“Hello Kits, it feels like yesterday when I first saw each of you.” The den father emanates a sense of comfort to all of the younger bunnies. “But you are already four whole months old. It has come time for you to become adults in the warren. You’re ready for the ceremony, but you must learn your place before you may proceed.”

A susurration of murmuring came across the entire crowd of rabbits. There were about forty, all of the kits being the same age or thereabouts. Looking around at his fellows, Sandpaw saw many faces he’d come to know over the months. Of course, there was Swiftfoot, but others he’d run into from time to time were still there. He couldn’t help but smile, remembering how much they had grown, especially himself.

Sandpaw wasn’t paying attention to the den father as he looked at them. Fur colors ranged from his sandy blond, to normal colors like brown and white, to more exotic colors that were odd to see, like purple. His own ears were lop-like, but others had larger or stiffer ears. Some had longer limbs like hares, some had softer or even curly fur, and of course fur colors were wildly varied. It was weird, a part of him told him they shouldn’t be so… diverse. Their population wasn’t all that big after all, so how could they be so different coming from the same parents.

Sandpaw could not put his paw onto why he felt this way. There wasn’t anything he really knew that said it should be that way, but some instinct inside him told him that they should all look rather similar. At least, relatively, with the same features and fur colors. But no, he should pay more attention to you.

“Ever since I first met you, when I gave you your names, I have been building you to this name.” Sandpaw slowly snapped back to what was going on. The speech hadn’t really gone anywhere since he’d last listened, at least he assumed nothing had happened. He’d ask Swiftfoot to see if he missed anything. “That was the first ceremony of your lives, back when you were only one month old and ready to become a child of the warren and not just your mother. It was my privilege to give you that gift, and it is once more.”

Sandpaw remembered that day. He was the first member of his litter to get a name, and in the end he’d be the only one. Sandpaw was born a runt, he remembered those first days when he was bullied and pushed off his mother by his siblings, only making him grow weaker. He just managed to survive, but his littermates died one by one, leaving him alone. By disease, by predator, even by his mother’s less safe moods, each kit died one by one.

When he was old enough, he was one of the first kits that month to leave. He was the littlest, and nearly the youngest, moving first into the warm shared den that was up from the breeding chambers. He’d begun to explore, and there he was named by the den father for his tendency to dig at the walls and floor. Sandpaw, his paws in the sand and head in the clouds. With a chirp of confidence he’d dug out a small root and began to eat it, his first solid food, when he was given his name by the den father.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“As you are now adults you are expected to work for the tribe’s future.” The den father said, thumping loudly and making the chamber echo. “You have time, but you must find a job, a task that only you can do to help the betterment of your people. The warren will be stronger with your addition, or else you’ll have to go.” He grinned. “In time you are also to find a mate. Some of you may find your task among the brood mothers in the breeding dens. Others will mate the traditional way. We care for all of our people here, believe it.

“Be careful, you do not wish to be locked into something that you will hate for the rest of your life. Once a task is yours, it is yours forever, because it is simply not worth it in our short lives to charge something without benefit to the whole tribe. If only one bun is inconvenient for the rest of us, all the better for it.” The den father grinned. “Now, go forth and seek out the other elders. All elders will speak to you. The guard, the medicine, even the breeders. Each will tell you what it is like to take part in their job, and will help you to test it out.”

All the rabbits began to move, leaving and slowly letting the room disperse. As Sandpaw was moving with the rest of the crowd he felt himself be picked up by the scruff of his neck and placed next to the den father. He then watched as a couple others were also picked up, though the rest of their generation was already gone.

“You three I need to talk to. There are problems…” The den father said, lightly patting them each with a paw.

“Uh, what problem is that?” Swiftfoot asked, trying to look innocent. There was something about his wild eyes that made it a hard ask. Sandpaw, on the other paw, felt that he was far better at looking the part.

“Oh thirteen gods, you two really are dumb.” The third bunny said. She was one of the rabbits Sandpaw had trouble remembering the name of. “We all went outside before we were meant to. You don’t really think the guards were dumb enough not to catch you, right?”

“I mean…” Sandpaw said, scratching at the packed dirt.

“Quite astute, Mossear, I am in fact asking you to look at yourself. I know each of you have problems with my authority, and I need to tell you that you won’t be able to get some jobs because of it.”

“But…”

“No buts. Just listen. You need to join independent organizations. The elders of independent organizations will tell you, but you’ll have to ask. Some are obvious, the healers are not mine, but the guards are. Just be careful, I don’t want to have to banish you for trying to do things you are not allowed.”

The three all left, not wanting to talk to each other, and instead finding places to think based on their proclivities. Sandpaw found one of the abandoned burrows to dig in a little, while his closest friend did laps around the clearing.