felt his blood run cold as he watched his youngest son, who had only just made a promising start in his career as an Owsla soldier, being gunned down as well.

Fiver struggled helplessly in his entanglement but it was no good. All around him, the scene of death and destruction Little Threar had seen in his vision was unfolding just as it had been prophesized. Once again, his visions had failed to protect his friends from calamity. Nearby, Bigwig was also struggling furiously in his net, yelling threats and curses at the marauders, who laughed cruelly.

With the Watership Owsla incapacitated or dead, the remaining mercenaries regrouped and turned their attention back to the warren. Leaving several men to guard the remaining Watershippers, the rest of those thugs went charging into the Honeycomb, going for their prize. Hazel, also trapped in a net, watched helplessly as the invaders stormed his home.

Schiller led his men deep into the warren. As they made their way down the main run, they were suddenly set upon by the Junior Owsla, who had been hiding in the side burrows, waiting to ambush them. The rabbits managed to take a couple of the mercenaries down, but the rest of them quickly sprang into action and opened fire. In an instant, they had turned the tables on the Junior Owsla, who found themselves fighting a stronger enemy at close quarters, where they didn't stand a chance.

Rather than use nets, this time the mercenaries fired indiscriminately, killing any rabbit that stood in their way. Crowfoot, Sparrow, Yale and even Forest all fell dead. That just left the does.

Using infrared goggles, one of Schiller's men spotted the does hiding in the back burrow. He gestured at his patrol commander, who nodded.

"Make sure you take as many of them alive as possible," ordered Schiller, "We've orders to deliver them alive to that bloke Woundwort. Gas them out!"

His men donned their gas masks, while two of the mercenaries took out gas grenades and pulled their pins out. Like fancy cricket balls of death, the grenades went rolling down the run, belching clouds of noxious green smoke as they went. Then followed the agonising cries of the does being blinded and chocking. Their last line of defence lost, now they were easy prey.

Net-guns in hand, the mercenaries fell upon the does, ensnaring them all with ease. Her eyes in agony and her nose on fire, Hyzenthlay struggled blindly as a flying net wrapped itself tightly around her. But it was no use. It was like being trapped in a giant spider's web. She felt a pair of strong ithe hands grab her non-too-gently by her ears and dragging her along. In the midst of all this chaos, she could hear her friends and family being captured as well.

"Let me go!" she heard Thithuthinnang yell, struggling furiously against her captors. The cry of one of the mercenaries being clawed in the eye was heard, "You miserable, filthy beasts! Let go of me at once...!"

"Shut up!"

Thithuthinnang had made a fatal mistake. Enraged, the mercenary she'd clawed drew his pistol and fired. Her agonising cry followed the deafening sound of the gun, as the bullet found its mark. She crumpled to the ground, bleeding out.

"No! Thithuthinnang!" screamed Hyzenthlay in horror, "Please, not my sister...!" Her cries were cut short as another mercenary quickly tasered her, silencing her up.

"You fool!" Schiller chastised Sapper Nicholls, who had shot that doe against orders, "I said we need them alive!"

"One less flea-bitten rabbit won't make a difference, sir," retorted Nicholls, who thought this ridiculous mission of capturing these stupid rabbits alive was all one big waste of time, "That Woundwort fellow is going to kill them all anyway, isn't he? Might as well save him the trouble..." He fell silent as Schiller pressed his gun against the faceplate of his mask.

"Remember your orders, soldier, or I put you down for insubordination!" he growled at Nicholls, who, cowering, nodded, muttering his apologies. It was common knowledge that any kind of disobedience was dealt with swiftly and harshly amongst Crowley's ranks. "Now, grab that other one and let's move! Pull out!"

Abandoning the mortally wounded Thithuthinnang, Schiller and his men each picked up a bound rabbit and turned to leave, taking their prize with them. But the worse wasn't over yet.

Emerging back above ground with their prisoners, the mercenaries triumphantly prepared to make their leave, leaving behind a ravaged and ruinous warren. But first they had one last spot of unfinished business to take care of: dispose of those they weren't interested in capturing alive.

Ordering his men to head for the jeeps waiting for them at the foot of the Down, Schiller turned back to the fallen Watership Owsla. Standing above Hazel, he drew his pistol. He had one final message to deliver to the Watershippers. He aimed it directly between Hazel's eyes.

"I have been asked by General Woundwort to give you this warning," he said, disengaging the safety catch, ready to execute Hazel in cold blood. The Watershippers all gasped; not just at the sight of their beloved leader about to die with all of them unable to do a damn thing to help him, but also by what Schiller had just said. Woundwort? How could Woundwort be behind this madness? Fiver shut his eyes in horror, unable to bear the sight of his brother dying...

Alan tore through the orchard, looking for his daughter. The warren was already under attack and Lucy was there unprotected, along with all of their rabbit friends. If those thugs had hurt his daughter, he swore, he'd kill them with his bare hands!

Bursting into the clearing in front of the beach hanger, he met with a chilling sight. The Watership Owsla were all lying on the ground, some ensnared in nets but still alive, others, less fortunate, in pools of their own blood. A lone mercenary stood above Hazel, pointing a gun at him as if about to finish him off.

The would-be executioner would have finished the job in another second, but instead found himself being forcefully grabbed from behind. In another second, the tables had been turned. Alan wrestled the weapon from Schiller's hands and fired two shots in rapid succession that found their mark in the mercenary's abdomen. Schiller crumpled to the ground in a pool of blood, groaning in agony. His liver and stomach were history.

"Nobody touches my Chief, you scum!" growled Alan, standing over the wounded Schiller, pointing his own gun at him, "Now, who sent you?" When Schiller didn't answer, Alan furiously stomped down hard on the man's already bleeding stomach, not caring how much more pain he caused him, "Answer me, you bastard!"

But Schiller, realising he'd lost the game, wasn't about to sit there and slowly bleed to death. Alan saw him put his hand up to his mouth. In another instant, he was overcome by a violent seizure, foaming grotesquely at the mouth, as a strong smell of kernels filled the air. Too late, Alan realised Schiller had taken a concealed cyanide capsule, making sure he wouldn't be captured alive for questioning. With his dying breath, he smirked.

"You've killed your own precious friends, Johnson!"

In less than ten seconds, the seizures subsided and Schiller lay stiff and lifeless on the ground. More than what he deserved, to be sure! Alan turned his attention back to his friends. Taking out his knife, he cut Hazel free.

"What happened? Where are all the others?"

"They've taken them all," said Hazel, still shaken by the ordeal, as Alan helped him up and then turned to cut Bigwig free. None of them knew yet how this attack had happened, much less how many of them had been abducted or killed. However, Alan was only interested in one person right now.

"Where's Lucy?" he demanded, "Did she make it to the safety point? Is she all right?" Bigwig shook his head.

"Don't worry, she's a smart child. She sees a gang of dangerous thugs like these, she knows well enough to take cover... But, hold on!" he said, suddenly remembering, "Sandwort said something about her still being out there alone..."

Alan didn't wait to hear the rest of it. Grabbing his weapon, he tore off back in the direction of the orchard, hoping he wasn't too late...

After slipping away in the confusion, Sandwort had doubled back to where he'd left Lucy as fast as he could, but she was nowhere to be seen. Sandwort felt his insides twist up in anticipation, remembering the similar incident with Primrose. Unlike her and his family however, Lucy was the only one who hadn't turned her back on him after his fall from glory. If something had happened to her because he'd left her alone, he'd never forgive himself. Not to mention, Alan would kill him.

Forcibly pulling himself together and remembering his Owsla training, he sniffed the ground. He soon picked up Lucy's scent, her trail leading away into the orchard, when she'd fled to hide Drake's journal. Sandwort felt momentarily relieved; a relief which quickly evaporated however, as he noticed a second ithe trail following Lucy's, which was of course Hirsh, on the hunt for the journal. This wasn't good.

Wasting no time, Sandwort followed the trail, silently praying to Frith he hadn't made the same mistake twice by leaving his friend alone and unprotected...

After sending up her signal flare, Lucy had taken cover in the orchard, luckily without encountering any trouble on the way. Drake's journal clutched firmly in her hands, she looked around frantically for a good hiding spot to stash it and then get out of there. Tassel's empty hollow on a nearby tree caught her eye.

Standing on her toes, she tried to reach the hollow, but it was too high. She tried tossing the journal up, but only succeeded in dropping it into a muddy puddle on the ground. Cursing her clumsiness, she bent down to retrieve it. At that moment, she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

"Dad!" she called back in utter relief, "Over here! I'm over... Mmmm!" Suddenly, a large, meaty hand came out of nowhere, clamping down hard onto her mouth, gagging her. Before she could react, her attacker had locked his arm around her waist, locking her in a firm grip. Lucy struggled frantically, her legs flailing madly but her captor was too strong.

"Gotcha, you little rat!" smirked Hirsh in her ear, "Now give me that journal or I snap your neck!"

At that moment, Alan appeared on the scene. His eyes narrowed to slits at the sight of his daughter being held captive by that same miserable turncoat he'd encountered back at Crowley's camp. But Hirsh wasn't about to go down the same way as Harvey and Schiller. Grabbing Lucy, he held her close with one arm, using her as a human shield, his other hand pointing a 7mm Browning in her ear. Alan raised his own weapon.

"I'm warning you," he growled dangerously, "Let my daughter go right now, or you're a dead man!" Hirsh only tightened his grip on his weapon.

"Come any closer, Johnson, and I blow her bloody head off!" he snarled, although Alan could tell he was very nervous. Obviously, taking a child hostage wasn't something he'd done before. Alan kept his gun firmly trained in his direction, trying to get a clear shot, but couldn't without risking hitting Lucy. Hirsh backed away, keeping his distance, still holding Lucy as a shield.

Although utterly terrified, Lucy wasn't going to wait for that maniac to lose control and put a bullet in her. She knew it was risky and that she could get her head blown off, but it may be her only chance. So this creep Hirsh wanted Drake's journal, still clutched in her hands? Well, he could jolly well have it!

Suddenly, she swung the journal over her head with both hands, slamming it hard against Hirsh's forehead. Hirsh howled in pain, losing his grip on Lucy, who, like lightning, ran towards her father.

"Run, Lucy! Run!" called Alan to his daughter. Another couple of seconds and she would be safe and he could deal with Hirsh good and proper. But, sometimes fate can really take a turn for the worse.

Without warning, there was a faint popping sound and next thing he knew, Alan was entangled in a tight nylon net fired in his direction. Losing his footing, he toppled over.

"Dad!"

Seeing her father fall, Lucy ran to help him, not realising it was a trap. Before Alan could even shout a warning, a second net came flying at Lucy and she toppled over too. Looking, he saw it was that bloke who had shot Thithuthinnang, Nicholls, the empty net-gun still clutched in his hands.

Smirking triumphantly, Nicholls fell upon Lucy and bound her wrists and ankles with plastic cuffs, while Hirsh, still nursing the bump on his head, retrieved Drake's journal. Alan saw red.

"Leave my daughter alone, you bastards!" he shouted, struggling in vain to untangle himself. Nicholls only laughed cruelly, drawing his pistol. He'd already enjoyed killing that doe back at the warren; a little more collateral damage wouldn't do any harm. Alan paled.

"No...!"

"Wait!" called Hirsh, stopping Nicholls before he could pull the trigger, "We may need her alive. Take her!"

"You dare take my daughter and you sign your death warrant!" growled Alan furiously, "I swear, you bastards shall pay for this with torture and with death!"

"You mess with us, Johnson, and you sign hers," smirked Nicholls in warning. The two men boldly picked up the net with Lucy in it and, carrying her like a wriggling sack of potatoes, turned to leave.

"Dad, help!"

"I'll find you, Lucy!" called Alan, "Whatever it takes, I swear I'll find you...!" He never got to finish his sentence however when Nicholls, tired of listening to his threats, Tasered him. With a groan, Alan slumped to the ground out cold. The last thought that went through his mind was the terrible realisation that his worst nightmare, which had already once before befallen his life, had come true... again. A once hailed war hero had finally fallen from glory.

Their mission accomplished with only six losses, the band of mercenaries departed, leaving behind a scene of utter destruction and bloodshed. Watership Down had fallen.

Retreating back down the slope, the remaining mercenaries piled into their jeeps with their prisoners, all bound and incapacitated, and sped off back from where they'd come, jeering and cheering at their victory. Not far behind, the remaining Watership Owsla came running in hot pursuit, but couldn't keep up with the swift-moving vehicles.

"Come back here with our does, you hrakamarlin!" yelled Silver, "You stinking cowards!"

"Enjoy life while you've still got it, you back-scratching, bramble-brained scumbags!' he shouted, looking madder than ever, "I'm going to rip you all to pieces!"

The rabbits watched helplessly as the enemy disappeared into the night, taking a dozen or so of their does and children with them.

Unbeknownst to the Watershippers or the mercenaries however, a certain stowaway had hitched a ride in the back of one of the jeeps. Hiding in a corner of the trailer beneath a tarp, Sandwort was on a mission of his own. Having seen Hirsh and Nicholls snatch Lucy away, but smart enough not to intervene, least he be captured or killed too, he'd ran up ahead and was now secretly following the marauders back to their camp, to rescue his friends.

A part of him kept screaming at the foolhardiness of what he was doing, that this was plain suicide and he was completely out of his mind being here. But, scared as he may be, he wasn't abandoning another friend. He wasn't going to be branded a coward and a failure again. If this is what it took to make amends, then so be it.

Author's note: My sincere apologies for the lengthy delay, but this chapter was extremely difficult to write! Even more so was deciding who would live or die in the siege. Unfortunately, this is the harsh reality of war, so it would have been too unrealistic not to have numerous casualties. Until next time then!