"Well I think you return to obscure

or wherever you were before you where

but I won't let you lose yourself in the rain"

- Spring and a Storm, Tally Hall

Pain. That's all Thistle could feel, and blood, the only thing Thistle could taste. His body was weakened by the immensity amount of pain he was feeling. His head was throbbing as if a woodpecker and started pecking at his brain in slow, rhythmic, strikes.

Thistle slowly pried open his eyes to an otherworldly landscape, it seemed to be a large clearing surrounded by an assortment of trees, and a thick heavy fog blanketed the landscape, giving everything a pale tint.

Slowly and carefully, Thistle lifted himself up onto his paws, wincing as the pain grew in intensity. Where am I he wondered to himself, he didn't even remember hitting the ground? Everything happened so quickly.

Suddenly a voice spooked Thistle.

"There you are Thistle" the voice was loud and powerful. He looked around to find the source of the sound, but couldn't find it.

"Don't worry little one, I'll reveal myself when it's time." Thistle quickly cut in.

"Where am I? Who are you? What's going on? Will I get to-"

"Hush little one," the voice said, "I will answer your questions if you allow me to speak." The voice paused as if waiting for Thistle to react, then continued.

"You are dead Thistle, you didn't survive the fall."

Thistle's ears drooped, "But I'm still young! Can't I do anything to come back?"

"No," the voice said with a hint of frustration as if he had been asked this question many times.

"No, you cannot; because death is irreversible! Do you think I'd draw the line with you?"

Thistle stayed still in the clearing, tears started to form in his eyes.

The wind picked up, and a big dark rabbit whose pelt was the color of the night sky materialized in front of him.

The dark rabbit tilted thistle's head with his paw.

"I know you must be sad; I've seen kits, many younger than you, go through the same thing. But you will learn to accept it in time. Come on, I'll show you what I mean." The black rabbit took his paw off Thistle and beckoned the youngling to follow him.

He was about four hops away from Thistle when he noticed that the gray buck wasn't following him. He turned around and spotted a glimpse of Thistle's tail as he fled the clearing. That stubborn kit the black rabbit thought as Thistle dashed out of sight, He's going to get himself lost. The black rabbit chuckled to himself; He'll learn in time.

T histle huffed and puffed. He didn't know why he didn't want to follow the black rabbit; It would have been way easier if he had just gone along. But something burned inside of him, telling him to go on even though in the back of his mind he thought of it as hopeless.

After going through the forest for what seemed like seasons he came to its edge. Heading towards the edge the trees immediately stopped and the grass faded into a completely white and smooth plain. Just after the grass was a dense wall of fog in which Thistle couldn't seem to see through.

Something in the back of his mind told him that this was the way out; Behind the fog would be his freedom. He slowly hopped towards the dense wall of fog; an icy chill was produced by it. He stuck his paw into the fog and quickly pulled it back out. The fog was extremely cold and left his skin feeling tingly. But the voice insisted that he keep going.

Taking a breath Thistle plunged himself into the icy fog. The cold enveloped him into an uncomfortable embrace; it stabbed at his eyes and reached through his bones, but still, he persisted.

Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore he saw something that gave him hope; the ground was slowly turning back into grass the more he moved forward. He continued to push even though his entire body was stiffing. This looks familiar he thought, trying to take his mind off the fact that he had started shivering and chattering his teeth; and indeed it was. Looking forward he could just make out an outline of the tree at Watership Down.

A strange shimmering in the fog caught his attention; a voice in the back of his mind told him to go towards it. Upon getting closer he saw that the shimmering was an orb, and below this orb was a body; his body.

Touch it the voice said, it will set you free.

Thistle hesitantly stuck out his paw towards the orb; it radiated an immense heat, not too hot, but a comfortable warmth. He touched the orb and a sensation of heat overcame him; it started from his paw and spread through to his feet, warming his entire body. Then his entire body started to tingle; it started soft but grew more intense. He tried to pry away from the orb but found that he couldn't move.

A flash of blinding light filled Thistle's vision; it was beautiful.

Thistle's body started aching, his lungs started to feel as if they were on fire. His neck felt extremely sore, and his hind left leg felt numb. He gasped, forcing soothing air back into his aching lungs and opened his eyes; the blinding light of the sun hurt them. He slowly picked himself and nearly cried out in pain when he set his back leg down.

Thistle suddenly sensed that there were others looking at him. He saw faces, all of them held a state of shock.

"Thistle!" a voice cried; it was Thistle's father: speedwell.

Thistle felt the warm embrace of his fathers fur. He noticed Speedwell was shaking as if he was very upset.

"I'll never let you go thistle!" Speedwell said; his voice was cracking under sadness. "I was so worried. I'm sorry Thistle I'll take better care of you." Speedwell shook with tears; Thistle's eyes filled with tears; he was glad he was back. He tried to nuzzle his father but his neck hurt too much.

"Speedwell!" another voice shouted, "Get away from him! Can't you see that his leg is broken?" Thistle felt his leg throbbing in pain again. Of course, she had to remind me.

"Off! Off!" the doe said again. "Follow me my little one, we'll go get you fixed up!"

Thistle limped off in pursuit of the doe. But he couldn't help but turn his head to see how his father was faring; he was talking with fiver. Thistle strained to hear what they were saying.

"That wasn't natural Speedwell!" a male rabbit said; it was Fiver. "That was too high of a fall for him to survive."

"Can't I be happy that my son is alive?"

"I'm not saying you can't Speedwell, but I have a bad feeling, something is coming; I don't know what. But I know it's going to be bad."

"It was a miracle, and that's good enough for me"

"Is it a miracle Speedwell? Or is it a curse that hasn't fully presented itself?"

Speedwell remained silent and only glared at Fiver.

"Thistle are you coming?" the doe asked.

Thistle turned his head around. "Yes, ma'am" Thistle replied. What does Fiver mean by that? He thought himself did I do something wrong?.