My brother’s body slowly cooled on the damp leaves as I wept into his fur. A brother by ritual and oath, who loved me in a way I could not reciprocate, our last adventure killed him. When other predators insulted him for our friendship, he stood strong and tall. My statement had caused him to flinch, because it came from his brother.
Konal caused me to say those words. I felt sympathy because he was protecting Fang. Yet, in saving his brother, he killed mine. I could still feel him inside. Konal knew what it was like to kill a brother by mistake. I rejected the sympathy. This was not one of my father’s stories; I would not befriend the monster who killed Twitch.
Someone nudged my side. I pulled away and shouted, “What?”
Russet didn’t budge, his eyes filled with similar tears. “It wasn’t you.”
“What if it was?” I snapped back. “What if we can’t beat them? What if you need to kill me before I do the same to you?”
“When I was caught in my addiction, you would not let me give up.” Russet stood on his hind legs and batted me on the head, both saying I acted like a kit and telling me to stop. “I won’t let you.”
“I know what I said.” His words stung more than the cuff, but there was a cold numbness that had begun to spread. My voice was flat, without emotion. “The Seerleaf didn’t put us in danger. If Konal wins, it won’t be Chimera who kills you; it will be me.”
I ignored Russet’s response and collapsed into the snow next to Twitch. There was no comfort in the fading warmth in his body. Everything eats rabbits. Twitch became prey because he was my brother; no matter what he said, no matter what I told myself. He died because of me, because of the storyteller group he was born into, because of my father’s beliefs.
Russet cuffed me again. “I said, running after me put you in danger. You came to save me, and we will find a way to save you.”
Sylvia watched us, ears back in distress. That pain echoed despite the growing numbness. Twitch had threatened to kill her cousin. Fig was trapped within a monster who was killing everyone she loved, offering only helpless objections. It didn’t stop the empty numbness, but it gave me reason to sit up.
And spot movement behind her.
Training and instinct conflicted. Rabbit instincts said to flee or freeze, watch training said fight it or lead it away, and a fox’s instinct said to bite and threaten the smaller predator. I leapt past Sylvia to nip at what would have been smaller than fox-Bremen.
“Wait.” It was the badger, mouth still a bit bloody from my kick the day before. She ignored my aggression and sat back, almost amused that I tried to bite her. “I not eat today.”
Sylvia shook, stuck in place.
Russet tensed, ready in case the badger lunged. “We know her.”
The badger waited for me to back away before making her lazy way to Twitch. “You weep for friend? Your Melanie?”
“Her raccoon friend,” Russet answered Sylvia’s question before she asked. “The foxes killed her. We think it was because she attacked Fig.”
I ran past the badger and stood over Twitch. “You will not touch him.”
“He not there,” the badger said in Lapine, before switching to Mustelid. “He really was your friend; I looked like that when my companion was killed. Do not worry, my jaw is too sore.”
With a grunt, I settled on the ground. I didn’t want to deal with this. If the badger wanted an easy meal, she could wait. A spreading numbness devoured my empathy; whatever pain she felt at Melanie dying was nothing compared to my guilt. Maybe the day before I would have cared, but not there. Not with Twitch’s body still bleeding.
“What did she say?” Sylvia asked.
“Her jaw hurts,” Russet answered. “She, uh, got into a scuffle yesterday.”
“With you?”
“With Bremen,” Russet said. “She bit her own mouth.”
“I heard predators could do that.” Sylvia hopped closer to the badger, sniffing. “You still bleed. Does it hurt?”
“A bit,” she responded. “I will heal.”
The badger almost jumped as Sylvia stuck her paw in the predator’s mouth, examining the teeth. “Looks like it might get infected. Here, I’ve got something that should help. Lay down.”
“Not worth your help,” the badger objected and pulled away. “I killed rabbits.”
“I get that,” Sylvia objected. “But, we’re both victims of the foxes. We’ve all lost loved ones to them. Today, we are not enemies.”
“Never enemies,” the badger said. “Food is not enemies.”
“Friends?”
The badger didn’t answer, but moved closer to Sylvia. “You may heal.”
Sylvia ignored the potential for danger and used her claws to release some of the swelling. I tried to ignore my father’s voice. Forgiveness. The badger could be a friend.
Blight and blood. My anger cut away those thoughts, tore at them with stinging claws. Predators could not be friends. In being friends, they became prey. Being her friend was just another way of killing her. Too bad my anger did not see that as something that would work on Konal.
Yarrow from Russet helped clot anywhere the gums oozed and bled. He tried to explain to the badger what was happening, to keep her from lashing out.
Konal was quiet. He couldn’t face my actions any more than I could. Hue killed Fang because of him, no matter how much Konal blamed Chimera’s obsession with the warren. Konal had gotten them trapped.
Another brother died because of him. I held that thought, and let it condense into a painful bright ball. A small sun that he couldn’t bear to look at. It felt good to drive that monster off, even if it left only the numbness behind.
“Now, try not to swallow too much of this. You’ll be able to eat soft things by tomorrow or the day after, and should be back to normal in a quarter moon or so.” Sylvia finished her work on the badger, applying some extra thick poultice. “If we survive, I can take another look in a few days.”
The badger nodded and moved a little closer to me. “Upset. My name is Upset. You are not my prey. Do not be prey for despair.”
Any other day. Any other day, I’d be thrilled to have a badger offering condolences or kind words. For any other situation, her words would mean something. I sat up and turned my back. Not tense, but defeated. “My brother, Twitch, wished to live in a rabbit’s world. The cold should keep the meat safe to eat.”
Upset moved closer and switched back to the mustelid language. “You also lived in his world. Did he teach you this tongue?”
“His father taught us both.” I wanted to growl, snarl like a fox. “Taught him to… to be unable to hunt. He died because he wasn’t enough of a weasel to defend himself.”
“He will taste like a weasel and not a rabbit.” Upset settled next to me. “I spoke to rabbits, mostly outsiders, told them it was safe to talk to me. Killed a few. Melanie said it was dishonest. It was food. It was eating to survive. But only survival is not being oneself. I am not sure what that means without her.”
“Don’t trust us. You will die.” I wanted to lash out with my claws. I guess I was still enough of Blackfeather’s son that my sharpest claws were words. “You will become prey. Starve. And a predator will eat your body.”
“You think I gave you my name because I am no longer a predator?” she asked. “It is because your weakness is a strength I recognize. You will avenge your friend.”
“I will take them to death with me.” I nodded. “As you would have done for Melanie.”
“There was a time the warren might have thought that about me. Certainly some of the rabbits I killed had friends.” Upset sighed, her side brushing against mine. “Revenge is not the path of a predator. You fought me to save other rabbits; that is strength.”
I turned away from her again. “I couldn’t save him. Not from the foxes. Not from our friendship. Not from me.”
Upset got up and sat in front of me. She looked over my face and saw her pain in my eyes. “Did Twitch save you?”
“He saved them.” I gestured to where Russet and Sylvia were packing their herbs away.
“Then you saved him.” Upset nudged me with her nose. “Melanie saved me. She didn’t know, but I did not know joy or love until I met her. You are like her in that regard. Even now, you remind me there is more than death left for me.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
I tried to scream at her, but all that came out was a squeak.
“Find your strength again. It is still there.”
Russet hopped over. “Come on, we should get underground. We’re only a few bounds from safety.”
I ran my claws through Twitch’s fur one last time. “Take good care of him. May... May he sustain you.”
We left Twitch’s body with the badger. I carried his death with me.
The forest was still and silent, with sparse patches of snow that hadn’t yet melted. The sky was dark and cloudy, a bleak day in many ways. The space between the trees felt emptier, knowing Twitch would not be in his burrow when we arrived. A second snowfall began.
The familiar outcropping of rock was close, with the entrance still dug out from the morning. The last mark Twitch made on his home. One that would be gone when things melted. My guilt said I was no longer welcome. It told me to lie down and let myself be covered in snow. Freeze with Konal, as I should have done long ago on the river bank. Rebel would not save me this time. Nor that black rabbit.
Russet called to the mice. His voice never wavered, filled with soft warm tones and the confidence of a leader. “Nero, I have bad news about Twitch. We ran into the foxes in the forest. He gave his life so the three of us could escape.”
The three mice nodded solemnly and one of Nero’s brothers squeaked to other mice still inside. They filled the tiny ledges of the rock, poking out of every tunnel to hear the news.
Sylvia explained, “He died saving our lives. He was a hero.”
One of the mice, not one I’d seen before, asked, “Who will keep the predators away from us now?”
“I will do what I can in my brother’s absence,” Russet offered.
There should have been pain. Numb, I stumbled into the burrow to escape the emotions and more grieving. The mice should hate me for getting Twitch killed. I should hate myself. But as I lay in the dark, there was nothing but loss. Even the remnants of Twitch’s scent could not reach me.
In the past, if I had a fear or pain I could not face as a rabbit, I imagined myself as a fox. A predator’s gaze gave perspective. This time, thinking of myself as a fox had caused the problem.
Thankfully, Russet and Sylvia entered before my emotions returned.
“Bremen, it wasn’t you,” Russet repeated. “Konal forced you to do it. Caught you by surprise. But you can fight him. Basil saw the fox inside you. You may be the only one who can fight them.”
Do I sound that hollow when I offer hope?
“With what?” I was sick of being told I was special. That my fox-soul, real or not, made me important. “With some half-forgotten memories of a fox? You know Blackfeather. Do you really think he didn’t want me to be Bremen badly enough that he might have slipped?”
“He’s your father; he couldn’t do that.”
“I am not the fox my father knew. I am not my father. If he were here, Twitch would be alive and Chimera would already be driven off. Perhaps the owls, or a bear, or Upset would have helped him.” I lashed out; I needed to hurt someone so I wouldn’t feel helpless. “But I can’t be him. I can’t live up to his expectations, his example, or his code!”
“He didn’t ask you to.” Russet didn’t flinch. “We chose that when we found Rebel.”
“He didn’t have to,” I snarled. “We grew up with stories of his adventures and how he saved the warren. How could we not have wanted that?”
“He gave you a choice.” Russet sat back and licked his forepaws. “None of your siblings followed you.”
“They weren’t albinos!”
“Regardless of your soul, your spirit is a trickster. That drove you to this life, not any stories your father told. Of adventures or Bremen.”
Angry as I was, the truth would not be denied. Be he many things, my father was terrified of storytelling being used to harm. The rage faded and left the realization I had wanted to hurt Russet. At least I didn’t call him prey.
Sylvia nudged my side. “Fang couldn’t change Fig, not completely. My cousin is still in there.”
“And Cinnamon almost bested Talus,” Russet added. “Which means you can beat Konal. We’ll find the right trick to stop them. We always do.”
“How do you know? How can you know?” I grunted. “It’s hard to tell where I end and he begins. It’s worse than a story. At least then I’d be aware he was telling it.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sylvia asked.
I let out a sigh. Before Twitch’s death, I would have loved the idea of dancing through Sylvia’s questions, teasing out her curiosity and seeing if she would join our order as Russet’s mate. The thought of storytelling made me feel sick. Simply knowing about it got him killed. If he wasn’t a rabbit’s friend, he would have been healthy enough to dodge, and he wouldn’t have been there to begin with.
“Russet, we need to plan for tomorrow—or tonight, if I fall asleep early. Keep it short.”
“With everything that happened today, I wanted to ask you to join us.” Russet flicked his ears with excitement. “Would you like to be a storyteller?”
“But I’m not good at telling stories,” Sylvia objected.
“I’m sorry, this is all wrong.” Russet flattened his ears. “Normally, we’d let you ask questions, but we’re pressed for time. One question of mine then: Why did you heal Upset?”
“She needed help.” Sylvia pondered. “She was willing to talk and face what she’d done. She understood what I was doing was an act of kindness, and perhaps she’d spare the warren if we survive the foxes. No, that’s wrong. I knew she’d die if that wound got infected, and if it took a long time to heal, she’d probably die from the winter. Twitch no longer needed my help, and I just needed to do something.”
I wasn’t ready for that thought. Maybe there was still time to help the others. The hope hurt as it tried to take root, and I pushed it away.
“You wanted to help. Even after what she’s done, you thought she could be a friend. We’re a group that holds warrens together. Mostly rabbits, although there are a few predators in it. We find friends where we can, even if not everyone can be.”
“So, you’re tricksters?”
“Yes.” Russet explained, “We step out of the twilight of a rabbit’s world, facing exposure by Lord Sun and the hidden predators of Lady Moon. We guard against fear and deal with predators, mostly by tricks. Sometimes we fail, sometimes there is no alternative to death, but we always try other ways. Though friends may die by fang and claw, the warren lives on through hope and stories.”
I winced at the words. The foxes destroyed hope, killed my brother, and, according to Chimera’s most recent vision, I’d be bearing my throat to them soon enough. I couldn’t stop Konal; he was already inside me.
Sylvia nudged Russet. “So, what did Belenus mean by Sathe being trapped in a story?”
“We use stories to encourage. We use them to bring comfort.” Russet hesitated. “We use them to control and warp the perceptions of our enemies. Bremen and I are capable of it. I’m sure Cinnamon could.”
“Like an herb?” Sylvia fidgeted nervously. “I think there’s a mushroom mix that does that.”
“It’s similar to what you can do with psilocybe,” Russet said, “but that has to be eaten. This can be done with simple conversation.”
“Like now?”
“Mostly.” Russet explained, “Generally, if you have to think about the statements or interrupt to ask questions, it won’t work. But that would prevent the story from giving you hope.”
“Like the mushrooms, it has to be given in a specific way.” Sylvia shivered. “The secret is how easy it is. No rare herbs, no prep time, you could dose an entire warren at once. The only way to stop it would be to stop stories. Everyone would be stressed and afraid, like... Foxvale.”
“That’s right,” Russet said. “Some groups might trust enough to stay together, maybe even keep a warren going, but it wouldn’t be a rabbit warren.”
“You could prepare them.” Sylvia insisted, “We are strong enough to handle that.”
I grunted. “Twitch wasn’t strong enough. Being friends with a rabbit killed him. Killed Bremen, and will probably kill Upset. And rabbits, sometimes the stories never come back for them. Like living in Foxvale, even without the foxes.”
“Bremen!” Russet sighed, unable to deny my words. He continued, “There’s also the danger of someone like Chimera using storytelling. If he could make Cinnamon lure rabbits away from the warren in groups. Make them believe the foxes were friends. You’d have rabbits lined up, unaware that some vanished as the foxes chose victims.”
Sylvia’s voice was quiet. “Have you seen such a thing?”
“Not like that, but…” Russet whimpered. “Belenus spoke of her son, Sathe. He was held as a slave by a rogue storyteller, who used the owl as his personal assassin. Blackthorn used storytelling to make certain thoughts against the rules. At the Blackwood warren, hope wasn’t crushed: it was the king’s claws. Thankfully, Bremen’s father deposed him.”
My father never did tell us about what happened there. Another set of secrets and lies behind his friendly face. He mentioned what little fox-Bremen saw, the initial meeting. Sathe tearing my side with his talons. That was okay to explain. Was the whole society my father preached a story he made up?
Sylvia flattened herself on the ground. “What now?”
Russet lowered his head, but his voice was clear. “I’m asking you to trust me, now that you know the benefits and dangers of that trust.”
“Because I stayed with you last winter?”
“Because you have shown bravery and strength. You faced owls, foxes and a badger today. You helped me back away from the vision at the cliff. You make me a better rabbit, and I hope I can do that for you.” Russet took a breath. “And, I love you. And, I want to know if that love will endure the winter and the coming spring. And, that means showing you who and what I am. The good and the bad.”
He added, “We did tell King Oakbud first.”
“I hope you didn’t give him a speech like that.” Sylvia nosed Russet and licked the top of his head. “I’m not going to share you with him.”
Laughter choked with tears filled the burrow. It scraped against my ears like they were being ripped. I had heard a speech like that before and I wasn’t able to reciprocate. The first time I truly hurt Twitch.
I choked out, “Russet, you know Twitch and I–”
“He loved you in a way you couldn’t love him back.” Russet nodded. “He told me, brother. And he never blamed you for it. He was grateful you gave him as much as you did.”
The numbness cracked. Twitch’s last words repeated themselves. Don’t let Konal take my world. The world where he was a friend, a companion, a brother.
I sobbed. “Konal got Fang killed by Hue. I don’t know how it happened. Because I felt sorry for him, because he wanted to protect Fang, he got past my defenses. Thinking he could help us got Twitch killed.” I choked on my tears. “If I had just hated him.”
“Bremen, you know that’s not true,” Russet insisted. “Everyone is a friend. Some have merely lost their way. Even you.”
“I don’t need my dad’s empty philosophy,” I whimpered.
Russet nodded. His ears swiveled toward Sylvia. “I can tell the story of Whitepaw. She can see how bad storytellers get and I will remind you of what you said about trust. That is, if you both trust me.”
“Of course,” Sylvia answered.
I looked at my remaining brother. Russet stood firmly in the world of storytellers. At that moment, I wished I could. I nodded and, as my tears slowed, asked in a small kit-like voice, “Little brother, give me hope. Tell me a story.”