The next instalment is here. Spoilers, obviously, are contained for the last one, so if you haven’t read it please do. Or just assume anybody not mentioned is dead. Either works.

~

Heather and Smalls stood together on the deck of the ship, hands clasped, as Morbin circled above First Warren. They watched, as their boat rushed towards the mouth of the river and the dam, as the last remnants of Natalia’s army streamed from the gate. They watched as the wolves and the birds rushed down upon the little army, as the gates of First Warren swung open behind them.

“No,” Heather said, almost too quietly for anybody to hear. “Not now, not like this.” “Where are they going?” Smalls asked, voice a little unsteady.

“They must be retreating,” Whittle said slowly. “We’re too late. I’m so sorry. We did everything we could to be ready in time, but-”

He trailed off, past mistakes and what might have been filling his mind. “Too late,” Smalls agreed.

“I’m sorry, children,” Sween said. “It seems our escape was in vain.”

“We can, at least, cover their retreat,” Smalls said decidedly. “If nothing else, we must die bravely.” He turned to Heather.

Heather looked into his eyes, and smiled. They had already said their goodbyes. They were already dead, or should have been. This had just been a final epilogue, a miracle of a little more time. “I love you,” she said to him.

“I love you too, Heather,” Smalls replied, emotion choking his voice. “Ever since I met you I’ve loved you.” They shared a kiss on the deck of that boat, allowing themselves one final moment together before they turned to the burning wreck of First Warren.

“Goodbye, Father,” said Heather. “Goodbye, Mother.”

She hugged them, unable to summon any more meaningful words, as the boat slipped ever closer to the city walls.

“I’m so proud of you,” Sween murmured.

“We will die like heroes,” said Smalls.

“They’ll never know,” said Heather.

“Perhaps,” said Whittle, “someone will survive.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Smalls. “Like Whitson and his brave bucks before us, we must face the impossible fight aboard ship. A noble way to die.”

Heather nodded. “Perhaps one day they’ll tell our story too.”

“I’m only sorry you won’t be the one to tell it,” Smalls said.

“You would have been a great king,” Heather replied, “perhaps the best.”

They raised their banners high as, unseen behind First Warren, Picket let his fall. The ship hit the dam, and stopped moving. Wolves jumped aboard, swords flashing in the light. Garten Longtreader was at their head, triumphant and smirking, as the rest of the army that had been attacking the fleeing rabbits came hurrying towards the ships.

“You should be dead, princeling,” he said to Smalls. “As should your girlfriend.”

“Garten,” said Sween, stepping forward. “Don’t do this. I know you’re better than this.”

Garten’s mouth twisted. “You know nothing about me, Sween. You know nothing about this. Be quiet.”

Whittle stepped in front of his wife. “Garten, join us. Redemption is still possible.”

Garten spat. “There is no way back.”

With a flash of Garten’s sword, Whittle was lying bleeding and stunned on the deck as Heather screamed. Smalls charged Garten. The wolves swarmed onto the deck, and Heather found herself fighting for her life. There were too many of them. She saw her beloved Smalls locked in combat, slowly succumbing to her uncle’s advance. She saw her mother and Garten arguing as they fought their way across the deck, and saw Morbin circling above the whole scene. She saw her beloved Smalls beset by enemies. Even with the Starsword in his grasp, he was drastically outnumbered, and she saw with terror that it was quickly knocked from his hands.

The last thing she saw was the Green Ember scuttling across the deck as it slipped from her bag, to be picked up in triumph by Garten Longtreader. Then everything went dark as a blow landed hard on her head and she crumpled to the floor.

~

Picket opened his eyes. Everything hurt. He could see a burned wreck of a room, rather like the tunnels of Halfwind. He assumed it was what remained of Harbone. He couldn’t believe he was alive. He should have been long dead, and yet here he was. He blinked. Everything still hurt, which was somewhat comforting. Helmer was, presumably, still dead, which wasn’t comforting at all.

He tried to sit up, but managed only a groan as new, more intense pain shot through his body. Then there was a familiar face bending over him, and Emma was there.

“You’re awake. I was beginning to think you’d never wake up.”

Picket smirked. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Obviously,” said Emma, smile fading as she spoke. “I wish we all shared your luck.”

Picket sobered immediately. “I saw Kyle - Kylen - fall.”

Emma nodded. “So many others joined him. I’m afraid - I’m afraid Wilfred was among them. I’m sorry, Picket. I saw him die. It was a hero’s death.”

Picket tried to blink away the tears in his eyes. Wilfred had been the last of his family. The last tenuous link to his childhood. Now Wilfred was with Heather and his parents, where he could not reach them.

“And the others?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Cole Blackstar didn’t make it,” Emma said quietly. “He came to protect Heyna and I after the first charge. He took a spear meant for me.”

Picket nodded. Cole had been a good friend, always reliable and cheerful. Now, he was dead. Heyna, Picket realised, was the last of her family too. There was so much pain in this wounded world.

“The Pilgrim too,” Emma added. “We never even knew who he was, but I saw him fall. We owe him a lot.” Picket nodded, wondering how things could possibly get worse.

“It seems callous to try to continue,” Emma said, “but we are alive. We have a duty to those who died. We have to get a council together, if you can manage to get out of bed.”

She said it with such concern that Picket was almost stopped from remembering his master’s scorn the last time Picket had let his injuries make him late for a meeting.

“I’ll live,” he said simply.

The group of rabbits who gathered in what had once been Lord Hewson’s room was almost as ragged as their wolf-ravaged surroundings. Gantlin Hewson, now the lord of his destroyed citadel, sat in his father’s chair, frowning. He had lost two of his siblings, as well as his parents, in the past few weeks. Picket understood how he felt. Beside him sat Heyna Blackstar, and on his right sat Nate Flynn, looking rather taken aback at being there. Beside Nate sat Whit, and beside him Picket found an empty chair. Morgan Booker sat on his other side. The rest of the table was filled, if you could call it that, with representatives of the other citadels, although many were obviously unprepared for the meeting. Emma stood at the head of the gathering, crown on her head and looking more like a queen than ever.

“We are gathered here,” she began, to a respectfully silent room, “because, somehow, we are all alive. We’ve been through an awful lot-”

She paused ever so slightly, and Picket almost laughed at her choice of words. He knew she was remembering Captain Frye in the Savoury Den, what felt like decades ago, telling Heather and Picket exactly what he thought of their family. So much had changed since then. Most people who had been there were dead.

“An awful lot,” Emma continued, “together. We must not give up now, however difficult the road may seem. For now, we recover and regroup, and then we will strike again someday. Someday, Natalia will be ours.” She brought her fist down on the table firmly. “Someday, we will rise again.”

Picket joined the rather muted cheering. When it was over, Emma sighed. “In the meantime, the difficult task of rebuilding must begin. We can’t stay here.”

“Where do we go?” Gantlin Hewson asked. “Surely we’ll be followed, and there are the wild wolves.”

“We’ll have to split up,” Picket said, disliking the idea. “Send Emma somewhere as safe as possible.”

“We don’t have the numbers,” Captain Truff of Blackstone put in. “We’re barely an army all together. And what about the Terralains?”

Prince Naylen stepped forward, apparently having been standing in a corner of the room. “That’s what I want to know. I can’t ask the army to die for nothing. Kylen already died for this cause of yours.”

“This cause of ours,” Picket snapped, “meant something to him, in the end.”

“Picket,” Emma said, warningly.

“He’s right,” Nate Flynn added quietly. “I think we’ve all had enough of treachery.”

“Are you calling me a traitor?” Naylen demanded, glaring at Picket. “I only wanted to know if you had a plan, or if anybody can give me any reason why I shouldn’t take the army and go home before you kill any more of my family.”

Picket scowled, half rising. “I didn’t kill your father, and I didn’t kill Kylen.”

“Bucks!” Emma snapped. “That’s quite enough. This is hardly the time to be arguing about anything.”

Picket sunk back into his seat, fuming. He didn’t trust Naylen, and he resented that the buck was at the head of an army Emma desperately needed. Nevertheless, he knew Emma was right. Naylen folded his arms a little defensively, leaning against the wall.

“I have an idea,” Whit said in the silence that followed. “The only minor problem is that it’s crazy, but I figure we aren’t going to have any of any other sort.”

“Go on,” Emma said, a little gratefully.

“We could tunnel into First Warren. I know,” he hurried on, as most of the room moved to interrupt, “I know it’s been tried. Leapers know we spent years failing to dig out. But the old COD is still there, and if we could only connect there and Harbone, we could have a sort of Warren between them too. It’d be a better base than anything else. They’re hardly going to look for us in this wreck of a citadel, and if we stay here we might eventually get somewhere.”

“How would we get food?” Heyna Blackstar asked. “We can’t survive underground.”

“It’s what rabbits are good at,” Whit said. “Hiding. Look, I spent years hiding underground in enemy territory. It can be done.”

“Thank you, Whitbie,” Emma continued. “Does anybody have any other ideas?”

There was a prolonged, awkward silence. Nobody offered any better ideas. Picket tried desperately to think of one, but he could think of no way it made sense to move the weakened army they had any further. Going into hiding seemed like the only option, and here was as good a place as any.

Emma swallowed. “Any objections to trying to implement Whit’s plan?”

Perhaps predictably, Naylen raised a hand. “Yes. Terralain is perfectly willing to support you, but I can’t ask my bucks to go into hiding like that. This warren couldn’t support them anyway.”

“You can hardly just walk out,” Gantlin observed.

“That’s the problem,” Naylen agreed. “What say you, Emma?”

Emma frowned. “I can’t make you stay. I only ask, for Kylen’s sake, that you consider helping us.”

Naylen scowled thoughtfully, but was saved from answering by Morgan Booker. “What about those still in the citadels? How can we get word to them? If we do, what do they do?”

Emma hesitated for a fraction of a second. “We’ll have to send out messengers soon, yes, but we can’t move the body of rabbits we’ve got here without bringing Morbin down on us. Those still in the citadels are better off there, and perhaps when things are a little more settled those who wish to join them can.”

“Perhaps,” Heyna Blackstar added, “we could try to get most of them to Kingston. As far as I know, it still stands strong.”

“For how long, though?” Lokson asked. Heyna gave him a glare, but he continued undeterred. “Surely Kingston is right next to the High Bleaks?”

Heyna’s scowl darkened. “Kingston is protected.” The argument was interrupted by a loud, demanding knocking on the door. Jo Shanks burst into the room, left arm bandaged. “Your Highness,” he said urgently. Slowly, he took in the eyes of the council. “Um - sorry.”

Picket shook his head, half smiling. Unfortunately, Jo continued, comprehensively wiping away Picket’s smile. “Your Highness, we’ve just had word from Kingston. Well - um - I say from Kingston. From what was Kingston. It fell on Victory Day.” He glanced at Heyna. “I’m so sorry.”

Lokson gave Heyna a rather panicked look. “I didn’t know - I never meant-”

“You couldn’t have known,” Heyna said, a little blankly, obviously trying very hard not to show her emotion. “Your Highness, may I go?” Emma nodded, and Heyna stood up, face turned away from the others. Jo escorted her out, as the rest of the room was left reeling.

Eventually, Gantlin Hewson spoke. “I think Whitbie’s plan may be the only option. The citadels don’t seem safe anymore.” “We need to act quickly,” Emma agreed. “Hopefully they won’t be expecting us to be thinking long term. If we only had the numbers, we could send parties to all the citadels still standing. If we didn’t need the bucks here.”

“You have my army,” Naylen said quietly. All eyes turned to him. “It seems you need all the help you can get. This attack on Kingston proves that they’re not going to be reasonable any time soon. We’ll help you.” “Thank you,” Emma said. “Kyle - Kylen - would be proud.”

Naylen avoided her eyes.

“So we settle here?” Whit clarified. “Start digging a new warren here?” “And send out parties to the citadels we know to still be standing,” Emma agreed. “Unless there are any more objections.” No objections were raised. The reality of the situation had imposed itself upon every rabbit there, and staying put was obviously the only option.

“Moonlight and I can get food parties organised,” Whit offered. “We know all about that.” “Perhaps Emerson and Heyward can plan the new warren,” Picket said. “They’re certainly clever enough.” “I can get the Bracers to organise a guard system,” said Nate. “If there are enough bucks ready to help.” “You have my archers,” Lokson said.

“Those of Harbone, too,” Gantlin agreed. “That might be approaching enough.” “The rest of the army,” Emma said gratefully, “can start on getting this place fortified and beginning the digging. Thank you, everybody. You may go. If you have any questions, please take them straight to me.”

The council stood. “We’re with you, your Highness,” Picket promised, as they turned to leave. “However bad it gets, it will not be so-” “-in the Mended Wood,” the council finished together, summoning what remained of their hope. They had a new plan, an uphill battle to be fought, but at least it was something. They were in no quite beaten, and that meant that it was not over yet.