Blackberry-rah assembled the Owsla into the main warren chamber. They looked expectantly, waiting for the warren's leader to assign roles for the journey to Nuthanger Farm. Somewhere behind the young rabbits sat the meek silhouette of Fiver, hunched in one of the chamber's exits. The dull sight-seers eyes darted from each Owsla member to the next, resting on Blackberry-rah.
The Warren was worse for wear. Skin and bone on each of the young rabbits, especially Blackberry-rah, whose pelt looked like rotted fur draped over a crooked skeleton. His eyes were sunken in, giving to a skull-like appearance any kit would skitter away from looking at it. but despite all this, he spoke with as much authority as any well-bred rabbit. Several of the youngsters from the Owsla were chosen. Some of them groaned, and many others did little to hide their excitement, which Fiver found quite amusing.
With the Owsla selected, the remaining rabbits were ordered to vacate the chamber, leaving only "four and one more" (as Blackberry-rah put it) standing in front of the Chief. Fiver stayed near the entrance and left when the chosen rabbits began to head to the surface.
On the surface he spotted Speedwell asleep in the middle of the field. It didn't seem restful, however. He twitched and clawed at the ground around him. Fiver had half a mind to nudge him awake and ask what was the matter.
Blackberry-rah called to Fiver. He was surrounded with the Owsla and Bigwig near the fog wall. Fiver asked what he had called for, to which Blackberry-rah revealed that he wanted Fiver to guide them through the Dense fog.
"I know all of us here know where Nuthanger Farm is," Started Blackberry-rah as Fiver hopped closer to them, "However, I think it's best to have a more talented navigator help us"
Fiver gave a curt smile. Blackberry-rah didn't know that his visions had faded, "Happy to help."
The fog had proved to be more troublesome than expected. On several occasions a few of the Owsla got lost for many minutes, causing a ton of backtracking. Nerves were at an all time high. Almost every rabbit in the group was shivering to themselves, or pressing against the closest rabbit to them. It had been so long since they had left the warren. To fiver it felt like years. They had made progress, but how close or far they were no one could tell.
Some of the younger of the Owsla tried to keep spirits up with a silly song, but were soon shushed by Bigwg as he though he heard something out there in the fog.
After some time of silence, Bigwig turned towards Fiver: "Are we still on the right track?"
Fiver shivered, the fog left him in a haze, and he had hardly remained focused enough to understand where they were. He looked at the opened eyes of the rabbits around him. "I believe we are," Answered Fiver. It wasn't a complete lie, he was trusting his innate gut feeling rather than the feeling that usually came with his visions. It was strange, it was like having a memory he couldn't recall. It was like a paw print in the mud, the animal that made it was likely still there, but here was something left, that gave no indication of what it looked like except for that it was there.
After what seemed to be days, the dark outline of the farm drifted from the fog. Instantly, Fiver could tell the tension in the group had disappeared. Their pace increased, and no sooner had the farm appeared, had they found themselves within it.
Bigwig at once divided up the Owsla to search for some good flayrah. Fiver decided to stay put as Bigwig headed off with one of the groups; his mind was too caught on his lack of vision. He tried concentrating, but the only thing he could see was the darkness of his closed eyelids. After a few minutes Fiver could see the faint glimmer of shadows in the distance. He called out for them, but they remained silent. Thinking that they were Bigwig and some youngsters, he headed towards them, but they remained non-reacting. Fiver could clearly see them now. There were three rabbits, Two small ones and a rather large one that sat behind the two. By now Fiver was in front of them, and asked them who they were. These strange rabbits were making Fiver's trembling worse.
"Aren't you pathetic?" spoke the first one. He limped forward until he was whisker to whisker with Fiver, "My very own brother, trembling all by himself! If you weren't such a trembling mess, an elil would've gobbled you right up!"
Fiver gasped. It was the voice of Hazel. He was too flustered to speak, which allowed the larger rabbit to step forward, revealing an eye that had been scratched blind.
"Wou-woundword" he stuttered, he pressed his belly to the floor and pinned his ears to the back of his head. His trembling only got worse. His heart beat against his chest.
"Weak." Hissed Hazel. He got closer to Fiver's face. Fiver could see that Hazel's fur wasn't the color as he had remembered it, it was much much darker, like it was cast in shadow, and the fur itself had the consistency of fluffy shadow.
"May we kill him?" asked the third rabbit. A doe.
"No." Replied Hazel. Woundwort remained silent, "He'll send a message,
The doe looked disappointed. "That little kit that Speedwell has…" he was talking directly at Fiver now "We need him brought outside of the thorn barrier."
"I don't understand," squeaked Fiver.
"That little kit has got himself in a mess of trouble. Trouble that he needs to undo. The ritual was incomplete. He must complete it."
Fiver was only bewildered, and managed to bring himself up to eye level with Hazel. But suddenly he struck out and swiped across Fiver's face with jagged claws, leaving small drops of blood dribbling down his nose.
"We want you and your group to head back to the Warren immediately. You shouldn't be out here."
"Fiver! Who are those strange rabbits you're talking to?"
Fiver whipped around to see the Owsla with Bigwig in the lead. It was one of the youngsters that had called to him. The Oswla had some Flayrah with them. "I don't know!" He said. The Owsla hopped over to him.
"Did they attack you?" Asked one of the Owsla, Bittersweet.
"That's of no concern," Spoke Hazel. His voice was commanding, "I want all of you heading home immediately."
"Is that Hazel?" Bigwig Exclaimed, he pushed his way into the front of the Owsla, "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be dead?"
Hazel gave an exasperated sigh, "Bigwig, now is not the time for Reunion. We need you back at the warren."
"Now hold on, I want to know what's going on here," He said this and sat down to further his point.
"I said leave." Hazel hissed, he got ready to pounce. The rabbits around him seemed to become agitated as well. Fiver shielded himself with a few Owsla rabbits. The Owsla too seemed to pick upo the agitation and the energy between the two become more tense. At any second it felt that Fiver would end up in the middle of a dozen rabbit bodies kicking and scratching at each other. This made Fiver's scratch hurt even more. He wiped at his nose with his paw and saw the glowing blood that dripped off stomach hurt with the way his own brother had treated him. His own dead brother. His head was foggy and he could only wish that he was back in the Warren. He regretted coming out of here.
"I don't like what's going on here, Fiver." It was Bigwig again," maybe Speedwell was right, or maybe this fog is driving us all mad. Regardless, I don't like it. Everyone, head back to the warren, take whatever you can carry."
With that the Owsla picked up its things, and headed back into the deep fog. Fiver watched Hazel, Woundwort, and the doe disappeared into the fog, and soon after so did Nuthanger, until they were surrounded by an empty landscape, with only the grass below them as a guide home. It felt like forever before they could see the Honeycomb again. The whole Owsla crossed the barrier with the Flayrah in hand.
"Excellent!" said Blackberry-rah, he was waiting by a large hole to the Honeycomb "I think you all know where it goes. I'll figure out how to distribute what we've got soon."
All the Owsla headed down, ignoring the longing stares of all the rabbits around them. Bigwig stayed above to talk with Blackberry-rah, as did Fiver. The incident at Nuthanger was still bouncing in his rattled mind.