I sat on my hind legs, purred my teeth slightly, and listened for how sound carried in the burrow. It gently curved on the sides with a hint of a dip in the floor. The top was stone and at an angle. Under the taller part were two entrances, one on each side, with a side-chamber between them. Opposite that was a curved, shorter area.

A single hop put me at the center of that alcove. “Let’s see.” The room opened up; the wall behind me and the ceiling took my voice and projected it into the burrow with a richness. The openings behind Oakbud and Russet prevented repeated echoes, leaving my words clear and crisp. No wonder Cinnamon had lived there.

“Perhaps, to speak to your curiosity, a childhood adventure.” I pondered; this situation was dire. So, one of the darker stories. I’m not sure if I made the best choice, but there was only one that came to mind. “The threshold from kit to buck, where a game became something more.”

I sat up and took stock of the room; my ear flicked from one part to the next. “Hazelford wanted to be a normal warren. It was nestled by a stream that actually flows from here all the way down there, and along that stream, hazelnut trees. It has a moderate-sized watch, a small complement of quick runners to send messages to places nearby, even a few mavericks that lived close enough to bring news and trade. Of the more unusual rabbits, there was an herbalist couple, an old seer, and a crazy albino storyteller who thought he was a crow.”

Oakbud flicked his ears at that, but didn’t object. He’d either seen worse, or was being polite.

“My father chose the name Blackfeather before he settled in Hazelford. The warren always kept him a solid leap away. They respected his trickster spirit, which had saved the warren more than once, but on the other paw—how can I put this?—acting like a crow is one thing; taking an injured fledgling into your burrow and raising him as a younger brother is quite another.”

I hesitated. Usually that got a comment, or someone asking if I was a crow. Perhaps Oakbud needed a little more prompting. I scratched at the floor twice before I continued, “To be fair, Uncle Corbin is one of the warren’s best scouts and was a good co-parent, even if I was the only one of the litter who talked to him.”

Russet pondered, “That sounds like everything was strange when you were growing up.”

“My mother, Sundew, was grounded. Although she was a storyteller, she mostly taught kits and cheered up those who were lonely. And my siblings were normal. They got out into the warren as fast as they could. They wanted to be normal and ordinary, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” I sat back a little and sighed. “That was never an option for me.”

Oakbud leaned forward, and I gave him time to speak. He asked, “Was it because of your white fur?”

“Yes,” I said. “I was the one with white fur, like my father. I was the one named after a dead fox my father once knew. Near my first winter, I’d known Russet and Twitch for about a season. Russet was the nose, he could smell things some grownups could not, and he occasionally borrowed herbs from his parents; Twitch was a great fighter and, being a weasel, got respect where a rabbit could not; and I was the trickster, thinking on my feet and figuring out what to do next.”

Twitch came to my aid this time. “Oakbud, did you do anything when you were younger?”

The king let out a mournful sigh. “None of the kits this year could wander. When they tried, they were easy targets for the foxes. Before that, Mulberry and Fig were our resident kit-tricksters. In my generation, Bramble and Thistle were the pair to be reckoned with, our brawler and young herbalist. I had a foolish dream of joining them, but the warren needed a stable prince, then a solid counterpart to the queen. And now, they’re all dead and it’s too late.”

“I’m so sorry,” I offered. “Well, you can help avenge their deaths with us. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I guess I didn’t realize why their deaths bothered me so much,” Oakbud said. “Forgive me. I’m okay, go on.”

“My father’s reputation was difficult to live up to. The stories of what he had done were unbelievable. At least until someone—other rabbits, a crow, even rats or others—visited and confirmed they had been there. This isn’t about those adventures. This is about how I learned my father was a Storyteller.”

“But,” Oakbud asked, “you saw him tell stories? That’s what makes someone a storyteller.”

“Everyone in Hazelford tells stories,” I said. “This is about the society we’re part of. We’ll get to it tomorrow, if not tonight.

“It started with a wolf–No, it started with the tale of a wolf. Shortly before the first full moon of winter, an older rabbit bounded into the warren and shouted to all who would listen he’d seen the Winter Wolf. Local legend was that this wolf was an agent of Death, and if you saw him in the fall, you would die over the winter. It seems silly, but it had been a superstition for a while. We decided to investigate.”

“Is this a river dunk?” Oakbud asked. “Those are always my favorite.”

“Not as you mean it.” I mock-pouted. “Actually, while I’ll tell those stories for kits, I’m not a huge fan. We’ll get to that. So, yeah, three children decided to drive the Winter Wolf away. I figured I’d have a proper plan once we understood if he was real or spirit.

“With Uncle Corbin raising me almost as much as my parents, I could speak avian before the end of my first spring. A finch we spoke to pointed us to the scrublands north of Hazelford, past the stream. It’s full of thickets and briars with plenty of places to hide. With the first frost clinging to the branches and plants, the field became a mix of white patterns over darker brush.

“The scent was easy enough for Russet to find. I mean, there was only one wolf in the area, and we knew more or less where he was. The path led us as far north as we’d gone before, to a circular briar; a bramble as tall as a great elk and wrapped tightly with vine-like branches. Russet went up to what we thought was the entrance and spooked.” I jumped lightly and shifted my voice to be closer to Russet’s, “Brem, Twitch, I think I smell—I mean our parents, all of them are here. They met with the wolf, and all of them went inside the briar.”

Oakbud laughed at that. “Seriously? You grew up with a crow, and regularly met with a weasel, whose dad was friends with your dad, and the idea they knew a wolf was a shock?”

“When you put it that way,” Twitch agreed, “ it was a little silly of us. Of course, that wasn’t what we thought. What did I say? Something about Russet’s mom feeding the wolf an herb? I mean, between Tansy and Ginger, his parents had herbs for everything.”

“And I told you that you’d need a huge dose for a wolf.” Russet nudged Twitch. “They’re a lot bigger than we are.”

“And,” I said, “I thought they might need our help. Which was perhaps the most ridiculous idea of the lot. We were just kits, and these were our parents; the adults who taught us to be who we were.”

I crouched and crept forward. “We sniffed at the briar and made our way in. When it opened up, there was more than we expected. More rabbits than we could count. Two rats and a lynx sat together and talked like it was natural. A hawk watched from above, perched on the overhead branch of a nearby tree, although no one seemed concerned. And among them was the wolf, laying on his stomach and talking to our parents about how the group of them were treated by the warren.

“Naturally, the wolf sniffed the air as we entered and he looked right at us.” I cringed and backed away from Oakbud. “He was terrifying on his own, but what I remember the most was he simply pointed us out to our parents. Despite being our parents, having a wolf defer to them gripped the three of us with fear.”

I turned and tensed to run. “The possibilities weren’t good. Our parents might have been traitors to the warren. Why else would they gather rabbits under a hawk? And the wolf, we knew he ate rabbits. So, we ran. And once we started, the adrenaline fed our fears. We ran our legs off, afraid of what pursued.”

I hopped in place, panting, exaggerating my fear and exhaustion. Oakbud perked his ears, listening for the continuation. The pantomime was my response. Until I lost my footing and collapsed on the ground, making a low rumbling noise as the imagined me slid to a halt, sprawled on the ground.

“We collapsed well before we got back. For the best, since we had forgotten that Twitch wasn’t a rabbit and wasn’t welcome there.” I wheezed. “We weren’t really in trouble, I guess. The wolf and our parents caught up with us and started a scolding. But it was cut short.”

Russet went to stamp, but instead tapped the ground lightly. Oakbud jumped at the implied warning.

“The Hazelford watch had spotted us. One of the northern patrols, sent to keep an eye on the wolf. Twitch was spirited away by his dad and the wolf, leaving the watch demanding to know what happened.

“I expected Ginger to do something; she was Russet’s mom and a respected warren herbalist. Yet, it was my father who spoke up.

“He started to explain what happened, making up details to justify the presence of two exhausted kits.” I slowly got to my feet with my ears hung in shame. “I was too embarrassed to listen. What little I heard bore little resemblance to what occurred, and then it happened.”

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“Alright, you two, head back to the warren and I’ll take care of the kits,” Twitch said, imitating my father.

“Of course, captain!” Russet snapped, turning to head out the run, and stayed that way until Oakbud looked back at me.

“My father, Blackfeather, had an honorary title of runner. He wandered enough, but respect was not something any of the watch gave him.” I shook my head and batted my ears. “I thought I misheard, and I was in enough trouble I didn’t ask. Blackfeather took me back to our burrow, and Russet went with Ginger to meet his fate at theirs.”

“Son,” Twitch said, still Blackfeather, “Twitch is fine. He’s with a friend. However, you are grounded. Not for long, just give me one day to figure things out, talk to your mother, decide what to do. Your uncle will be by later to make sure you’ve stayed in the burrow. Can you wait until tomorrow?”

“What could I do?” I slumped to the ground in a sulk. “Besides, I think it was the first time he had ever called me son. I agreed, however...

“The next day was only an idea in Fate’s story. Overnight, a blizzard arrived so severe that Lord Sun decided not to emerge from his burrow.” I pulled my ears over my head in distress. “Early that morning, Uncle Corbin visited, and let me know that my parents were snowed in at the briar, unable to return home. He was going to make the trip, to let them know I was safe. He did apologize for my father’s broken promise, which I accepted.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Russet objected.

I got to my feet, dropping the sad pretense. “I accepted the apology. I didn’t accept he wouldn’t tell me that day. The previous night had been spent thinking of what my father might have been. Was he the captain of some secret watch within the watch? I tried to make sense of the wolf. My only idea was the meeting was a support group for animals born in the wrong bodies. I didn’t want to spend the entire day coming up with new and more ridiculous worries.”

“Cinnamon hinted at some of this.” Oakbud let out a sigh. “Why didn’t she just trust me? Why couldn’t your dad have simply told you?”

Twitch frowned and gave Oakbud a nudge. “Cinnamon wasn’t sure if you needed to know. She was concerned it would put you in more danger. We were wrong.”

“As for my father, seeing us had been a shock.” I offered, “He wanted to sort things out for himself before deciding. It was probably the most he had thought about a decision in his life. For me, it was the right choice; your choice might be different. Well, joining was the right one; what I was about to do was stupid.”

“My choice wasn’t as stupid,” Russet said. “I went through my dad’s herbs and grabbed a few Winter Warmths, garlic stuffed with pepper and ginger. They would keep us warm for the trip. At least, that’s what I thought. When did we decide to go?”

“We decided the moment Uncle Corbin left. While you were getting herbs, I tracked down the two watch-rabbits. They laughed at the idea they called my father ‘captain’. It was a strange conversation and only made me more resolved to get to Blackfeather.” I hopped over to Russet. “So, we took the herbs and leapt into the journey.”

I ducked behind Russet, just my ears poking out. “We hadn’t seen snow before. And I haven’t seen snow like that since. We were up to our ears and the snow was still falling. The normal river crossing had too much ice on the rocks and shore; we had to go far around. We finally found a part that was crossed with a tree that had fallen with the snow and wind.

“The brambles north of the river helped, giving us many small shelters as we darted from one to the next. Yet, with all the snow, we were hopelessly lost and turned around.” My ears flicked around behind Russet. “Uh, we found what we thought was a trail. A series of briars that smelled like rabbits.”

I leapt over Russet, back to the center stage. “We went the wrong way. Suddenly, the ground wasn’t there after a hop and there was only the stream beneath.” I went through the slow falling motion and splash sound that was always popular with kits.

“The snow-chilled water bit to the bone. I’d fallen in that river countless times in the summer and fall, practicing escaping predators, but that time the rushing water had the chill of Death.” I gasped and flailed on the ground. “My limbs were wet and heavy, and going numb as the water filled my fur. The herb was the only warmth I had.”

Slowly, my limbs slowed, losing strength. “I was about to give up when the fox appeared. I guess, with all the talk of being a fox, I hallucinated. But he gave me a nudge, told me to believe in my father. Told me that if I got to shore, they’d find me. And I found the strength to swim.”

With a few final swimming motions, I crawled out of the imagined water and flopped onto my side. “I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know if Russet had fallen into the water as well. I didn’t know how long I could survive; my fur started to freeze almost immediately when I got out of the water. Desperate, I burrowed into the snow on the bank. At least it kept the wind off of me.

“Time was lost to pain and confusion. The little warmth I produced, mostly from the herb, turned the snow-scrape into a fragile hope.” I rolled over onto my back. “Which lasted until I realized I was a white rabbit, trapped under white snow, and too weak to move. My mind drifted in the pain, through fever-dreams. Nightmares of watching Russet fall into the river and drown, watching myself drown in the river, seeing my father find me after I had frozen solid, and some weird flashes of being rescued by that fox. I lost track of how many times I died and how many times I survived.”

Russet made another stamping motion. “He’s over here!”

“I had no idea if the black rabbit I saw was real or imagined; I never found out who it was. But he led the wolf right to me.” I arched my back, slowly making it to my feet. “The wolf simply said, ‘It’s not your time,’ and gently picked me up in his muzzle. I remember the warmth of his breath, and how carefully he carried me as I faded in and out of awareness. I was beyond panic, but I clung to life.”

Russet and Twitch huddled together, with Russet peaking over the weasel. “The entire watch saw the wolf’s arrival at the warren. They were scared, but the wolf walked into the center of the warren and dropped Bremen near one of the entrances.”

“‘Keep him warm,’ was all the wolf said when he let me go.” I sat down. “As he left, the watch pulled me inside, huddling around me underground until I dried and warmed up properly. After that, they finally let me pass out.”

Oakbud stepped forward and nudged me. “And what of Russet? Did he fall in?”

“No,” I said. “When I vanished into the river, he followed the trail the other way to the briar. It was his initiative that let them know I was in trouble. And his herb that kept me alive.” I sighed and shivered. “I was unconscious for two days. Thankfully, we had a good healer, and Ginger was able to help with herbs during my recovery. I survived, and thanks to all the help, I kept my ears and toes.”

Russet and Twitch turned to mock-chat with each other. I sat up, ears flat, and frowned.

“The chill didn’t leave, but after another few days, I finally felt strong enough to get some food on my own. When I saw Russet talking to my father, I knew being rescued by the wolf was real. I hopped up to them, and mumbled, ‘Sorry I made you worry.’”

Twitch, as my father, sighed. “You did. You almost died; so did Russet. You’re lucky we found you before you froze.”

“Well, you should have told me!” I snapped at him. “What are you?”

Twitch didn’t answer. He put his forepaw to his head and let out a slow sigh. “It was one day; with the storm, it would have been two. You were within sight of Death. I get it; I understand the trickster who knows he can outsmart the world, but this was an unnecessary risk. We were not in danger. You need patience and perspective; hopefully, next time you’ll be able to tell the difference between a want, and a matter of Life and Death.”

I grunted and winced. “But–”

“You missed your chance to hear my explanation when you fell in the stream.” Twitch tensed and tapped the ground twice.

I lunged at him, as I attacked my father so long ago. As happened that winter, one moment I was leaping at Twitch, the next I was on my back, a weasel foot pinning me down. Oakbud jumped at the sudden motion.

“I was so angry. I was such a kit.” I whimpered a little. “I glared up at him, and he saw the pain in my eyes. I’m certain he did.”

Twitch took his foot off my chest. “There will be other chances. There will be punishment, and you will learn from it. That’s what we do. You have lived; now you must learn.”

I sat up, ears still flat. “I was defeated. We sat there until I stopped shaking with rage. Slowly, it sunk in that I had to be a better rabbit to earn my place by my father’s side. He waited with me and somehow knew when I was ready to hear the rest. Twitch, I’d like to relate this part.”

Another two-tap signal from Twitch told me to go ahead.

“Brem,” I said, then paused, “Son, my son. When I was your age, I did dangerous things because they were what I had to do. They were thrust on me when I was too young. I was taken from my parents by a cruel mentor who didn’t care if I lived or died; Whitepaw only cared what I could do for him. You have a choice. Your siblings will be warren rabbits; they’ll eat grass and be happy for the most part. But you... You could be a great trickster, a true storyteller, who will defend the warren and likely get yourself killed. There will be a lot more pain, but the rewards are as great. You were carried back to the warren by the legendary Winter Wolf. There will be tales of that.

“Your punishment is great and nothing. Your next chance to learn what you saw me do will be the first full moon of spring. Until then, you will learn and reflect. No tricks. You need to forgive—yourself, your family and your friends. Maybe, if you’re really penitent, I’ll let you meet the wolf before then.”

I whimpered and turned around. “But father, it’d be easier to forgive if I knew what happened.”

And back to facing Oakbud. “Good point. So, here is what you may ponder: I am a storyteller. The society you ran into are storytellers, the rabbits, the wolf, even the hawk. We know how stories can be used, to hold the warren together or tear it apart. What you saw me do, to the watch, was simply another use of that skill. If you hold anger in your heart, it will consume you as it did Whitepaw, my mentor. If you hold trust, it is a powerful tool to help the warren.

“And that was the last he spoke of the matter until the spring.”

It took Oakbud a while before he realized the story was over. “And?”

“And I dutifully practiced telling stories, and running escapes all winter,” I said. “I spent two moons thinking about forgiveness and patience, wondering what my father meant. You know we’re storytellers, so is Twitch, so was Cinnamon. Take a day to wonder; give us a day to figure out how to explain things.”

Oakbud protested, “But I’m not being punished.”

“King Oakbud, it has been a long day for Russet and myself. Our society is hidden. We’d like a day before opening up. Besides, thinking on it might help you. While knowing our secret might help you find closure, perhaps simply knowing what we are might be enough, not how we do what we do.” I gave him a nudge for reassurance. “Most importantly, take this day to forgive Cinnamon for not telling you herself.”

Oakbud thought for a while. When he spoke, his voice sounded strong again. “Cinnamon did what she thought was best. You’re right; it has been a long day. We should head back, before the warren thinks I was the latest victim.”