On the slope outside of Foxvale, a thin layer of newly fallen snow covered what little grass remained. My breath formed a small mist as I exhaled in the night air. The Lady Moon would be full the next night, and her light on the snow highlighted the shadows cast by the rocks of the slope. The resemblance to the snowfall of my dream was unsettling; my emotions were still a little tattered from having bit Russet’s paw as well as facing memories that might be from fox-Bremen.
Which assumed it was a vision or reincarnation, and not false memories from my father’s stories. I suppose it could still be a nightmare, but the unsettled feeling and phantom bites faded a little once I got above ground. The feeling that my shoulder was leaving a trail of blood behind me did not. Maybe it was because the bite was real—even if the way it happened was surreal—I couldn’t deny the injury itself was just a dream.
“Don’t stand there staring,” Fig interrupted my thoughts. “Basil must’ve come out here to think.”
There was only one set of rabbit tracks in the snow, heading downhill to where Basil and I had talked the day before. We followed them until we could hear Basil arguing with himself.
“Show me what that fox was,” he shouted at himself, not noticing our approach. “No proper predator has visions! You’re a rabbit. How dare you! He’s dangerous.”
Fig forced a grunt-sneeze as we got closer, and Basil rapidly composed himself.
“Hello Basil,” I said. “Is it okay if we talk?”
“Oh. Bremen.” He flattened his ears with disappointment. “Your bite is bleeding.”
“Uh, yes.” I hopped closer. If this was a trap, I accepted I was bait. “I had a nightmare. I’ve had nightmares before, but this one felt different. More intense.”
“Uncontrolled foxes are a problem.” He groomed his paws like it was a joke. “Bad dreams happen when the situation is uncertain. Both foxes from yesterday have me worried.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “I thought, as a peace offering, I could seek your counsel on my dream. And try to assure you that I’m not a fox’s-paw.”
“I never said you were,” he stated. “That would be too simple for someone like you. Tricksters make foxes their paws. Did you promise him another warren to destroy? This one is already claimed!”
“Wait, that’s not it,” I objected. “Fig, tell him. You were with me all yesterday; I was hurt and injured.”
Fig nodded. “Please, if he was what you think he is, how could he have been bitten?”
“Of course. You defend him, Fig,” Basil snapped.
“It wasn’t the fourth day,” Fig countered, “And he didn’t bite himself on the shoulder.”
“True.” Basil grunted and sat down. “I don’t need a vision to tell me that. Very well. I will speak to your questions.”
I took a breath and settled into the snow. “I believe Chimera is a seer. I’ve heard of a wolf-seer from this region, so I know they’re possible. I’m worried this bite might represent some way for him to attack me.”
“Let me see.” He practically lunged at my shoulder, sniffing and tearing the grass weave off. “It’s not physically bleeding. The blood might be a hint of a vision being used against you.”
“And you can smell it because you’re a seer?” I asked.
Basil winced. “If that is what you need to think to make sense of the bite.”
“He left me alive on purpose,” I emphasized. “I’ve seen him use visions to control rabbits. And he’s getting stronger.”
“Please,” Fig whispered, “the fourth day—” Whatever else he might have added was cut short by a glare from Basil.
“You think the bite will make you a fox’s-paw.” Basil gently ran his claws over the scab on my shoulder. “You think that Fig’s nose is like this wound. Your theory is wrong.”
Fig flattened his ears and sulked into the snow, covering his nose with his paws.
“Remember. I had a vision of what happened two nights ago.” Basil chuckled. “I saw you run Fang into a tree. If you think that Fang gave Fig the same injury to control a helpless rabbit, I cannot speak to the truth of that. The flaw in your thoughts is that I have only been injured by one monster.”
I tilted my head. I had hoped to find a bite or claw-mark on Basil, assuming he was being controlled and not simply a traitor. Knowing who Fang was could have been from him seeing my fight with the foxes.
“Buttercup,” Basil said. “The leaves cause blisters on a rabbit’s lips. Eating more than a single leaf makes you sick. The irony of that name was lost on my father.”
Fig sat up slowly, both ears pointing at Basil.
“He claimed it was for my own good,” Basil began. “He never wanted a seer for a son. My first vision caused him to bloody my ears. Four days later, he tried to beat the visions out of me. He continued doing that for three seasons. He said it was because Hue’s visions were every four days. He expected my visions would follow the same pattern.”
“Please, Basil,” Fig offered. “He’s gone.”
“I regret that he was the first one the foxes killed.” Basil grunted. “He never got to experience their true cruelty.”
My ears flattened. “That’s terrible. A father couldn’t…”
“He was an abusive terror!” Basil shook. “Any time he saw evidence I had a vision, he would wait until the end of the four days. He believed that my visions were stronger on the fourth day and he would try to bleed them out of me. My paws. My gut. My nose. My ears. I guess I’m lucky he never tried my eyes.”
Fig nudged the small seer. “Please, there’s no need to relive that. Your visions are not like Hue’s. We know this. Buttercup should have seen that.”
“But...” I sighed, unsure if this was simply a seer traumatized by his family and his abilities, or a real traitor. “The foxes do follow her pattern.”
“Yes,” Basil said. “You were stronger than Fang that first night. It is possible that Chimera cannot overpower you until the fourth day.”
“Chimera was playing with me. Like a cat.” I grunted. “The bite was in the dream. It slowed me down and made me vulnerable.”
Basil sniffed my shoulder again. “Perhaps the foxes are testing you. A way to tell if the fox inside you is real.”
“I’m not a fox,” I grumbled. “My father told stories about how I had the soul of a fox he once knew. It doesn’t mean anything. Why would they care who I’m named after?”
“Your dream.” Basil asked, “Was there one fox or two?”
“What?” I stammered. “There was one fox chasing me.”
“No.” Basil cuffed me. “You had a fox ally. Was he you? Was he separate?”
“I don’t know.” I winced and sulked into the snow. “We had the same wound, but I don’t think of him as me?”
Basil pulled back to give me a proper claw, but instead went still. His breathing got shallow, and he looked above me like last time. Slowly he hop-stepped around me, always looking above my head. His voice was a faint whisper. “Two fox souls struggle within and you will dream of their strife. Saving him caused you to die and killing you gives him life.”
He came back to himself as he completed the circle. “The vision has spoken.” Instead of the swipe he was going to take, Basil waved his forepaw to dismiss me. “This infection will pass like a fever. You no longer need to be concerned.”
I grunted at his lie. I wasn’t sure what his vision meant, but his interpretation didn’t match the words. Was it possible he was simply a traitor and not a fox’s-paw? I needed more information. Maybe if I played along.
“If you’re sure, Basil,” I said. “I did have a question about another vision of yours. Lily said that you saw what happened to her father. Can you tell me what happened?”
Fig’s fur bristled at me. “Haven’t you tormented Basil enough today?”
“I choose to answer this,” Basil said without turning away from me. “When I entered the meeting hall after Bramble was killed, the scent of blood bit me and shook. I saw Bramble through the darkness. Alone. Ears flat as he scurried back and forth. The fox ran past me. Perhaps he came through the wall.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Fig’s reaction was not what I expected. Instead of anger, he cowered away from Basil, hiding his nose in the snow.
“The attack was unnecessary.” Basil flicked one ear at Fig, but held my gaze as he spoke. “Brutal. A deep bite followed by blood flying as Bramble was shaken. After Bramble was dead, Fang tore at his body. It was the act of a fox without control. One who didn’t care if he was seen.”
Fig’s ears were flat against his head, and he had covered his face with his paws.
“Are you okay?” I broke eye contact with Basil to ask Fig.
“Don’t mind him,” Basil insisted. “Fig was the first watch member to arrive. Bramble was going to meet with him. One could say it was Fig’s fault that the big fox did not kill someone else. It can also be said that Fig should have been able to follow the bloody trail left by the careless fox. Both of them were so careless.”
Fig shuddered and whimpered at Basil’s words.
“Stop this!” I stepped in front of Fig. “The fox was from Hue’s vision or is a ghost or something. It’s not Fig’s fault.”
“Yes.” Basil chuckled. “Fig needs other rabbits to defend him. I will stop if you prefer that my answer is unfinished.”
“You’ve answered enough.” My heart raced from anger and frustration; it felt like Basil had struck a friend. It was a cruel act and—and it was a test. Had to be. Basil wanted to see if I’d protect another fox’s-paw. Or, if I’d get angry. I forced the emotion down. “Thank you. Although I wonder if you were able to follow the trail?”
Basil hesitated and flicked his ears my way. “What do you mean?”
“The foxes use or are a vision. Hue’s vision.” I loomed closer to Basil, but resisted the urge to cuff him. “You’re a seer; couldn’t you follow the bloody trail Fang left? Why couldn’t you see how they use her vision to appear?”
“Oh.” Basil smiled. He knew I was grasping blindly. “I saw it from Bramble’s perspective. His neck was broken and he was laying the wrong way. I couldn’t turn my head.”
My ears flattened, and I settled down. He was lying, but I didn’t have enough proof. Maybe Oakbud would have him watched, but that wouldn’t stop the killings.
A long silence followed as the snow lightened from the first hint of dawn. Fig got to his feet. Although his body still shook from Basil’s words, he forced a yawn, showing his teeth as a predator might. Basil ignored the anger directed his way.
I got to my feet as well. I chose to show mock-comfort in stillness and a casual tone. “Thank you again for your insight. I will let you know if the fox returns to my dreams tonight.”
Unconcerned, Basil looked at his forepaw and flexed his toes. “You should not wait.”
“I’m no longer tired,” I objected, “and I doubt I’ll be able to sleep much tonight.”
“You must understand. You are trapped in concern and fear.” Basil casually hopped out from the rock that sheltered us and scanned uphill with his ears and eyes. “There are quicker ways. I am sure Fig knows.”
Movement behind me. Fig planted his forelegs on the ground and kicked at me with his hind legs. It was slow, off center, and unfocused; something I’d have been chastised for as a kit. I took less than a half-step to avoid it. I should have struck back or jumped away.
Instead, I opened my mouth to say something when pain exploded on my back. Crushing weight pinned me to the ground and knocked the breath out of me. There was barely time for panic; I couldn’t get any air.
As I lost consciousness, a voice growled, “Make sure no one saw us.”
The dream began almost before my eyes closed and jumbled the moments before and the moments after. Had there been a fox? Had Basil hit me?
I was in the hazelnut grove by the stream that ran past Hazelford. I briefly remembered I was waiting for a dream, but that question was lost to the dream itself. Why should I be concerned about a dream, as I waited for… I was waiting for Uncle Corbin. It was the first full moon of spring. My father’s punishment was finally over.
I watched the water run by. I thought of Russet and Twitch. They looked older than they should; we were still kits. Twitch looked thin, almost ill in my memory of him. It didn’t matter. Once I was a storyteller, we could have adventures again.
A single drop of blood fell in the stream. Was I bleeding? My shoulder felt like it was, but I couldn’t see any injury.
“Caw!”
I jumped at the noise and landed right on the bank. Dirt shook loose from where my foot landed and rolled into the water to be carried away. I turned to see a dark bird, almost as large as I was. Black feathers and obsidian eyes greeted me, and he cackled at my shock. Indignant, I shouted, “Uncle Corbin!” He continued to laugh, amused he was able to get the drop on me. Crazy bird. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“Your father wants to talk with you.”
He led the way to my father’s burrow. After two cycles of seasons, Hazelford had mostly gotten over the shock of seeing Corbin. The other rabbits still avoided us; some crouched low, others did their best to ignore the sight. Just another crazy albino, making a mockery of traditions and inviting strange animals too close to the warren.
A sudden chill came over me. I flicked my ears and eyes around. For a moment, it felt like I was the only thing there that was real and everything else was part of a story. I was leaving a trail of blood from a bite wound on my shoulder. Why couldn’t I remember that injury?
“Are you okay, Brem?” Corbin’s voice brought me back to the warren.
The blood and the wound on my shoulder were gone when I looked for them. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
My father’s burrow was well past the far eastern edge of the warren. The other rabbits found his ways unusual and disturbing, so he lived as far from the center of Hazelford as he could. For my father, it worked out. When Corbin spent his first winter there, Blackfeather was able to expand the burrow without anyone noticing.
My father was outside when we arrived. As always, he was standing on his hind legs like he was listening for something, his forelegs folded behind his back. “Today’s the day, Bremen. I must ask: Do you still want to know?”
“Of course. I miss my friends. I need to see them again, no matter what the cost.”
“No, not for those reasons.”
“I need to know.” My mind raced for a reason. If not my friends, then why? “I want to know, because no matter how painful it is, it will help the warren and my friends. I want to know, because I want to understand our strength, the good and the bad.”
“It sounds like you’ve forgiven them for finding out.” With two clicks of his teeth, he continued, “I wondered if my punishment was harsh, but you needed to heal. You almost froze to death.”
“I know, dad.” I grumbled a little, but he was right. “Although that fox helped me to shore.”
“Of course, Bremen would do that.”
“Dad!” I cried. “Don’t start that today. Maybe that was him, but I’m not...”
“If you need him, I’m sure he’ll appear.” Blackfeather chuckled and licked the top of my head. “Maybe he led Rebel to find you in the snow.”
“No, that was the black rabbit,” I corrected. Then, paused.
For a moment, I was floating above the scene, watching my father and myself talk. From the north, there was a fox coming closer, jumping the stream. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him in the wound on my shoulder. In the blood-trail I was leaving as I walked.
And that impression was gone. I was back to talking to my father.
“Son, do you want me to show you what I did before we go meet your friends? I mean, once we get there, they’ll all want to talk and protocol will crumble and we won’t have a lot of time. You know how that works.”
A familiar fear gripped me. The lingering shred of doubt that my father wasn’t the hero he appeared to be. Still, I forgave him; we were family. “It’s best to know if I can handle it before introducing me to everyone.”
“Stories are a way to show life and how we see it. By telling stories, we change the way others see their world.” He thought for a moment. With a heavy voice, he added, “I hope you will forgive me.”
“This is the story of the rat-plague of Hazelford...” He showed emotion in the movement of his ears, his face. His voice filled the area like a breeze, there and yet able to fade into the background. The specific words escaped me as he described a rabbit king, one who fought against an army of rats that spread as far as the eye could see.
Then, I began to notice things. More than imagining the rats and the wave after wave that gathered, the warren seemed to swarm with them. I knew I was in danger, the same way the king was. The other animals in the hedge were looking to me for guidance.
Something snarled inside me, the impression of a fox. The one who gave me strength in the stream gave me strength then. It insisted I was not a rabbit and not a king. There were no rats. This was wrong. Suddenly, I screamed “No!” and collapsed, my ears holding tightly to my body. The images of rats and rabbits faded as my father stopped his story.
My father placed a paw on my shoulder. He waited until I stopped trembling before he said, “It’s over, Brem. I’m sorry.”
That same voice inside me insisted, “Call me Bremen.” Then I realized that I said that out loud. I looked up at my father, and the pain in his eyes explained everything. When he talked about changing perceptions, he meant it literally, a direct and controlled change. Nagging in the back of my mind was a question I knew I asked back then. “How did you do that?”
But the dream had broken along with the story. My father was not there and the fragment of the dream that looked like him did not have a voice strong enough to insist it was real. The chill returned as the injury in my shoulder refused to remain hidden any longer. The scene was a memory.
Behind me, fox-Bremen nudged me with his nose. “You called for me here. The strength to remember who you were.”
I leaned into him. And remembered to check. He did have the same bite that I had. Chimera had bitten us both.
As the memory faded, only we remained… And Konal was running closer. Without the limp he had last time. Although, I’m not sure if I remembered the limp during that dream. Maybe a little. Once I recognized it as a dream, my memories were a lot less scrambled.
Konal snorted as he got closer. “The fox again. Why aren’t you dead?”
“I am,” Fox-Bremen said. “You will not harm my rabbit-self.”
“No matter.” Konal howled, “I will kill you both!”
They ran at each other, rising up to claw and bite as they got close. Fox-Bremen bit Konal on the neck, but Konal broke free and bit Bremen’s foreleg. They circled, nipping and swiping, striking fur and flesh.
My shoulder itched, then burned as they fought. The injury bled more with each bite and started to spread down my foreleg after Konal managed to rake his back-legs down Bremen’s chest. I shook, helpless as they fought. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere within the vision, but it was based on a dream. I could still wake up.
Normally, willing myself to open my eyes was enough. Sometimes, I’d tell myself to wake up or Russet would notice me tossing and turning. But the vision, Konal, was keeping me asleep this time. A bite on Bremen’s haunch caused my foreleg to collapse.
Desperate, I tore at the dream itself, clawing at the veil in front of my eyes. I could dig myself out. It struck back with remembered pain. The first time I was bitten by a snake; the one and only time a bear batted me across a frozen river; when an owl cut open my side with his talons.
I would not stop. The snakebite was treated by Lutin and Russet; I was getting the bear off balance so Twitch could lure him onto thin ice; fox-Bremen met my father after Sathe attacked. Despite the agony, I dug, screaming, until I saw daylight.