Some days later, though the warren known as Foxvale faced dwindling food and increasingly hungry predators, the start of winter also brought hope. The new warren herbalists had bartered for enough roots to survive the winter. Stories had returned to the warren and brought feelings of warmth and safety that kept the cold and snow outside. The fear that had kept the rabbits from gathering together was finally gone.

The foxes that had plagued the warren since the spring had vanished as mysteriously as they had arrived. Some rabbits still expected them to attack from nowhere, but as the second fourth-day passed without incident, most had begun to relax. There were rumors: the foxes were ghosts, King Oakbud had faced them while the rest of the warren huddled together and gotten them to move on. The warren knew Basil was their last victim, but there was no story explaining he had also been their first.

As Lord Sun prepared to make his triumphant return to the sky, a small group of rabbits gathered. Russet and I sat under cover of the lookout rock, where Fang first spotted us the morning we arrived. We watched the sky lighten into dawn. For the first time in my life, I hoped the journey home would be uneventful. I’d had my fill of adventure for the moment.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Oakbud asked. “Travel in winter is deadly.”

I shook my head. “I know a lot of tricks. We’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure...” Oakbud flattened his ears. “I’m trusting you with someone precious.”

“Please,” Fig nervously objected. “I’m just an apprentice storyteller, sir.”

We laughed as we waited for the rest of our group. She wasn’t here yet.

“I’m also leaving someone precious.” I turned an ear to Russet, my face turned away to hide my tears. “Think you can help rebuild the warren?”

Russet fidgeted. “Well, Captain Mulberry is already a better fighter than I am, and Lily said the winter preparations would last longer, with the smaller warren. I’m not sure how much I’m needed.”

“You’re needed,” Sylvia said as she arrived with Cinnamon. “I was glad to have a second opinion when I made sure Upset was okay. And I don’t think I’d have been able to trade with the owls without your help.”

“The owls wanted the story of the foxes. I didn’t do anything,” Russet objected. “The owls traded everything we needed for it. The strangest part was when I told them Death’s name was Rhizome. They said ‘That’s where he’s gone off to.’ Like they knew him.”

“They’re owls; they know everything.” Cinnamon blushed and addressed her father, “So, are you fretting about my trip?”

“No,” Oakbud deflected, “I’m worried the warren thinks I saved them by myself. Bremen, don’t you want any of the credit?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I paused, pretending to think about it. I had come on the adventure for the glory. Not at the warren, but among the hidden storytellers. To have something, someway in which I surpassed my father. But none of that mattered anymore. “That story will hold the warren together this winter. Isn’t that what’s really important?”

Cinnamon gave her father a light nudge with her head. “Just enjoy it. It’s as close to the truth as anyone will care to know. Besides dad, you’ve earned this.”

Oakbud’s ears drooped again. He sat back and took a long look at Cinnamon. “Are you sure you have to go?”

“Yes, father,” she said. “The warren is still haunted for me. I see what Talus did everywhere I look. Fig and I need some time away to put that behind us.”

“I’ll take good care of her.” I grunted nervously, then added, “Of both of them.”

“Then you have my blessing,” Oakbud said. “What was that phrase you used? The warren lives on...”

“Through hope and stories,” came a chorus of responses.

“Speaking of,” Russet asked, “are you going to tell your father about our adventure? I bet this outdoes anything he’s done. He’ll be proud.”

“He’s always been proud of me; this adventure will not change that.” I shrugged. “Maybe I’ll apologize for doubting him, and see if he asks what I’ve learned.”

“And what is that?” Oakbud asked.

“My father once told me to forgive myself, my family, and my friends,” I said. “And, I made peace with my fox-soul, found new family while remembering my old one, and realized one does not forgive enemies, because there is no such thing.”

“Even Basil?” he asked.

“Sometimes you have to stop friends from hurting themselves.” I looked at Russet and pushed against him. “And sometimes you have to let two friends sort things out.”

“Perhaps,” Oakbud said. “You managed to make friends of the foxes. I suppose they just needed a proper way to pass on.”

“Even Basil,” I said.

The group gave a short moment of silence for all those who had died.

“It’s not all bad,” I reassured Oakbud. “We’ll be back after the thaw and you’ll have a chance to get Fig to stay. He’ll learn a lot this winter. He’ll be the first watch rabbit we’ve added to our order.”

Fig gulped. “Please, why is that?”

“Mostly because we’re tricksters and the watch dislikes what isn’t predictable. Still, I want to invite Captain Pine to join us and you’ll help me bring that up.” I turned back to Oakbud. “When we return, I’ll make sure to bring my family and a few others. We’ll have some introductions to make.”

Oakbud tilted his head curiously.

I explained, “For example, I’ll have to meet the warren’s next seer, Russet and Sylvia’s first kit. Also, I have it on good authority that one of my sons is going to have an old soul.”

“Whose soul?”

“A weasel who wished to live as a rabbit.”

And with that, the story of Foxvale was over. Come spring, the warren would have a new name and a new story.