The small side-alcove of Twitch’s burrow surrounded me with his scent. Russet and Sylvia were outside preparing the Seerleaf, and that left me trying to calm down enough to dream. I didn’t want to sleep; I wanted to fight, to tear Konal apart and then save Foxvale.
My shoulder ached. It wasn’t a physical pain; the wound had healed. Yet, as I attempted to rest, I could feel Konal tugging on the spiritual injury. He was waiting for me, perhaps stronger with the fourth day so close. I couldn’t fight him, but maybe I could learn something or find something that would give Russet and Sylvia a chance.
My ears twitched from everything that had happened. Breathing calmly wasn’t enough to relax, and Konal might as well be in the burrow with me. If I fell asleep, he’d attack before I realized it was a dream. I wanted this to be over, but there was so much farther to go.
Thinking about Spike, perhaps I could narrate myself asleep. If we were going to fight, that might let me choose where. Reminding myself it was a dream, I described the forest outside. I wanted to be fox-Bremen, but my white fur would blend into the snow better.
Slowly, the forest took shape around me. Ground covered with snow, barren trees reaching for the sky above me. My senses began to pick up details I didn’t add. The occasional leaf that poked out of the snow, the wet scent of bark, the thin trail of blood from the bite on my shoulder. An easy trail for Konal to track. At least I knew I was dreaming. Best to get going.
I sniffed as best I could and tried to remember how to track. Perhaps I just imagined I knew where I was going and the dream made it so. Although I felt the snow crunch lightly under-paw, the only trail I left was my blood. The snow deepened a little. The light faded to dusk. With luck, I crossed into one of Konal’s memories.
Four foxes, three males and a vixen, chased a squealing injured rat past me. They were barking information to each other, who should go left and who right, calling for the smallest to keep up. None heard the pleas of the rat. I attempted to stop them, but as sometimes happens in dreams, I couldn’t run fast enough.
After the kill, the four of them talked over the dead rat. A young Konal insisted, “Chiron, if you can’t keep up, maybe you should start out ahead and we can chase them into you.”
The runt, Chiron, looked shamed. I–Konal wasn’t trying to upset him. He was attempting to encourage the small fox. I settled on the snow, ignored by the memory.
Chiron whimpered, “I thought we would all hunt, then share what we found.”
Fang growled, “Go off by yourself, then.”
“Fang!” Konal snapped, then sighed. “Food has been scarce since before fall, and it’s been worse since winter started.”
Chiron was almost adorable when he objected. “If we could just–”
“Eat rabbits,” Fang interrupted. “Rabbits, rabbits, rabbits. What did that warren do to you?”
“Nothing!” Chiron whimpered. “They’re a large warren, and they’re exposed.”
Konal knew it was a lie. All of them did, but the more they pried, the less Chiron would say.
Talus, at least, knew how to explain things. “They’re too well organized. Every predator in the area has been harassing them, and they’re going to do something drastic.”
“Besides,” Konal added, “we’re starting to look worthwhile to the bigger predators.”
“Should we live like rabbits?!” Chiron snapped, snarling. “Live in fear of being eaten; running for our lives?”
Konal dipped his head and nudged the smaller fox in a surprisingly gentle gesture. “We are a pack. As a group, we’re stronger.”
I stuck my head in the snow, but couldn’t block the feelings from the dream-memory. Chiron was a monster, not young or vulnerable. Konal felt pity for him, but Chimera was something darker than that young, innocent... I didn’t want to feel sympathy; I didn’t want Konal’s feelings. I needed to hate them to have the strength to win.
The wind shifted, filled with new scents. Talus caught it first and was on her feet before the others. The smell of the kill was strong, but behind it was the slightest hint of wolf.
The pack fled. I followed as best I could, resisting the urge to tell them it was a trap. Not that it would have changed what happened. We fell for it; they fell for it.
The wolves were waiting for them. The scout drove them right into the main group by letting his scent get caught. Konal turned sharply to the side before they were surrounded. Forcing the wolves to give chase.
Chiron lagged behind, as always. I recognized the wolf bearing down on him. Regent. This was Rebel’s pack. How long ago was it? Was Rebel with them? Was Konal about to do something stupid?
“Keep going,” Konal shouted to Fang and Talus before he turned back.
The large wolf snapped at Chiron’s tail, then lunged forward. Barely ahead of the jaws, Konal knocked Chiron away. In response, the wolf’s teeth found Konal’s rear haunch.
Shared pain tore along my leg, our legs. Konal and I collapsed as one. Desperate, we dragged ourselves along the ground as our pack-mates fled. The wolves circled around us. There was nowhere to go.
“Brother!” Fang howled.
“Go!” we howled back.
Regent approached, sniffing at the trail of blood we left. “Giving your life for your friend. For that, I will make this quick.”
“Father?” A young Rebel, only two or three seasons old, walked out of the circle. He approached Konal, but looked at me instead. “Father, do you see the ghost rabbit? His shoulder is bleeding.” Shoulder? Was it possible he could see me?
Konal frantically glared in my direction. “There’s no need to insult me.”
“It’s not right to kill him.” Rebel stepped between Regent and Konal. “He isn’t prey and he won’t properly feed us.”
“Get out of the way,” Regent growled.
“This one must not die here.” As he continued, his voice grew more distant and his body started to list. “He has a role, a story to be told. The ghost rabbit,” Rebel paused, having trouble standing. “The rabbit needs–” With a sigh, Rebel’s body fell to the ground, as his spirit remained standing.
Regent rushed forward, a little too slow to catch his son. After making sure Rebel’s body was breathing, he growled, “Go, little fox. Before I change my mind.”
In the vision, the young Rebel watched with me. I stammered, “You can’t be here.”
He loomed over me; even as a young wolf, he was still twice my height. “Old friend I’ve just met, I will be responsible for your death. My first vision of a white rabbit will take the life of a fox.”
“Your brother took his life, and it was an accident,” I said. “I met you after you grew up. But are you him, or is this another part of the dream?”
In response, he sniffed at the snow and at my shoulder. “As a child, this was a vision of what might occur. In the future, this is a visit from my spirit. Perhaps my older self is simply reminiscing with you about this vision. If you survive this, you will have to ask me.”
My shoulder throbbed. My stomach felt unsettled. But this was a matter for seers and I needed help. At least, as the memory faded away, so did the memory of the bite on my haunch. Konal’s haunch. I wasn’t injured. “Do you know who I am?”
“At the moment, I know better than you do.” He sniffed me again and examined my shoulder before walking off. “We don’t have much time.”
We headed into my memories, past the stream that runs by Hazelford, and toward the bramble ring the storytellers gather in. The trees regained some leaves, and Lord Sun retraced his steps from dusk to mid-day. A memory of Russet joined us, talking about a payment he had given a sparrow. It was just before we left for Foxvale. So close to that day, except for the thin trail of blood that my shoulder left.
A hiss sent me jumping in the air. A horrible hiss of pain and fear, a snake that was unsure of who was there and what the unknown would bring. I can’t believe he got me again. He was where I remembered, a familiar black garter snake nursing a dull bite bruise on his tail.
“Hello Lutin,” I said. “Still upset about the bite?”
Almost a whimper, if a snake could make that noise, the response came, “It hurts...”
“It’s a rabbit bite, Lutin,” Russet offered. “We’re not venomous.”
“It hurts.” He looked at us with unblinking eyes; one clear, one clouded from an old injury. His voice wavered with emotion. “Maybe he was rabid?”
“She, Lutin,” I corrected. “And Captain Pine is overzealous, but not rabid.”
The younger Rebel asked, “What happened to make him like this? Was it when his eye was blinded?”
The memory continued without me, as Russet offered to stay. I explained to Rebel, “I’m not sure; he’s never told us. He was worse when we first met him, though. He’s a good herbalist; trades a lot at these meetings.”
Lutin curled under the brambles as my memory of Russet checked his wounds. Lutin answered a question I only asked the first time through. “Blackfeather is with Rebel at the center.”
“Thank you,” I responded. I looked at the young Rebel as we headed toward my father. “I guess they can’t see you.”
“Of course not. This is a memory.”
We entered the large, familiar opening in the center of the bramble. A grown Rebel was lounging in the half-sun, talking to an older white rabbit, my father.
“Hello Bremen,” Blackfeather called to us. “Anything interesting happen?”
“I met a sparrow from a warren called Foxvale. He had a message for a white rabbit and said that Foxvale needed stories.” I think I used the same words as the first time I was there. Even a second time through, I was nervous. Would he let me go? Would he send someone else?
My father sat up and folded his forelegs behind his back, causing both Rebel’s to wince. “But if you go to help Foxvale, who will make sure the Winter Wolf doesn’t harass Hazelford?”
Even though I was about to see my third winter, my father always made me feel like everything was a game. Why couldn’t he take me seriously? At least this was a game I knew the rules for.
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“Rebel,” I asked the older wolf, “can I trust you not to eat any rabbits while I’m gone?”
“I suppose.” The wolf yawned and gave me a friendly lick. “Foxvale... I have a feeling you’ll find something important there.”
I flicked my ears toward Rebel. Although I remembered his answer, I still asked, “Have you had a vision about it?”
Rebel frowned, and his eyes looked through me. He focused on his younger self. Was that where he looked when I first asked? His voice was closer than I remembered, as if from the vision itself. “I was there at the darkest time. I am there now, when we first met. You need to forgive—yourself, your family and your friends.” The vision passed and Rebel seemed normal again. “I’m sorry. Was I saying something?”
As the memory continued, and my father talked to me about fast ways to travel north, it faded slowly. The young Rebel looked over his older self, sniffing his fur. “I live with rabbits when I’m older? I knew my father would be forced to exile me, but I never expected this.”
“You don’t actually live here.” I wondered if I should explain things, but I guessed it was okay. “You’re a lone wolf who makes a journey here at the end of every fall, in addition to whenever you want company.”
“That’s who I appear to be. My father will have to exile me when I come of age. But that is not who he is. And an exile is not who I am,” young Rebel observed. “Is this who you are? You comfort a snake. Playfully talk to a wolf. Traveled far away to save a warren you had not seen.”
“What? Of course?”
“Yes, but no.” The young Rebel nodded as we walked out of that memory. “Those are things you’ve done. It’s not the how that will save you, but the why.”
“Rebel, please,” I growled. “My brother is dead; a fox in this vision wants to take over my body; and there are three foxes outside who will destroy a warren if we can’t do this. Can you tell me what you mean?”
Rebel gave a thoughtful look. “First, why are you in this vision?”
“When Konal died, he was trapped in a powerful seer’s vision. Later, another seer found a way to let them out, but Konal has to best me before he can leave.” I sighed. “He’s too strong, and getting stronger.”
“This vision is angry.” He sniffed my shoulder, then the trail of blood I was leaving. He scratched at the ground. “He is trapped in the pain and fear of death. He has to make you feel the same pain and fear. No matter how intelligent he seems to be, no matter how calm or rational he appears on the outside, he is wounded and trapped. He will lash out and your anger will only feed him.”
“I’m not...” I flattened my ears. “I got Twitch killed. Even if it wasn’t my fault, how am I supposed to come to terms with that right now?”
“Then we will find Twitch,” Rebel said, as if that was a thing that could happen. “Unfortunately, this is a vision of dying, not a vision of Death.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a trap. He’s held at the moment of death and can’t move on.” Rebel sniffed and studied things as we walked. “It is held together by a rabbit’s soul. She also cannot move on.”
I knew Konal was trapped, but I didn’t want to feel sympathy. He was a monster. He was the monster that got Twitch killed; the monster that used my voice to do it. I didn’t want a reason for his behavior. I needed him to be Whitepaw, without concern for what was right or wrong.
In time, the leaves fell from the trees until the branches were bare. We headed back to winter, snow growing out of the ground. The smooth snow showed no tracks except my blood. Rebel took another look at the red trail.
“The vision will lead you to each other, even without your wound.” Rebel looked at me, then ran off. “I have an idea.”
I followed. “Where are we going?”
“This place has weak points. Where Konal can leave or others can enter. You are one of them.” He looked around, meandering between trees and through underbrush. “If you lead to the real world, then one might lead somewhere else.”
“Like death? So he can pass from this life?”
“Perhaps,” Rebel pondered. “Do you have any link to Death?”
“He said I touched Death before and that was how I could resist. But, I’m no seer.”
“It’s not about seers,” Rebel corrected me. “I can see trails that connect you to the End of All Things. Have you met Death before? Perhaps another life?”
“Twitch died earlier today.” My shoulder surged with pain. An awkward moment passed before I continued, “I may be a fox who asked to be reborn as a rabbit. And there was this black rabbit when we first met...”
“Your brother is in your heart; he will have the answer.” Rebel stopped. “I lost the trail.”
“Maybe I am standing in the way,” came a voice from behind me. Konal.
I started; a quick hop, twisting my upper-body around. The snow covered the trees and brush, hiding almost the whole forest underneath. Konal emerged from the branches; they parted, undisturbed by his passing.
“This is my home,” he growled. “I know all the paths. I am everywhere.”
“This is another’s vision. She made the rules.” Rebel leapt between us. He snarled, rapidly growing in size. “Go, ghost rabbit. Follow the path to Death.”
Konal lunged at me, but Rebel knocked him to the side. They glared and snarled at each other before connecting again. In the vision, they were both the same size; Konal had grown. He was clearly in no danger from Rebel, but was unable to push past. I didn’t have time to figure things out.
I ran, and Konal couldn’t follow.
Away from the struggle, I almost looked for a place to hide, but I needed to find Twitch or something to connect with Death or whatever Rebel had meant. I wasn’t sure where I was going. Twitch died because I let Konal win. The feelings had been buried in my shock, and I ran to unearth them. They grasped at me, a tangible fog of shame and failure.
Some failures were more solid than others. I was helpless when he was starving, unable to hunt. I was useless when Fang bit him. I hurt him when I couldn’t love him as more than a friend. Twitch died because he was my brother.
After all that, he didn’t blame me. With him gone, I couldn’t apologize. I couldn’t admit to him that it was my fault.
Somehow, I ended up back at the snow-covered clearing where Twitch’s burrow stood abandoned. Like before, the entrance was solid rock.
The memories of Twitch were stronger at the stone. The pain was stronger, too. Knowledge that I was helpless and weak. I couldn’t protect him. I’d been used because I felt sympathy for Konal.
The fear of death filled me. The other rabbits had to fear death before the foxes could take over. The foxes were afraid of dying when they fell from the cliff. Dying was not the part I feared. I feared what might happen to those I cared for if I failed. I was afraid of being trapped; of being used to hurt my friends.
“Forgive yourself.”
I turned quickly to face a transparent weasel with a bloodless bite around his midsection. “Twitch?”
“Mostly,” he said. “Brother, you have so much emotion tied up in the memory of my death that you don’t have anything left. Not hating yourself doesn’t mean you don’t care about me. It won’t mean that I wasn’t your brother. All it will let you do is remember me properly.”
I turned back toward the entrance. The wall was my fear and pain. My paws rested on the cold stone, and I faced my feelings.
“I miss you, brother. I’m sorry I made you leave. If I could have just loved you as you needed.” Why was that at the forefront? “I should have been there for you. Should have found you earlier. I knew something was wrong, but I thought you needed time away from me. I thought my presence was painful. That my friendship was made of thorns.”
“No, brother,” Twitch whispered to me. “You had to be yourself. Forcing yourself to be someone for my sake would have made us both miserable. I got to hold you one last time. It was enough.”
The pain drained from the stone and passed through me. As I broke down and cried, underneath the tears, was forgotten strength. I had others who needed me. I may have failed, but I had to get up and save Russet and Sylvia and Foxvale.
Rebel was right. I had forgotten who I was. I had to make this vision into my world. I had to play into Konal’s care for his brother. If I could make that stronger than the fear, I would win. We–We would win.
“Twitch, I need your strength to protect Russet. I need your strength to stop Konal. I need your strength to forgive myself.”
“I was shocked when you said I had a prey’s soul.” Twitch sounded like he was right in front of me. “But, no matter how Konal meant it, I’ve come to terms with that part of myself. You need carry no guilt for speaking the truth.”
It was a kick in my gut, but it felt like something dislodged. I opened my eyes and the solid rock was gone, revealing Twitch in the entrance to his burrow. I collapsed on him and we cried together for what felt like forever.
“I’m sorry I left,” Twitch said finally. “I should have handled it better. It’s not like it was a rejection. You still wanted me as your brother. Can you forgive me?”
“It wasn’t you.”
“If I had stayed, if I had let you help me, if we had continued to train together, perhaps I would have been strong or quick enough to avoid Fang.” Twitch nudged me with his head. “I wallowed for almost a season. Fretted about what I was, about having a prey’s soul. I ignored your support, and that’s my fault.”
“But I–”
“Bremen,” Twitch insisted, “allow yourself to be upset that I left without a word, so you can move past it. No matter whose fault it was, it caused you pain.”
“It was my fault that you left. Not yours.” My shoulder throbbed again, a fresh trail of blood appearing from it to wherever Konal was. “My fault you got killed.”
“You’re bleeding. We don’t have much time, do we?” Twitch pulled away slowly. “Before we go, I have a message from the Bloodied Weasel. You know him as the Black Rabbit.” He took a breath and paused to get the wording right. “Have a vision of Death’s name, He will allow them to pass on. Tell Russet: Death hides under the soil between ferns, ginger, and lilies.”
I repeated it to myself a few times. Russet should know what was meant, but only if I got the words correct. “Why doesn’t Death take them on his own?”
“This place is beyond Death; they have to be freed from it first,” Twitch explained. “I’m only here because we’re of the same blood. That, and what happens to my soul will depend on if you survive. I don’t understand it, but that’s what He told me.”
“I don’t want to be responsible for your soul.” I nudged him firmly. “I’ve hurt you enough.”
“Brem,” Twitch said, “I was a scavenger, eating leftovers from Rebel’s old pack. I had a prey’s soul, and I made peace with that. At least this way, I can help you beat Konal.”
I winced at that. My father’s philosophy gave him that prey’s soul, robbed him of the predator he should have been. Rather than face that truth, I started following the trail of blood. It was time to deal with Konal. “It would have been better to help you.”
“Some things are beyond a story’s ability to fix.” He trotted lightly along with me. “Perhaps my next life will be better.”
“I wish we had more time.” I explained as we traveled, “Rebel is here. From when he was with his pack. He entered the vision and prevented Konal from following me to you.”
He laughed and choked on tears at the same time. “Too bad Russet isn’t here for one more adventure.”
The two of us made our way through the forest; the final journeys of two brothers together one last time. My heart knew there would not be another; win or lose, he would be gone.
We continued through the snow. The blood trail appeared in front of us. A red line that connected Konal to me.
The sounds of the scuffle carried through the otherwise still woods. No words were needed; we split up, circling on opposite sides. I broke through the snow-covered branches first. Konal, still the size of an adult wolf, swiped at the smaller but elusive seer. Rebel looked tired and scuffed, but not injured..
I skidded to a halt and called, “Konal, I’m the one you want!”
Konal looked at me. “Not today, rabbit. I’ll kill your friends first, then you.”
The words still hurt; memories of my failure came back and created a flash of anger and pain. No more rabbit, I willed myself to be fox-Bremen. Fox-paws, fox-muzzle visible in front of my eyes, my fox-body rushed forward, no longer concerned with anything but hurting Konal and saving my friends.
The three of us circled Konal. One of us would get a clean strike at his back. Maybe reopen the wound in his leg.
“They’ll die,” came from somewhere.
I butted my head into Konal’s side. Twitch lunged as Konal gasped for breath, sinking tiny claws and teeth into his hind-leg. It delayed Konal’s reaction enough so Rebel pounced, biting the back of his neck. Konal rolled to dislodge the wolf. We jumped back to avoid being crushed.
“Because of your anger.”
As I landed, I found myself face to face with a white rabbit. I ignored him as Konal stood. Sped by anger, powered by pain and loss, he lunged like a coiled snake. Konal’s maw caught Twitch and threw the weasel into the air. Rebel ducked to the side, only to have Konal’s paw strike and send him skidding along the snow-covered ground.
“Forgive yourself, your family, your friends.”
Suddenly, the snow seemed deep and wet. It clung to my legs, too heavy to pull them out. Rebel slid to a stop, and the built-up snow held him like mud. Twitch fell and Konal rushed underneath, mouth open. I struggled, but my legs couldn’t break through the grasping snow. My friends would die because they came to help me. They were here because of me. It was happening again.
“Wake up!”
I had to remember the feel of my body. Stop moving with my mind and get my real limbs to respond. My eyes fluttered, flashing between the sight of Sylvia while they were open, to the vision of Twitch plummeting to his second death while closed.
I couldn’t let Twitch die again.
Thankfully, Sylvia realized something was wrong and called my name. Shaking me, the sensations grounded my mind in the waking world. The vision slowed, becoming less and less real. It wasn’t a matter of awake or asleep. I was both, both were there. I simply, finally, forced the physical to come into focus. The vision wasn’t gone, but it could not harm them. Not yet.