Konal was happy to get out into the midnight air. He finally had enough room to move if he needed to become a fox. Although, several tiny hops out of the burrow, Konal lost his balance and landed face-first in the snow.

The senses of his new rabbit-body were different from what he was used to. Every sound felt loud, and his instincts made him want to jump away. His nose was dulled in that he couldn’t find trails of scents with it, but also alert, every scent a potential predator sneaking up behind him. His eyes saw a wider field, but he couldn’t judge distance with them. When I tried to explain his ears and whiskers could help, he wasn’t ready to listen.

The forest was worse. As a fox, there was potential for food. As a rabbit, there was only danger. He understood I was afraid, but I had tricks and tactics to survive. Konal didn’t care. If danger arrived, he’d simply transform.

Konal kept telling his body to walk, but it needed to hop. If only his legs were all the same size, that’d be so much easier. Still, he kept at it. If he wanted to survive, he’d need both forms. Fang didn’t understand his rabbit body, and Konal would not keep embarrassing himself like that.

A few small hops into the small clearing outside the burrow, then a few larger ones to the edge. Our body knew how to move; all Konal had to do was not fight it. But struggle he did. He had to remember his fox instincts, keep them as well as the rabbit-body.

The conflict distracted him and allowed Russet to approach unobserved. “Do you want help?”

Konal started a full length in the air and landed hard on his side.

Sylvia approached. Both rabbits waited for him to answer. They didn’t laugh; Konal would have preferred that. They looked at him with pity; pity for the poor crippled fox.

“I don’t need your help. I’m fine!”

“The question was one of want,” Russet stated, ears toward Konal. “You are new to being a rabbit, true, but if you want to do it on your own, I’ll respect that.”

“How hard can it be?” Konal snapped back, making a good attempt to struggle to his feet. “You go out; you get eaten. You have warnings about everything. Everything! Every scent, sight, noise!”

“We do feel fear differently.” Russet gave a short nod. “Warnings happen. When something is really dangerous, it will start in your gut and freeze your limbs. They will tighten until they stop moving and you collapse. If that happens, focus on being a fox; that’s how Bremen kept his own fear away. If it’s that bad, please, let him help you.”

Konal didn’t respond. He groomed himself for comfort.

Suddenly, a low, unfamiliar sound struck him. Not through the air, but a curious feeling that his feet and whiskers picked up. “What–”

Russet and Sylvia were already running in the direction it came from. Unsure, Konal hopped after them. The hops were easier this time; curiosity and concern united us for a moment.

Surrounded by trees, an older doe—Lily, I explained—sat on her hind legs, listening and looking around. She was about to stamp a second time when Russet ran in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Russet cried, shaking from nerves. “Everyone can hear that!”

“You were gone all day!” She snapped back. “Thank Prince Twilight you’re safe. I knew you came to the woods, but I couldn’t find you. So, I thought if I stamped you’d hear me.”

Konal smirked at how the doe had faced her fear. Useless, but heroic.

“The foxes could have heard you,” Russet said. “Let’s get back to the warren. Things will be over in the morning, for better or worse.”

“Everyone should leave,” said Konal. “The foxes won’t attack tonight.”

“No.” Lily’s voice was final. “If I am to die, it will be in my warren.”

Sylvia nodded. “This is our home. Anyone willing to leave already tried, and the foxes killed them for it. We need safety, and the warren is all the safety we have left.”

Konal almost felt something for their resolve. Still, it would not save them. Not from the foxes. Not from the badger he noticed sneaking up behind Lily.

On another day, I would have been fast enough to knock her out of the way. Without thinking, I managed to get our body halfway to her before Konal tried to pull back—or help rush forward, he wasn’t sure. Either way, we tripped over our own feet and crashed into her. I tried to give Konal my knowledge of how to defend himself, how to kick, how to scramble away, but he was tangled in both conflicting instincts and Lily.

The badger pounced. Russet was only a heartbeat behind us and kicked the badger’s muzzle hard enough for her to stop and consider if we were worth the trouble.

A second badger knocked the first one to the side, and the two of them struggled. I tried to explain to Konal the second badger was Upset. She shouted, “Not them.”

“Talker,” spat the first badger.

“No.” Upset explained, “The white one is dangerous. Made himself look helpless then kicked me, messed up my jaw. The female with the pouch fixed my teeth after. Hunt others, not them.”

The first badger approached Upset and licked some fresh blood off her muzzle. “It’s an impressive injury. I’m Terse. If you survive winter, maybe we will talk again.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Konal and Lily stunned and staring at what happened. Sylvia hopped between them and the badger. Russet grumbled about being out of Pepperpuff, but slowly relaxed.

Upset turned to the rabbits, but kept her distance.

“Thank you,” Sylvia said. “How is your jaw? Will the other badger be mad?”

“Jaw sore. She liked injury,” replied Upset, before switching to back to Mustelid. “Melanie would want me to move on, find new love and new joy. Terse can clearly take a kick. Perhaps I will try.”

“She said they’re going to get along,” Russet translated, then asked, “Will we always be not prey?”

“Just here,” Upset said in Lapine. “If find mate, we go away. Before little badgers.”

Sylvia relaxed a little and hopped up to Upset to check her teeth.

Lily finally recovered enough to say something. “Sylvia, what’re you doing? That’s her mouth.”

I laughed and used Konal’s shock to say, “Not all the heroes are dead. Not us, not Sylvia, and not you, Lily.”

“I’m no hero,” Lily objected. “I’m not the one healing a badger.”

“But you came here to find us,” Russet insisted. “You faced Chimera, the head of the foxes, and survived. You can argue if those actions make you a true hero or not, but they are the actions a hero would take.”

“You’re stronger than anyone I know,” Sylvia agreed. “When the storytellers were killed, it was your optimism and hope that kept many of us going. You were unbreakable in your resolve and it was enough. Once the foxes are gone, we’ll need your strength to help rebuild.”

Upset laughed. “Brave and stupid is hero.”

Sylvia finished up her examination. “The swelling has already gone down a little. I’ll look for you tomorrow, if we survive.”

Konal wanted to say something. He wasn’t sure if it was to reassure her or to let her know how unlikely survival was. None of them knew he didn’t want to stay and die, but he did want to know what his pack had done in his absence. He mumbled, “I’ll meet you back at the warren.” Before awkwardly hopping away.

He heard Lily ask, “Will he be okay?” and the murmur of platitudes from Russet and Sylvia.

There was no okay. If Konal helped them, he’d die—again. If he did nothing, Chimera would lead his pack to ruin. The rabbits were weak, but they were desperate. And what would Chimera do when the warren was destroyed? Where would his obsession take him after? Would all of this simply happen again at some other warren? A terrible fate for his brother to be always under Chimera’s paw.

He stumbled into the snow again. Far enough away that, at least, the rabbits couldn’t see.

“Hey.”

The badger had caught up with him.

“Something else happened since your friend died,” she observed.

Konal didn’t answer.

“I want the foxes to die for killing Melanie, but I’m not strong enough. Certainly not with my injured jaw.” Upset settled in the snow next to Konal. “It freed me from the responsibility. I cannot stop them, but you are strong. You were strong when we first met.”

“And now I can’t even hop properly.”

Upset laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. “You were untested. No. You had never failed before. Your injury feels fresh and painful and new. But that’s all it is. An injury. Get up and be strong.”

“Not all injuries heal.”

“The injury from your friend’s death won’t heal. But, it will not stop you from being strong.” She sniffed over Konal, lingering on his shoulder. “Melanie’s death will always be with me. It will make me stronger. I hunted without honor before her. She gave me a reason.”

Konal winced. Chiron needed a reason, but the young fox had become something terrible. Konal had failed him long before the wolf injured him. “I am not strong enough. But, I have not allowed myself to be free. I have to try to save them.”

She asked, “Short time?”

Konal grunted and mumbled, “Short time, yes. I only have until Mother Sun returns before Death is here.”

“Take a moment, remember the strength you had before.” She nudged Konal’s side lightly. “Listen for it. It is still there.”

He drew a deep breath. The rabbit-body he was in knew how to run. He remembered it outran Fang, and with the merger, it seemed to have the stamina of a fox. All he had to do was stop fighting it. Accept the help the others were offering. But would that lead him to Death?

The rabbits had strength. They had killed him once. Better to run with it than run from it. He got to his feet, trembling. Would relying on a rabbit make him prey?

“Thank you,” Konal let me say. “If the foxes are still here after tomorrow, know they can take rabbit forms. If we survive, we’ll explain.”

“I only need to know if it’s over. Good luck, ghost rabbit.”

Konal nodded. “Thank you.”

Upset watched us as we took the time to remember. Fox and rabbit ran so differently, yet, we were together. The joy of chasing something as a fox mixed with the practice of running escape routes over and over until they were second nature.

We bolted. Faster together than we could ever be apart.

Talking to Chiron was essential. Even if he wanted to leave, that was a struggle he had to face. The rabbits were confident enough in their plan that they would offer Oakbud’s life. This would be his only chance to save Fang.

Memories flowed into his thoughts as he ran. The desolation his pack was causing, and Bremen’s experiences with them. The path to the fox-burrow. The old cave his pack lived in. Hue’s vision connected them, and despite how much things had grown and changed since he had died, Konal knew the way.

Konal approached the cave, and he could hear some arguing. Quietly, he crept inside.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“And you want us to live there?” Talus demanded.

“Of course.” Chimera let out a satisfied chuckle. “We’ll order rabbits into the central chamber when we want to play. The winter will keep them from throwing their lives away trying to leave.”

The absolute absurdity of that thought caused Konal to laugh. That and the stress of everything that had happened. He blurted out, “That’s your plan? To not only live as a rabbit while killing like a fox, but to let them know that’s what you are. All of that, ‘What did the warren do to you?’ and what? Deep down, you want their approval for your revenge? You really are Basil.”

“Basil is dead!” Chimera snarled back, a deep growl that felt like it shook the ground. “Come here, Bremen.”

Konal laughed again. Perhaps the command was based on fear, and at that moment, he wasn’t afraid. Perhaps I was helping him resist, or the command was aimed at the wrong animal. Something broke in Konal. There was no hint of the young fox he took in. Or the fox he taught to hunt. Or the leader who had bested Fang.

The fox Konal used to be, the uninjured warrior in his prime, came to mind. The rush of chasing down prey, the joy of fighting with his brother. He lunged forward, exchanging the rabbit-body for his fox-self, and snapped at Chimera’s throat.

Chimera stepped just out of Konal’s reach with a look of boredom.

Konal attempted a second lunge, but a deep pain in his hind leg made it impossible to move. Horror sunk in. He was still crippled. The injury was still there. Shaking, he turned his head to look and let out a mournful howl.

“Brother.” Fang nosed his side and repeated, “Brother! Please, calm down.”

As his howl died, Konal was unable to focus on anything but the pain in his leg. He changed in the burrow, with the rabbits. Had the bite been there and he didn’t notice because there wasn’t room to stand?

“Binding you to someone strong was a waste.” Chimera chuckled, “Is there time for Bremen’s fox-self to join us?”

Talus got to her feet. “Chiron! Konal is one of us.”

“My name is Chimera!” the smaller fox shouted at her. “Why is that so hard for you weaklings to understand?”

“I liked Chiron,” Talus cried. “I cared for him; I want him back!”

“And I want a competent pack!” Chimera snarled. “Not pathetic creatures who let the rabbit inside paralyze them with fear!”

Fang growled. “You were going to kill Konal!”

“Bah!” Chimera scoffed. “I barely bruised him. You let that weasel catch you.”

Konal had enough. He managed to stand, even if he was shaky. “Was it the rabbit inside you that let them have a day to recover?”

“That rabbit is dead,” Chimera repeated. “I suppose my old self felt sympathy for my pack. A moment of weakness that will not repeat.”

“Next time, you’ll just let Fang die?” Konal snapped.

“A second time will not happen,” Chimera said. “He will control himself if he wants to be useful to me.”

The conversation broke. The pack seethed quietly at each other. Fang in shame and humiliation at what happened and anger at being useless. Talus was lost in her care for Chiron. And Konal slowly understood that the young fox he wanted to be friends with was, in fact, no longer there. He wanted to tell them, to help Talus see that, but he couldn’t see a way. I tried to give what support I could, but forgiveness wasn’t what was needed.

Talus spoke first. “Can’t we just leave? We’re together.”

“Leave?” Chimera looked at Talus with a smirk. “Two seasons of joyous revenge and you want to skip the end? Or is Cinnamon still trying to save her father?”

“You’ve already decided what my answer is.” Talus folded her ears against her head.

Chimera locked eyes with Fang. “Do you think we should leave?”

“No, sir.” Fang dipped his head. “You want to stay. We should stay.”

Konal growled. “They have a plan! Maybe you can stop it, but why risk death?”

“They have no seer,” Chimera said. “They are no threat.”

“Funny that,” Konal replied. “Russet isn’t a seer tonight, but he will be, come dawn.”

“Not possible!” Chimera glared at Konal.

Konal stood his ground. “He made an herb called Seerleaf. They’re going to win tomorrow. They’re so sure they sent me here with a message.”

“Tell me!” The seer-command struck as Chimera loomed over Konal.

It was met by the combined will of Konal and me. “Not until you tell us what the warren did to you.”

“It’s not your concern,” Chimera growled, but turned away.

Konal hobbled forward on his injured leg. “If you want us to die for it a second time, it is our concern.”

“I said: No.”

“Fine,” Konal said, shifting back to my rabbit form. “They will meet you at dawn tomorrow, right outside. They’re going to bring Oakbud with them. If you truly need to break this warren, his death will do it.”

Talus started to say something, but Chimera interrupted.

“Don’t you dare, Cinnamon.” Chimera laughed. “It’s been so long, timing each death to bring the warren’s terror to a peak. Giving them a pattern, watching the horror of anticipation. Pushing things with fake prophecies and false hopes. I hoped Oakbud would die of despair. Tossing his lifeless corpse in front of the main entrance and declaring that we are now in charge of the warren will be so much better.”

Konal turned and kicked some dirt behind him. This was no longer his pack; Chiron was no longer his friend; helping them was no longer an option. He hopped toward the exit, but Fang blocked his way.

“Brother, where are you going?”

“I’m leaving; he can’t force me like he’s forcing you.” Ears down, teeth bared, he grunted at Chimera. “Chiron, your obsession is going to get you killed. I know it; Fang and Talus know it; the rabbits know it. I’m through.”

Konal turned to leave again. The pain and divided loyalties in Fang’s eyes called to him. Fang needed his brother to stay. Konal’s heart fell. “I can’t save you by following Chimera. If you can’t leave with me, then I can’t save you, brother.”

With that, Fang stepped aside to let his brother go.

“Will–Will you live as a rabbit?” Chimera asked. The voice was soft, almost timid, an echo of the smaller fox Konal helped so long ago.

“I will be free, as a rabbit or a fox,” Konal said. “I hope for my brother’s sake that you prepare for tomorrow.”

Frustrated and angry, Konal left both the den and his pack. It was clear that betraying the rabbits would not get Konal what he wanted. As he traveled, he remembered the early days, before Chiron’s obsession, before his injury. He missed that Chiron. He missed his brother. He missed being able to run like a proper fox, not stuck hopping back to the warren.

Within him, I apologized and offered sympathy.

Konal growled, “What are you complaining about? You got what you wanted.”

The Devourer, as foxes called the moon, was full from eating his children and had reached his peak as Konal made his way back to the warren. He wasn’t sure why he was going to tell the rabbits what happened, but some part of him knew it might save his brother. That hope was all I could offer. After all, it needed to be his choice to return.

The back entrance to the warren was as I—and thus Konal—remembered, a jagged rock set into the snow with a hollow underneath. He made his way down the long winding exit run and felt safe with the scent of other rabbits around him. I offered him the choice to stay; this could be his home.

“No,” he whispered. “No more packs; no more groups; no more warren.”

Despite that, he continued down the run. He froze when he heard rabbits ahead and listened.

“What is this about?” asked Oakbud.

Russet’s voice followed; he sounded nervous. “We can stop the foxes, but we’ll need your help. Face them with us tomorrow.”

“What’s the plan?” Oakbud was understandably cautious. “And where is Bremen?”

“Bremen...” Sylvia attempted to answer. “He...” The sadness bled through in her voice.

Russet came to her rescue. “Bremen has been possessed by one of the foxes in the pack.”

A stunned grunt came from Oakbud.

“I know this sounds insane,” Russet continued. “The reason no one has seen the foxes before is they can take the form of rabbits.”

“They’re members of the warren?” Oakbud’s voice shook. “Who?”

Sylvia answered, “Basil, Fig, Cinnamon and Bremen.”

“Cinnamon was one of them?”

“Is one of them.” Russet let the knowledge sink in a moment. “We can save her.”

“My daughter’s alive?” Oakbud gasped, fighting against hope.

Konal, or maybe it was me, imagined Sylvia brushing against Oakbud to bring him back to the real world. “Yes, and you can help free her.”

“The foxes took over Fig and Basil.” Russet explained, “Your daughter has been struggling; the fox she’s bonded with can barely control her. That’s why they didn’t allow her back to the warren. We believe you’ll give her enough strength to break the hold long enough for us to send them on.”

Not convinced, Oakbud asked, “And what is the plan?”

“Konal, the fox inside Bremen, is going to make sure they meet us at sunrise.” Russet’s voice remained strong, but Bremen could hear a slight change. “Then I’m going to use Seerleaf and undo Hue’s vision. It’s what’s keeping them here.”

“The foxes will be gone?”

“It should work.” Russet gave a heavy sigh. “I’m not feeling good about doing that to Konal.”

That caused Konal’s ears to perk up. Was this an act for his benefit?

“Why not?” Oakbud’s voice was louder now. “If what you say is true, he possessed your friend.”

“My blood-brother, sir,” Russet said. “I know it’s difficult, but Bremen trusts him, and if he helps us, I don’t want to abandon him to his fate.”

Sylvia grunted. “But we need to be rid of all of them.”

“I know Bremen,” Russet said. “He would want to treat an ally as a real friend. But it’s not that simple.”

Konal could not believe his ears. Did the rabbits truly trust him? Clearly, they did not understand who they were dealing with. Just because he was in a rabbit’s body did not give him a rabbit’s soul. Maybe they were blind in their trust of Bremen, or perhaps they were trying to play him for a fool. Treat the fox as a friend and get him to act like one. To Konal, the rabbits didn’t matter. What mattered was his brother would be free and he could move on.

“Regardless,” Oakbud’s voice called Konal away from his thoughts, “how can you expect me to believe this without proof?”

Russet fidgeted uncomfortably. “Sylvia and I saw them transform, shift from rabbit to fox, and back again.”

Oakbud grunted. “And how do I know this isn’t some kind of story?”

With that, Konal spoke up. “They have proof.”

“Bremen?”

“No, I am Konal,” he said and shifted to his fox-form. The run was tight and prevented him from standing or moving, but there was room to talk. The scent of fox filled the little kettle off the run.

To Oakbud’s credit, he didn’t panic. “You’re one of the foxes that Hue killed when I was young?”

“She used me to kill them. Used me to kill my brother.” Konal’s paws dug into the ground in anger. He didn’t realize he was still speaking the rabbit’s language. “Had she asked, she would have seen the issue was with Chiron, not the rest of us. Whatever your warren did to Chiron, he would not, and will not, hear reason.”

“Your pack didn’t want to talk either,” Russet jabbed verbally. “Did you ask the warren what happened to Chiron?”

“Ask the warren what they did to him?” That stopped Konal.

Oakbud’s ears flattened. “I was a kit when it happened. Whatever they did to Chiron, anyone at the warren who knew is dead now.”

Konal sighed. Slowly, he admitted defeat and shifted back to Bremen’s form. He hopped up to Russet and nudged the familiar one with his nose. “For what it’s worth, I wish you and Bremen had tried to stop us instead of that seer. You might have prevented all of this.”

Russet lightly groomed Konal’s ears. “How did talking to your pack go?”

“The other foxes will meet you outside their den at sunrise. The chance to kill Oakbud was more than Chimera could resist.” Despite the situation, Konal laughed again. “Chimera wants to move in for the winter. Let everyone know he’s the fox killing them and they’re all trapped here with him. It’s insane.”

“Will you help us?” Russet’s question bit a lot deeper than Konal expected.

“I’m done.” Konal’s response was angry; not at the rabbits, but at the situation. “Chimera knows you’re prepared. He didn’t want to find out what I knew. He didn’t care.” He grunted. “I have left that pack, but I am not joining the warren. I’m sick of trusting any of you. Foxes, rabbits; you’re all the same.”

“You’re right,” Oakbud said. “What we should have asked is, can we help you?”

“My brother will be freed from Chimera’s control. If you kill them or if you stop Chimera, that will happen.” Konal let out a slow sigh. “I can’t protect Fang anymore. I can’t stop Chimera. I hope you can.”

“If that is your decision, we will let you leave.” Russet nosed Konal. Sylvia started to object, but Russet cut her off. “We can’t force him to stay and we certainly can’t force him to fight. Konal, thank you for your help.”

Then Russet’s voice got very serious, with a deadly edge that chilled Konal’s spine. “Know that I will survive. I will find you again and I will free my brother from you.”

“I expect no less.” With that, Konal attempted to leave, but his body wouldn’t move. For a moment, fear gripped him; he knew I was not strong enough to stop him. Konal won the battle in the dream. I was weak and Konal was strong. With great force of will, he made his body turn.

One hop and he collapsed. His body, my body, would no longer move. This wasn’t a clash of wills. I wasn’t forcing him. There was no pressure to obey, nothing to resist. It simply was not his body anymore.

“What’s happening to me?” Konal cried out.

Russet hopped closer. “Bremen?”

“No,” Konal retorted. “I won. He’s gone. I won!”

“Are you okay?” Russet nudged Konal with a paw.

“Don’t touch me!” Konal shouted. This was impossible; he devoured me. I wasn’t digging through his memories or sneaking out through his fear. It was as if–as if...

At that moment, Konal realized he didn’t defeat me in the dream. He faced me with all the strength of his imagination, but that is where the strength of a story lies.

He spoke my words out loud, so that my friends would understand. “It’s true. My fox-soul couldn’t beat you, and the storyteller knew that wouldn’t help. I took my fallen brother’s advice, and pulled you into my world, where anyone could be forgiven and all animals are friends. I found a way to allow you to leave the vision, by letting you best me in a story. I gave you a chance to understand us. I gave you a chance to choose a side.”

I laughed back in my body; Konal displaced to the vision.

“Konal, I know why you want to leave, but everyone needs our help. Besides, you’d never forgive yourself if you turned your back on your brother. You stood up to Chimera, even on your injured leg. If you do not wish to join our side, then we will join yours and free your brother together.”