Resting in Sylvia’s burrow, the throbbing in my shoulder held me between rest and awareness. The countless smells of plants told my nose that I might be outside. Any other day, it would have led to pleasant dreams of running outside or even playing tricks in the forest. Yet, every time I closed my eyes, a fox was there to rip me apart.

Fig stood watch in the run. He helped me to Sylvia’s burrow after making sure my injury had stopped bleeding; Oakbud thought that Russet would head there after helping collect herbs. Maybe being bitten convinced Fig that I was part of the warren. Hopefully, that thought would keep any angry mobs from blaming me for provoking the foxes.

Staying awake kept the dream-fox away, but let my recent failures run through my mind. The little things, like Oakbud protecting Twitch from me, mixed with the more serious issue of scaring Basil. Even protecting Lily was a failure; Chimera had fled from Mulberry, not me. If I was to survive, I had to stop trying to resolve things quick enough to make the storyteller gathering. Hopefully, I could find a way to let my father know I had survived. I’m not sure if he ever thought my death was possible.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been afraid for my life; that happened when I was freezing after falling into the stream. It was the first time I thought I’d really lose. That despite my best effort, everyone would still be killed and the warren would vanish. How could my father be so confident?

To distract myself, I picked at why Chimera let me live. Who or what was Konal? Had Chimera actually implied I was a fox, or was I imagining that due to stress over Basil’s vision? Was the fox that kept me awake Bremen or Chimera? If he was me, and I was a fox in a rabbit’s body, what was the proper way to refer to my past-life in a narrative? Was there a way to say that without implying I thought it was true?

I had tentatively decided on fox-Bremen when I heard Oakbud in the run.

“Fig, we could use your help with preparations. What happened doesn’t feel right; the foxes have never left survivors before.”

“Let Mulberry handle it. I won’t leave Bremen’s side until he recovers.”

“But the schedule might have changed.”

“It will. It has. Please sir, if the foxes reveal themselves, things will get so much worse. And if it snows, it’ll be too late to move the warren.”

“It’s already too late. We’d never survive the winter in a new place.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. If you want to help, can you wait here while I get Bremen something to eat?”

“Of course, you eat as well.” Oakbud sighed as Fig left and looked inside the burrow.

I groaned as I sat up. “He’s come a long way from threatening to sacrifice me to the foxes.”

Oakbud laughed. “Forgive him. He’s happy to have something simple he can do. He’s sure you’re going to be the next victim, and that means there’s only one rabbit he has to keep an eye on. I think it has something to do with getting ahead of the attacks instead of chasing phantoms.”

“I understand.” I frowned. “I’ve been trying to figure out what happened during the attack. I thought someone entered before Chimera did, but I’m really not sure. It might have been Lily. Hopefully, Russet will notice something when he checks the chamber later.”

“We’ll work things out,” Oakbud said. “I might have to order Fig to let Mulberry watch you tonight. To be honest, if he insists, there won’t be many ways to stop him from following us. Plus, he’s a hero, and the leader of the watch. Maybe you should invite him as well.”

“It would be difficult if you wanted to know the how of what we do, not just the what and why. Is it okay if I think about it?” I awkwardly settled down. “Or, I’ll let Russet decide; my shoulder is really distracting.”

Oakbud hesitated a bit. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Shoulder and pride injured,” I said. “Both will heal. I just need a little rest.”

Fig returned, dragging a few greens from his personal rations. They did help, but being left to my thoughts let the fears repeat. And that ever-present fox behind my closed eyes kept me from sleeping properly. Chimera did seem stronger than the night before; perhaps that was why they only killed on the fourth days. If true, however, that gave us only a little time to figure things out and definitely not enough time for my shoulder to heal.

The painful haze faded as Fig talked to another visitor. “The wound wasn’t deep, the bleeding has stopped, and King Oakbud thought Russet would be with you. Also, we’re out of Twilight’s Heart. There was a bad scare.”

“I hope everyone is alright,” an unfamiliar female rabbit responded. “We did manage to get some healing herbs today, but no valerian root. He was going to help me prepare them.”

“I dabble,” Russet said. “Actually, I brought a Twilight’s with me. The watch is welcome to it.”

“Then you can replace the one that–” Fig grunted and caught himself. “That was used during the scare. Knowing it wasn’t our last would’ve helped. Anything else you’re hiding?”

“I wasn’t hiding anything; I’ll let Sylvia know what I can spare.” Russet whimpered. “My stores are low, but I’m sure something will be useful.”

Sylvia demanded. “Fig, what’s gotten into you? He’s done nothing but help all day. Why accuse him of hiding something?”

Fig’s voice lowered. “Sorry, Syl. There was an attack in the warren outside the schedule. Please, the scare almost killed Clover, and it was on my watch.”

“I get it, cousin,” Sylvia said. She nudged him as she pushed past and into her burrow. “Are you awake?”

“My shoulder won’t let me sleep,” I answered. My limbs didn’t want to move, but I sat up. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Bremen, wandering storyteller. I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.”

“I’m Sylvia; call me Syl,” she offered. “Are you well enough to head outside?”

“I’ll make do.” I frowned. “You have a powerful name; you should embrace it. Especially as head herbalist for the warren.”

“I’m not really the head herbalist,” she objected.

Fig interrupted, “Please, you’re the only herbalist we have.”

Russet pushed past the conversation to examine me. He sniffed at my shoulder, searching for bleeding or infection. Then he lightly ran his paws over my chest to feel for bruises or broken ribs. Gentle as it was, it hurt.

Sylvia used the pause to change the topic. “Russet helped me find some comfrey. Once we have it prepared, it should help. I thought we’d do that outside, where I could see what he was doing better. And he could look at your wound as well.”

“You seem fine, Bremen, but I’ll feel better if I can get a proper look at it. Nothing’s broken, but there are a lot of things that could be wrong with it.” Russet sighed. “Let’s get you outside. Let us know if you need any help moving.”

“I think he should stay here,” Fig said. “What if he makes his injuries worse by overexerting himself?”

Russet grunted in frustration. “The yarrow you used will prevent bleeding. That’s good. But did you clean the injury properly? If there’s an infection or these strange foxes have some kind of venom, then all you did was seal it in the wound.”

“Foxes don’t have venom,” Fig objected, surprisingly quiet. “I was only trying to help.”

“He seems fine,” Russet said. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I want to check.”

With that, I carefully got to my feet. My legs were shaky from stress and upset, and my shoulder wouldn’t take my full weight. My chest hurt when I moved, but it was better than when Fig helped me get to Sylvia’s burrow. We went slowly, and I managed the trip without reopening my wounds.

Lord Sun loomed low in the sky when we emerged onto the slope. The air was cold, preparing the ground for a night of frost. This time, several groups of rabbits were grazing. It almost felt like a normal day until I realized almost the whole warren was above ground. Mulberry must’ve decided that keeping as many rabbits together as possible would force the foxes out in the open. If another attack were to happen.

In the light, Sylvia was revealed to be a dark-furred rabbit, with lots of light specks mixed in. Her underbelly and paws were covered in the lighter fur and she had a nice figure that would be more interesting if I wasn’t having a terrible day.

The look of concern from both Fig and Sylvia made me wonder exactly how terrible I looked. To ease the tension, I faked a yawn and settled down. Sylvia decided to take a half-hop onto one of the nearby rocks, to empty and sort the contents of her bags. Fig settled nearby to observe.

Russet sniffed at my wound, sending fresh pain through the shoulder and down my foreleg. “You’ve got a few scrapes from being knocked around, and except for the bite, it’s all bruising. There’s no blood on your breath. He was disturbingly careful not to cause anything long-term.” He traced the yarrow-crusted scab again. “Even the bite will heal fully; he didn’t tear muscle.”

A fear clawed at my chest. I tore at my wound; it needed to bleed clean. “What if he left something in me?”

“Stop that!” Russet objected. “I’ll clean the wound. Away from the entrance. The less blood around the warren, the better.”

Fig added, “Don’t go too far. I’m not letting Bremen out of my sight.”

“We’ll be a bound downwind, you’ll be able to see us,” Russet offered. He hopped over to Sylvia and gave her a slight nudge with his nose. “I’ll be right back. If you’ve gotten everything sorted, we’ll start then.”

The aches did not make the short hop easy, but Russet was patient as I limped along. We settled out of earshot as Russet sniffed at my shoulder again. “I heard it was the smaller fox, and he calls himself Chimera. Anything else you remember?”

“He wanted the warren to know his name. They’re getting ready for something.” I frowned. “I’m having some nightmares about a fox. They’re keeping me awake as much as the pain from the bite.”

“That’s understandable.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“It feels like more than that. Maybe that’s how Chimera keeps his fox’s-paws in line? A bite to establish a link and then he can do that seer-trick with the orders at a distance?” I sighed. “I might be a danger to you and the others. Blight and revelation! Maybe that’s the fox Basil saw this morning? He said I had a fox-soul, but maybe he saw that I’d get bit and have Chimera in my head?”

“Bremen! Calm down.” Russet grunted and shrugged the bag off his back. “Yes, that’s possible, but neither of us are seers. We don't have the ability to tell what's wrong, so we’ve only got guesses. Maybe, with another spearmint, if it was a vision and left the same kind of residue that was in the meeting cavern, then maybe I could get some details.” He took a breath. “Watch your own actions, self-check like you’re around a questionable storyteller, and I’m sure you’ll catch anything Chimera can do. Our only other alternative is to ask Basil about it.”

I frowned and sighed. “He’s really upset with me. Also, if he could tell, wouldn’t he have found the fox’s-paw by now? What if there isn’t one and Chimera can appear where he wants, like some kinda ghost?”

“Think on it and we’ll go over it with Twitch tonight, but stick to what we actually know.” Russet shook his head and pulled out a pine-scented ball of fur and a mash of grass and aloe, each wrapped in a protective leaf. “Let’s get this cleaned. The oil might make you a little sick, but it sounds like you need it.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled, “clean it as much as you can.”

Russet carefully peeled the blood clot from my shoulder, along with a bit of matted fur. He sniffed at the freshly oozing blood.

“Smells like there’s a little dirt, but that’s it.” Russet dipped a claw in the pine and worked a little into the wound. Jolts of pain ran from my shoulder through my foreleg and back. “Half a drop shouldn’t cause too much trouble. So, what do you think about Fig watching us tonight? He seems really suspicious of me.”

“I’ve been wondering about that. If the cuts on his nose aren’t from Twitch, maybe Chimera marked him as well?” I grunted, teeth clenched. “Someone entered the chamber before Chimera. It could’ve been Fig. Maybe I’m imagining things.”

“Do you think we can get rid of him before tonight?” Not waiting for an answer, Russet licked my wound and spat the blood to the side.

I winced at the pain, but managed to say, “No.”

Russet finished cleaning and sniffed over the wound again. “Dirt’s out.”

He applied the poultice, and the pain cooled and stopped. A few tears rolled from my eyes. “A real storyteller could talk his way out of this. I’ll have to use a story.”

Russet removed the smaller scab from the other side of my shoulder and the new cycle of pain pushed my self-pity away. “You’re a real storyteller. I don’t have a plan either and I’m out of Slumberthorn because of the bobcat on our journey up here. If it hadn’t taken all three—but it did.”

“Fig not blaming me feels strange,” I said as Russet finished cleaning. “I don’t think that positive view will last if we vanish or knock him out.”

The poultice was next; at least the aloe was soothing. Not sure what else was in it, but the pain all but vanished as it was applied. Russet offered, “I’ll try to check the main chamber before we go. If Fig’s being controlled, maybe he’ll resist the story in an unusual way?”

“That would give us more information. I don’t think it’ll be that simple,” I said, unsure if I was really upset or if it was the pain speaking. “This whole situation feels wrong. This isn’t fun; adventures are fun.”

Russet had a tangle of dried grass from his pouch on the ground, and wove it together, pulling with his teeth as his paws held parts down. I watched and let him concentrate. He finished folding the grass about itself and tested it for strength. Silently, he lifted it with his paws and carefully wrapped it under my foreleg and over my shoulder twice. Finally, he tucked the ends under the loop.

He checked his work. “Tricksters are in control of the narrative. You’re not used to playing catch-up. However, they are reacting to us. Chimera changed his plan, the schedule, in order to bite you. Possibly because of your encounter last night. We’re in control, even if we’re not sure how we’re changing things. All we really need now is information.”

“You’re right.” I slowly flexed my shoulder, making sure it would stay on. “And this way, we might be able to test Fig. I still feel bad about it but if he is under their control, better to figure that out. Besides, Oakbud can see what we do.”

“The bandage looks good. Although, no fights tonight. If we see the foxes again, you let me handle it.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, Russet.”

We buried the drops of blood as best we could before heading back.

Fig insisted on checking the grass weave and the poultice. He sneered, “Russet is also a healer? Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell us?”

Sylvia jumped to Russet’s defense. “It doesn’t matter if he is or isn’t. He’s trying to help.”

“Please, it’s a lot of surprises.” Fig looked at the ground a moment before he asked, “You’re not also a seer, are you?”

Russet fidgeted uncomfortably. “No! Absolutely not.” He settled down, still shaking, and changed the subject. “Syl, why don’t we prepare the herbs?”

Fig flattened his ears in a huff and sat down where he could see them work. I settled next to him. If I was going to tell him an enthralling story, I needed to get him alone. Deep down, I hoped I was wrong about Fig. Mostly because that would mean Basil was telling the truth as well.

Russet examined the various leaf, flower and plant bits that Sylvia had laid out. He suggested, “Why don’t we start with the spearmint?”

We watched them prepare the dried huckleberry containers. I wasn’t sure I was up for conversation, but Russet was right. We couldn’t afford to be reactive. Plus, conversation was a well loved home for a storyteller. “Thank you for looking out for me this morning. And not accusing me of hurting Clover.”

“Whatever,” Fig grumbled. “You’ve come too far to die doing something heroic.”

“That’s how tricksters die, though,” I said before catching my self-pity. “Still, Russet’s here for the same reason I am. Why treat him differently?”

Fig didn’t answer. He narrowed his eyes as Russet and Sylvia started sorting through the actual spearmint leaves and demanded loudly, “How did you find spearmint leaves this late in fall?”

“We got lucky,” Russet responded with a start. “We found a plant that survived the first frost. It was sheltered by a rock warmed by Lord Sun.”

Sylvia glared at Fig. That was enough. Fig looked away as they continued the preparations. Russet chewing the leaves and Sylvia stuffing the huckleberries with milkweed and spearmint.

I gave Fig a nudge. “My question?”

“Syl’s family.” He clarified, “Please, I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Curious, I watched a little closer. Russet was using the preparations as an excuse to nudge Sylvia’s side often. She playfully pushed back when he did. Even focused on their work, there were laughs and the occasional giggle. It was subtle, but once Fig pointed it out, it was obvious. I wondered if Russet was aware of the connection.

Soon there were four spearmint-filled berries resting on the ground. Russet and Sylvia laughed as they got ready for the next batch of herbs. I stretched, flexing my hind and forelegs, mindful of the bandage on my left shoulder. Fig had taken a proper watch after our brief conversation. His ears and eyes scanned our surroundings for any signs of activity, from the forest uphill for foxes, to the rock outcroppings nearby for snakes, to the horizon for birds of prey.

Fig grumbled, too quiet to be overheard, “Please, Syl’s already lost rabbits she cared for.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But we’re here to stop the foxes, not hurt anyone.”

“Sure. That’s all.” Fig scowled. “If he’s not next, he’ll be the one after.”

I reminded myself to control the narrative and didn’t take the bait. He had a reason for his actions, so I was unlikely to make progress there. Maybe if I could get him upset, he’d blurt out what happened to his nose. I hesitated. What if there was simply a second weasel? One that was afraid of the foxes and desperately trying not to injure the rabbit driving him off.

Best to get him alone then. “If you’re okay with giving them a little space, perhaps there’s a good place to see Lord Sun’s departure? I didn’t get to see the sunset yesterday, and I bet it’s amazing here.”

He reluctantly nodded. “It is. Let me show you.” He looked back at Sylvia and Russet, then sighed. “Please, no more surprises tonight. Okay?”

We headed only a bound up the slope, to a large rock that stuck out farther than the others. This would be easier if I knew he was the fox’s-paw. Ultimately, that was simply a guess without any proof. At least it would show Oakbud what he had on his side. Or what the foxes knew about. I pushed the emotions down.

“How about I tell you more about us? Last summer, we saved a warren from a group of weasels.”

“You?” Fig scoffed. “Saved a warren? There’s no way you could handle a weasel.”

“I’ve been a hero on occasion.” My fur bristled at the challenge, and I let out a low growl. “Come now, not everyone gets their nose clawed.”

“That’s not what happened,” Fig snapped back. “He was scared, and I was chasing him off! He–I chased him through, uh, some–some thistle.”

“Must’ve been some thistle patch.” I frowned; Twitch would know what happened. “The warren I speak of is called Hazelford, and it was the second fall I had seen. Now, Hazelford is known for the various plants around it as well as the small stream that runs past the northern edge...”

Once the story started, the rest flowed. My concerns faded, and I focused on what I was good at. Even the ache of my shoulder bothered me less as I crafted a story about weasels raiding the warren. Like the foxes, they did not move on, and there was despair throughout Hazelford. I took my time, embellished where needed to establish rapport. Then, I got to the part where the king called for volunteers.

“Always willing to put the warren first, Oakbud, the king’s son, volunteered first. He was younger than the Oakbud you know, but just as strong and noble. When he was appointed to talk to the weasels, Russet and I stepped forward as his guards. I’m sure you can imagine us back then.”

Fig nodded as the story wove around him.

“The last volunteer was Mapleleaf. He resembled you, Fig. Strong and brave, even a little gruff. He was a good rabbit, just like you.” I pressed my shoulder to his and whispered in his ear, “To be honest, I think he wanted to make sure I didn’t get all the credit.”

I went over the details again and made sure Fig could imagine Mapleleaf. I let him fill in the nuances with himself, as I continued. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about what happened.

Lord Sun was almost completely behind the surrounding hills when I finished. Fig had been right. The rock gave an unobstructed view of the fading light as it reflected off the clouds and I had been so wrapped up in making Fig’s story I had missed it. Had I done the right thing?

“Come on Mapleleaf, let’s graze until it’s time to go.”

We ate as the light faded and I tried to quiet my thoughts. Either Fig was a fox’s-paw but an unwilling one, or he was innocent and I was picking on the watch. Neither thought felt right. No matter, all we had to do to fix it was to stop the foxes. Somehow...

Backpack on, Russet emerged from underneath one of the nearby rocks and hopped over. “How did it go? Can we talk freely?”

“Yeah, Mapleleaf doesn’t care what we talk about, right?” I said to Fig, who nodded.

Russet continued, “So, I did manage to check the meeting chamber. Almost everyone showed up after you got bit, which doesn’t let me rule anyone out. However, that weird gap in my sense of smell was back, and I’m sure we fixed it last time. They’re definitely using some seer-like power to get in. I’d call it a trick, but this seems way beyond that.”

“Did you and Sylvia finish the herbs?”

“Most of them. She’s going to give Mulberry my Twilight’s Heart, and see what else they can use. I held onto the one Pepperpuff. None of the watch here have any practice throwing them anyway.” He nudged me. “Do you remember when you tried to throw one and it broke in your paw?”

“How could I forget? I was covered with the cursed thing.” I faked a laugh.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“No. Giving up on this as an adventure isn’t easy,” I said. “But, we’ll save them. Won’t we?”

“Don’t worry sir, we’ll stop the weasels,” Fig—er, Mapleleaf answered.

I winced. “Maybe the bite causes fear and guilt. I’ve heard of a seer-trick like that, but not one that uses a bite to deliver it. Of course, I’ve never heard of any seer-trick that could move a fox into a warren, and at least one of those seems to be happening.”

We continued grazing. Fig spotted Oakbud’s approach first. There were way too many hidden entrances in this warren.

“Hey sir,” he greeted the king. “We’re all set to see the weasels.”

“That’s good,” Oakbud said. “I’m glad to see Bremen decided to include you.”

Fig sat up and puffed his chest. “I wouldn’t want Bremen getting all the credit for this.”

I didn’t let Oakbud reply. “We should go through the warren and out the exit by my burrow. This way, it’ll seem you wanted to talk to the three of us underground.” I flicked my ears, anxious. “Russet, why don’t you lead the way?”

Russet headed into the nearby entrance and Fig followed. King Oakbud hesitated just enough to narrow his eyes at me. I tried to ease his concerns. “I’ll explain once we meet Twitch. All of it.”