Watership Down

Life was fine on the Downs that spring. It was early April and the sun was just warming - all was well. The birds were just going up with their songs, and in the morning sun, there were rabbits lounging: Hazel was laying with Hyzenthlay, Holly and Blackavar were sitting up on a beech root, discussing the events in the owsla. Bluebell was sitting with some of the other does, a few of who were from the previous season's litters. Bigwig and Fiver were grazing together with their does, Thethuthinang and Vilthuril, and talking quietly.

They were greatly relaxed - and after all the trouble with Efrafa, some of Bigwig's scars had finally healed and he had managed to regain a bit of carriage in his shredded ear. Finally, Thethuthinang turned to Bigwig and Fiver. "Do you suppose there are other warrens nearby?" Her question seemed more aimed at Fiver than anyone else.

He looked up. "I can't tell you, Theth," he told her. Indeed, many of the warren rather preferred calling the doe by the nickname. 
Bigwig looked up, clearly a bit indignant, though he said nothing about the familar way in which Fiver referred to Thethuthinang. "I'd imagine so," he told them. "We didn't scent rabbits when we first got to the down, but I can well you there was a scent of heather not unlike the one I told you about just before we met Cowslip. And these days..." he hesitated. "Well, not long before the incident with the General I thought I could smell hlessil out that way. And recently, I've been able to smell rabbits that way if the wind's just right in the winter."

Vilthuril had stopped to pay attention now. "Really? I wonder what they're like - surely no rabbit would settle in a heather common," she chipped in quietly. "From what you've said, it sounds like an awful place." She shivered a bit.

Fiver pressed against her. "We were never in danger of much," Fiver told her softly. "Mostly the danger came from within."

Bigwig snorted. "Oh, yes. I recall an owl, I believe," he grunted. He paused. Bigwig supposed it was a possibility, too, though, that the night in the heather and the night in the forest ran together. "All the same, I think there's rabbits in this heather."

"But there's still a possibility that there is no fourth warren," Thethuthinang spoke up suddenly and meaningfully, looking over at Vilthuril. Obviously they were both concerned, but Thethuthinang had taken it upon herself to comfort Vilthuril, who was clearly uncomfortable with the thought.

It occured to the bucks that they were concerned about the things some of the Efrafan Owsla had said: The body of General Woundwort had indeed never been found. Conversation of a new warren was cause for fear in the minds of those who thought that just maybe, Woundwort was still alive.

Bigwig nodded. "It's a possibility. And," he added hastily, "If there is a warren in the heather, it's a rather small one." This seemed enough to satisfy the does, who nodded. 

The Heather

Bigwig was correct in assuming there was, indeed, a small warren in that heather. They lived under the closed-off roof of violet flowers and twisting stalks, and the situation was not the best for them.

Much as Hazel had said during the seige on Watership Down, rabbits were not elil. These rabbits - the warren of Lienahlay - were no exception. They meant no ill on the down rabbits. They, after all, had no reason to: even though there was limited area for food in the black earth under their feet, they had a strong rooted warren with very little desire to leave. Such was due only to their position: Lienahlay was not surrounded by the most Elil-free places and men weren't too far off. Because if that, and something about the heather(perhaps it was how low the ground was and how wet it got), Lienahlay was safe there and virtually untouchable to man. Outside the heather was not the same story.

So the rabbits stayed in a place most undesirable to rabbit kind. Their struggles had little to do with the geography, however - no, at the moment, non-owsla bucks were not expected to are with any doe to be desired, as the Owsla had apparently laid some sort of claim on the does - the Owsla was composed of the usual large and clever bucks, but there were a few captains in charge of different things in the warren. Most of the Owsla had grown quite cruel, and did as they pleased without supervision under many circumstances. Indeed, the Captains either grew too tired to care or we're trying to contain the warren themselves. Thus, Owsla members occasionally would get so violent as to even kill kittens to mate with the mother. 

All this was spawned by one thing alone: an inactive chief. One particularly influential and kind captain - Rush was his name - knew this well, and after one two many incidents in which a warren buck was nearly killed for getting near one particularly pretty doe, he decided to do something about it. In fact, Rush had an idea.

He approached another captain - and what a distinctive rabbit he was: a large, heavy buck with a great, full head and thick bones, Lindrithray* (or Lindri) was a buck few would pick fights with in the warren and fewer would beat. As Rush approached Lindri, the distinctive buck turned. Size aside, one could not miss the strange black-and-white buck whose face was striped like a badger's. His right side face had a long scar through the eye(some wondered how he could see) and down his jaw line, separating off to veer toward the mouth. He alone was why the chief remained in power, for he was the first hlessi to support the chief and remained exceedingly loyal.

"Lindri," Rush greeted him, "I have something to discuss."

"Go on, Rush," Lindri told him, nodding.

"I think it's time that Chief Gentian leaves the warren."

"You're insane," Lindrithray snapped. "Why would you-"

"I mean a patrol, Lindri," Rush cut in. "Mist forbid I ever turn against Gentian-rah."

"A patrol? What for?" Lindri tilted his great striped head. Rush shook his head.

"Qnything. The Owsla has got to have a chief. They all entertain tremendous respect for him but he's not here to use it." Rush sat up, brushing his front feet over his face. Lindri nodded.

"Then we ought to go talk to him now."

* Lindrithray is, literally, "Badger Bite."

Watership Down

Later that evening, Thethuthinang and Bigwig had decided they'd venture a bit further down the south slope of the down, on the side of the heather. The pair hadn't had the chance to try feeding there, and now that they had one, they took it.

They soon found the grass was very good there. "Well, I say we ought to feed here more often," Thethuthinang told her mate.

Bigwig nodded. "I agree," he said, nosing her. "But here's what I think - the others'll find it when they do and we keep all the cowslips for ourselves for the time being!"

Thethuthinang gave him a wry but fond look. "I think not, Bigwig," she told him. "Wouldn't that be rude?"

"I suppose," Bigwig admitted, nosing her. "But anyway, I was thinking that maybe soon I could go to the farm and bring something back for you."

"You wouldn't need to bring me anything," Thethuthinang said, nosing him back. 

"I want to. Nothing's happened in quite awhile here, and honestly..." He hesitated. "Honestly, I'm almost bored. I feel like something needs to happen and a raid might help."

"Well," the doe shook her head. "That can wait. For now I'd like to just feed quietly."

The Heather

The two bucks made there way over a raised mound where one warren run opened out. Behind was a small above-ground tunnel, lined with smaller heathers and thorns. Lindrithray and Rush reached a place where it opened out into a burrow of sorts, and they found a small rabbit sitting at the opening. He was sitting with his ears laid back and opened his mahogany eyes as they approached. He was dark brown, with a darker face, ears, legs, and tail, and cream markings about his jowl and belly. 

Rush and Lindri both towered over him, and one could assume easily that this was likely a runner who would guard the burrow and, assuming the matter was important, contact Gentian. "Yes?" he asked. He had a light, high sort of a voice.

"We'd like to discuss a matter," Rush began, settling on his hindquarters.

"What of?"

"A patrol," Lindri told the little buck. "Out of the heather, to see what's to the north."

"Who do you want to take?" the little buck sat up, eyes narrowing. 

"We're not sure," Rush said. "We wanted to bring the Chief the matter before choosing."

"I see." The tiny buck sat up on his hindquarters. He hardly reached Rush's shoulder. "Well, go ahead." He turned as if to go to the burrow.

"Hang on," Lindri said suddenly, "We'd like to bring you along, Chief Gentian."

The little buck turned over his shoulder. He paused for a moment, then nodded. "Go choose one other rabbit. We'll take four."