My shoulder stung with every bound as I fled through the snow-covered forest. Icy brambles and wet branches caught on my fur, and even the thin layer of snow was enough to slow me down. Worse, my wound had reopened, leaving a thin trail of red on an otherwise white landscape. I gasped for breath in the frozen air.

The fox was getting closer.

The warren was close by. Almost there. Just focus, breathe. Keep the fear at bay. The warren was near. I could make it. Get there before I collapse. How had I not collapsed already?

A growl pushed me to run faster. Live first, learn later.

I ducked under a low branch and broke into a small clearing. A large rock, sloped and tall as a full-grown stag, sat in the middle. I’d run the wrong way, but there was shelter.

Two hops and I dug at the layer of snow that covered the entrance. I could make it. Why hadn’t Twitch cleared the opening?

My claws struck stone instead of the entrance. My heart sank; there was no escape. Why did I leave the warren alone?

I didn’t leave the warren.

“After the meeting, we went back to Foxvale without incident. Russet is in the kettle next to me; Fig insisted on waiting in the run. I’m dreaming.” I sighed and closed my eyes. “Okay Bremen, wake up.”

A low growl behind me let me know it wasn’t going to be that simple.

He lunged low as I turned. Probably expected me to freeze or flee. Instead, I leapt toward him and bounded off his back into the snow-covered brambles. Maybe he hit the rock, but the branches were too tangled to see through.

“Bremen, this is a nightmare,” I said as I ran. “And you’re too far underground to get to the surface of it. Maybe? So, what’s keeping me asleep?”

A howling yip of a fox answered my question.

The trees closed in, making the path I ran narrower and more obstructed. This wasn’t my first nightmare, nor a particularly bad one. I dove into one of the forming brambles and pushed my shoulder hard into the cold snow. The branches almost wrapped around me, still getting thicker. I willed them to break the trail of blood and cover my scent.

The sound of the fox got closer, distorted as it was through the shifting forest and snow. I didn’t move or breathe. This was in my mind; if I calmed down, he’d go away. I was in the burrow facing only my own fear. My limbs didn’t hurt; only my shoulder ached, and I let the snow dull that pain. The branches pressed against my fur. They sure felt real.

“I know you're in there.” His words shook the briar, threatening to knock away the concealing snow. They echoed, through the dream and…

I could feel him in the burrow. He was real, and he was looming over my sleeping form back in the warren. This wasn't one of the foxes from before, but his presence was there, and his warm breath was on my neck.

“Run, little rabbit,” he whispered in my ears.

I didn’t respond. Real or not, he wasn't physical. I wrapped myself in the bramble. The snow held my shoulder, and the trickle of blood did not melt through it. The branches, wet and heavy, dampened my scent; it was enough.

He snarled and pushed into the briar, too far to my right, and passed by me. This time, the snow fell, burying me underneath.

The panic of being trapped by snow was weakened because I wasn’t suffocating. It wasn’t in the burrow I shared with Russet. It couldn’t stop me from breathing. Slowly, I dug my way out. My shoulder continued to hurt. Chimera’s bite. Could that be why the pain wasn’t waking me?

Maybe I was thinking about this wrong. It was my mind, even if that fox was using a vision to invade. Perhaps fox-Bremen could help me; I dreamt I was him often enough. And he did show himself to Basil earlier.

Eventually, I broke free of the snow, emerging from under a large boulder, into another version of Twitch’s clearing. This one had the right opening, and a wounded fox. He was curled up out in the open, small spots of bloodied snow around his head, and a few gashes on his side that left it a bloody mat of fur.

I don’t think he was the fox that chased me. He looked familiar, yet I had never seen him before. His injuries tugged at me, did he need my help? Could it be some kind of trap?

I sighed. Heroes don’t leave injured animals to die. And if this was a vision or seer-attack, maybe it could break parts of my mind. Cautiously, I hop-stepped closer. Both ears forward, I listened and watched for any sign of life.

His fur was shorter and a little darker than the other one. Instead of an external presence, there was a connection that made my sides ache in sympathy for his wounds. He let out a little wet snort as I got closer. “Why did you come back?”

“My path ended up here,” I offered and looked over the fox’s side. The scent of blood was strong, almost overwhelming. But the cuts were shallow and superficial. The trickle of blood from my shoulder mixed with the pool from the fox on the ground. Absently, I clawed the three-by-three code into the ground.

“Blackfeather, you know who I am.”

“I’m... Blackfeather is my father,” I said. It wasn’t the first time I’d dreamt of fox-Bremen. About half the time I was him; the other I was a rabbit traveling with him. We always protected each other, my one concession to my father’s belief.

Fox-Bremen struggled to stand. “You’re bleeding, and it’s leading him right to us.”

The thin trail from my shoulder didn’t go back into the snow. It went around the hole I emerged from and through the underbrush.

The other fox pushed through them into the clearing. He strode closer, licking some of my blood off the ground. He smiled a toothy grin. “Run, little rabbit.”

I hopped up to him. “No.”

“Prey should know its place,” he snarled. “Now, run from Konal!”

“I’ve been having nightmares since I was young.” I sat up and puffed my chest. Any doubt was buried; dreams are based on confidence. “That’s all you are.”

My namesake got to his feet behind me. I imagined him uninjured, as the fox my father named me after. “Blackfeather, what’s going on?”

“This is a dream... or a seer-trick. He’s one of the foxes attacking a warren.”

“You’re not begging for mercy? Remarkable.” Konal narrowed his eyes as he grew larger and his fangs sharpened. A terrifying face that clawed at my resolve. “You think you can take me?”

I snarled together with fox-Bremen. “This is my mind. I’m in charge.”

The ground shook and crumbled away into void, taking trees, the rock and snow with it. I refused to fall and held Konal’s gaze. The two foxes prowled around me in the endless stars and night; one hunter, one protector.

“You have no power here!” I demanded, “Leave!”

“I survived Death himself!” He roared, causing the stars to shake. “You will not stop me.”

Fox-Bremen lunged and snapped at Konal’s throat. His–my–our shoulder hurt; Chimera’s bite dragged in the air and slowed him down. We were both bitten?

Konal casually stepped to the side. “You’re marked as well? Let’s see how.”

With that, he dove into the void, leaping from an unseen ledge and rapidly vanishing from sight. We followed. If this was a dream, it wouldn’t matter; if it was a vision, then I needed to understand.

A great cliff covered in grass rushed at us from the side. It struck fox-Bremen and myself solidly and the direction of down twisted. Suddenly we were flat on the ground, and I watched him bleed from punctures on his shoulders and chest. Talons. An owl did this. We were outside of the warren of Willowdown. We–he felt cold. The wounds were too deep.

But he did not die there. There were rabbits all around. I hated rabbits; they tricked us and hurt us. An owl… Why had an owl attacked us? And we managed to limp to the warren. At least, we were headed past. I didn’t expect to collapse there. He hadn’t expected to collapse.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Death was there, a black-as-night fox with a lighter right-forepaw. His eyes were an impossible tone, resembling blood, only more intense, like his essence looked out through them and the rest of him was mere trappings. Those terrible eyes narrowed at me as he gazed into my soul. “There is little time, and the division between rabbit and fox must end if you are to survive.”

A white rabbit approached fox-Bremen and licked the wounds clean. Another rabbit brought an herb and, after some arguing, used it to stop the bleeding. Death faded as they worked.

I knew the rest.

Blackfeather asked, “Brother fox, are you okay?”

“Why?” my namesake growled.

My father sat back and laughed. “A friend needed help.”

Behind them, Konal walked through the memory. “Why are you a rabbit if you’re a fox?”

I forced myself to stand, leaving the half-remembered wounds of my previous self on the ground. For a moment, fox-Bremen stood with me, then we approached Konal as one. My fox-feet felt like an old friend as I walked. My proper fox-self was more real than Chimera’s bite.

“Whatever I was, whatever I am, I live as a rabbit.”

I lunged forward; memories of a lifetime of kills and bites flooded me from fox-Bremen. My muzzle snapped at Konal’s legs.

Konal hopped back, but his right hind leg collapsed under the sudden weight. He hit the ground hard, sprawling in the grass. Quickly, he propped himself up with his forelegs. His eyes filled with pain, then shame, then rage at his weakness.

And the moment was gone. My strength wasn’t for hurting others. The white-rabbit I was left fox-Bremen behind. “Are you okay?”

He recoiled. “Don’t look at me like that.”

I hopped up to him, but he sank into the ground before I got close.

The grass didn’t part as I tried to follow, and Chimera’s bite returned with a sharp pain as I bumped into it. I attempted to dig, but my limbs felt heavy. My eyes fluttered as I started to wake. Konal was retreating, and if this was a vision-trick, the dream it caused started to end.

“Don’t wake up yet. Calm down, Bremen.” I relaxed. Konal was my best lead. If the vision was my dream, could I simply continue it? “Take a moment, feel the connection. Follow it.”

My shoulder throbbed. The thin trail of blood stretched out in front of me. I slowly hopped after it, following the feeling of dread it represented. That Foxvale would be destroyed if I didn’t follow it to the end.

“I’m afraid, Blackfeather,” fox-Bremen said.

The dream returned, filled with white snow, falling too thick to see through. As we walked, a familiar forest emerged through the flurry, a place north of Hazelford, near the stream. My father showed it to me my second spring. The trail of blood continued, leading me along the path we traveled. My father and me; my father and Bremen. This time, I was Blackfeather and my namesake was the fox about to die.

My memories were a little jumbled, but we were hunted by Rebel’s old pack. His father decided that killing either Blackfeather or the fox with him would stop Rebel’s visions. It didn’t; it was only the panic of a father who couldn’t accept what his son was.

A howl erupted behind us. We fled, following the trail as best we could. The snow faded as the dream became stronger. The air warmed slightly, and the forest woke with small buds on the trees, heralding the start of a new cycle of life. The sky lightened but clouded, a spring day without sun.

“Can you smell another fox?” I asked as we ran.

“I think so. There shouldn’t be one; that’s not what happened.”

“Too bad Corbin wasn’t here. He could scout for Konal.”

“But, he’s not,” fox-Bremen said. “He wasn’t? Why do I remember how this ends?”

I tried to keep up. The stream was getting dangerously close. We had to find Konal before we got there. “This is a memory, or dream, or some kind of seer-attack. I hope it’s a vision; that means I can learn about the foxes from Konal.”

“We’re walking into a trap,” fox-Bremen observed. “I think I die at the end.”

Another howl rang out, closer this time. The wolf-pack was getting near. “Konal must be hiding behind the worst memory he could find. But this isn’t my memory. It’s just a story my father told me.”

“Are you so afraid of me, of him being right, that you can’t feel our connection?” Fox-Bremen yipped and sighed. “The Fox-with-One-Red-Paw once told me that the connection between myself and a rabbit would kill me. Accepting him as a friend may have ended my life, but it gave me three more seasons than I would have otherwise had and a family, even if it was made of rabbits. I never told him, but here, in this coming moment, I showed him.”

And with that, we came to the stream. It was a little longer than a bound across and here it ran deep and fast. Not impossible to swim, but difficult and dangerous. Especially swollen with melting snow and little remnants of ice from upstream.

The pack arrived with Konal. Some stepped from behind trees, others were simply there when we looked back. An older wolf, Regent, stepped forward. “A ghost-rabbit was my son’s first vision. Because of that, I spared a fox. Today we will correct that and my son will return to the pack.”

“It’s not like that,” I objected. Not like that’d change the memory. “If you would just talk to Rebel, he’d tell you.”

Fox-Bremen stepped in front of me. “Jump. You can make it.”

Konal laughed as he watched. “This is so precious, protecting your little rabbit friend. We know how this ends. You died protecting prey, a talker without a fox-soul.”

“No.” My ears were flat against my head. “He won’t die here. This is my dream and my story; I get to tell my own ending.”

“I’m already dead,” fox-Bremen shouted. “Go!”

The wolves rushed us. I was supposed to jump off the cliff, not quite making the leap. Rebel’s older brother was supposed to tumble into the river with Bremen, where my fox-self drowned. The body was supposed to wash on the shore past Hazelford, the same place I almost froze to death. But this was not the past. This was a carefully laid trap.

I lunged for Konal. The dream wolves ignored me, enacting the old story my father told. Konal almost laughed at the absurdity, but I was too quick. He stepped to the side, dismissing the helpless rabbit who dared defy him. But, I remembered something Twitch’s father once said:

When walking into a trap, find what’s out of place and strike there.

I spun as I landed, kicking Konal’s hind leg hard in the haunch. He howled as his leg collapsed.

We struggled. He had shrunk or I had grown. I tried to rake his stomach while he bit at my neck. He cried out, but my back-claws ripped at his chest as my forelegs held him. Behind me, fox-Bremen and Rebel’s brother fought.

“Bremen! Nightmare!”

I gasped. Eyes open yet still seeing fragments of the dream swim at the edges of my vision. Russet’s terrified voice pierced them as he begged, “Bremen, wake up.”

There was fur in my mouth with the taste of blood. I shook from the sudden change of perception. “Russet, by Prince Twilight, I’m okay. Are you?”

“I’m a little scratched, and you bit me, but I’m fine.” He backed away and licked at his forepaw. “You tossed so much, I thought your wound reopened. I was worried.”

My body felt wrong, but I stretched to wake myself up. My shoulder didn’t hurt, even if there was a little blood, and I took a few deep breaths. My chest felt better; the bruises from Chimera seemed gone.

“One of the foxes attacked me.” I hesitated, aspects of the dream slipped from my mind, but I held onto what I could. “I think he was called Konal.”

“Could it have been a vision?” Fig called from outside the kettle.

Blight, I forgot about Fig. I flattened my ears and fought back a whimper. “I’ve never had one myself. Maybe it was the fox that Basil saw in me? Or shock from the bite.”

“Then, it was probably a fever-dream,” Fig scoffed. “Nothing to worry about.”

“It felt like something to worry about,” I said. “Normally, I don’t bite anyone in my dreams. If it was something more, do you think talking to Basil would help?”

Russet spoke before Fig. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? He was really upset yesterday.”

“I should apologize for what happened. And, Fig can talk to him on my behalf?” I gave Russet a nudge with my nose. “If you think talking to him will give me some insight.”

“Of course it will,” Fig agreed. “We should go now.”

“Maybe we should wait,” Russet said. “My paw got bit and I want to make sure I’m not tracking blood anywhere.”

“Then clean up here and have Sylvia look at your paw. We don’t want you contaminating any herbs you work on today.” Fig grunted. “Did the bite on Bremen’s shoulder reopen?”

“Give us some space,” Russet demanded and lowered his voice. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

As he sniffed at my shoulder, I whispered back, “It was definitely a seer-trick. If it made them fox’s-paws, they’ll act odd; it’s our best chance. And you need to make sure I don’t change.”

Russet flattened his ears. “The bandage held and you don’t seem to be bleeding. We got lucky. Be careful.”

“Come on!” Fig snapped, poking his head into the burrow. “You need to talk with Basil before you forget the dream. He can clean and redress the wound after Sylvia tends to his paw.”

“Is it okay that Russet will be by himself?”

“We don’t have enough watch-rabbits as is.” Fig nudged Russet. “Get the blood here cleaned up and see Sylvia. We’ll see you later. Now Bremen, let’s get going.”

I followed Fig through the winding runs toward Basil’s burrow. Fig continued to grumble. “Russet doesn’t like seers much, does he?”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“When I asked him if he was a seer yesterday, he was jumpy.” Fig grunted again. “Rabbits that jumpy usually had bad experiences. Got bit by an out-of-control vision that left them a little hollow inside. We used to see a lot of those—victims of Hue. Have you heard of her?”

“A little.” I gulped; this was not the time to bring up Seerleaf. “Visions are unusual, seers are unusual, and unusual makes rabbits jumpy. Besides, Russet is a rabbit of reason. He doesn’t like what he can’t explain.”

“Yeah,” Fig said, “I’m sure that’s it. If it’s important, I’m sure Basil will figure it out.”

Of course, that was one of many reasons rabbits were afraid of seers. Which would make getting through that conversation without letting on I thought he was a fox’s-paw difficult.