*There is a foreword to this fic that you might want to read first*

Let me know what you guys think or if you have any questions! I haven't really written fanfic before so I'm pretty excited to share this with you. ^^ I'm also not sure if this is too long a section? Let me know if it is and I can make the next chapters shorter/split them up more. :D (I just googled the average word count for a chapter and aimed for that lol!)

Enjoy!

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It had started out as a day just like any other. Boring perhaps, but normal, comfortable, safe. Weezie sniffed again, determined not to cry despite the heavy weight of fear pressing in on all sides. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the flickering firelight against the crumbling dirt walls, and hugged her legs closer to her chest. She hoped it would all be over soon, but she had heard of the horrible things the evil captain Daggler did to his prisoners. She caught the sob as it came up her throat and heavily swallowed it back down. She must be brave. For mother, for Layra, for her dear, dead father… She tried to think of something else, something to take her mind off the worries over her fate. Her mind ran back over the events of the day, all the way back to the beginning. With relief she recited back to herself that sweet last morning spent at home on the farm.

Layra was up first- like she always was- the quilt on her side of the bed smoothed out neatly, even though she knew it would be messed up as soon as her twin got up. But that's just how Layra was, always neat and tidy.

The bed was so cozy and warm under the quilt, Weezie wasn't quite ready yet to get up and get dressed for the day, so she pretended to still be asleep. She kept her eyes closed and head against the pillow as she listened to her sister go about her morning routine. She heard humming and splashing water and knew she was washing her face at the basin on their dresser. Weezie finally couldn't hold still any longer, and stretched her legs out underneath the covers, peeking out of one eye while she did so to see if her sister had noticed. Layra was smirking at her around the comb she was using to brush her curly black fur in a way that made it obvious she knew her sister was only pretending to be asleep. But Weezie wasn't quite ready to give up the game. She squirmed back into her pillow with a happy sigh and a wide smile across her face.

"Hm, hm," Layra hummed, tapping the comb on the side of her face. Weezie sneaked another peek through one half closed eye, then squirmed again in anticipation for whatever her sister planned to do this time to get her out of bed.

"Poor Weezie." Layra said, she was much closer now, possibly right next to the bed, but Weezie didn't dare to peek. The game was always over once Layra saw her eyes open.

"Poor, poor Weezie." Layra repeated, sitting down on the side of the bed. Weezie stifled a giggle.

"She must be so, so tired to be still asleep," she said, leaning over and smoothing the rumpled quilt over her sister's shoulders.

"I suppose," she paused, then resumed smoothing the quilt as she resumed speaking. "I suppose I should leave her to sleep and just eat all her breakfast for her. So that it doesn't go to waste." She patted her with a decisive air, then stood up from the bed. "Sleep well, sister, hopefully there will be something left for you to eat when you finally decide to wake up,"

She stood a moment smirking down at her sister, who rolled onto her back and stretched her fists over her head with a wide yawn.

"Oh, good morning, Layra!" Weezie grinned.

"Morning," she replied, then threw herself onto the bed and onto her sister, where the two rolled around giggling, trying to get untangled from the blanket. Weezie finally kicked her off the bed, shoving the quilt off and on top of her. Layra laughed from the floor, pushing the blanket from her now very rumpled head. "Alright, get up now, lazy bones! I'll make the bed while you get yourself dressed."

Weezie grinned her response, and bounced off the bed and to the closet to grab her favorite dress. Her mother had sewn it for her birthday gift last year, a dusty blue that she thought looked quite fetching with her faded red scarf. Not that it mattered much what she looked like, since the only rabbits she ever saw were her mother and sister and the occasional patrol buck.

The two sisters laughed their way down the stairs, with playful jabs at each other both physical and verbal. They sobered up once they entered the dining room to join their mother, but kept the cheerful grins on their faces.

"Good morning, Mother!" Weezie declared, gently throwing her arms around her in a hug. Layra stepped up next to her mother, taking the pitcher out of her hands with a smile and resuming filling glasses so her hands would be free.

"Good morning, girls," Airen said with a soft smile, patting her Weezie's back.

Oh, mother. Weezie paused the replay of her morning to dwell on the pleasant memory of her dear mother. She always had that sad, tired feel about her, but Weezie could only begin to imagine how much pain she must have lived through. Her dear, brave mother. She knew Daggler had come and killed Father shortly after the Afterterrors had swept through, but she had been just a kit then and could hardly remember her father at all. She and Layra had once found a box of picture frames in the attic, showing their mother, young and happy with rich, dark curls like Layra's, always smiling and always with the same two bucks. One they knew was their father; Mother had shown them pictures of him, and even though she had been so young, Weezie felt she would recognize that jolly, kind face anywhere. The other they could only assume was their uncle, Mother's twin brother who had died when the king fell. Mother rarely spoke of him, and when she did it was with such deep sadness the girls decided to never purposefully bring it up. Weezie could only imagine how hard it would be to lose your twin, what would life be like if something happened to Layra? Would it even still be living anymore?

And dear Layra. Tears finally snuck their way down her cheeks as she thought about her sister. She would never ever see her again. Her twinkly smile and beautiful face… Layra could do anything she set her mind to; they all relied on her so much. It's a good thing they took me and not Layra, Weezie thought with a sniffle. Mother and the farm need someone to take care of them.

It had always been Layra holding things together, clever, determined and strong. Father had been a joker, Mother said, and Weezie had taken it as her duty to be that too- to light up their lives and see them smile. Weezie was the sunshine, but Layra was the rock.

Would they ever smile again? Weezie hoped so. She had always thought as long as they were together everything would be alright. But now, here she was. In Captain Daggler's dungeon.

Unfair. The thought seared through her mind and darkened her teary gaze. Unfair! They had followed the rules! Followed Governor Winslow's laws and Lord Falcowit's commands! What had they done to deserve this? They had just come to their farm and taken her! Ignored her sister's screams and Mother's wails. Unfair! And Weezie realized as the tears started to flow, she hated them. She had only been afraid before; afraid they might slip up and be punished, afraid the laws would change and they would lose the farm, afraid of false accusations from neighbors, but she wasn't so much afraid anymore as she was angry. And as she sat there in that dark cell, awaiting whatever cruel death her Uncle's rival had planned for her, she realized what the word "evil" really meant.

So what now? She could sit here in the cold dark and wait for him to get around to killing her, or... could she dare to hope she could escape? The walls were dirt- hard-packed dirt full of rocks- but dirt nonetheless. She knew their ancestors once had dug great burrows deep into the ground, this could possibly even be one of them. She turned, placing first one hand then the next on the rough cell wall. She thought of her sister, her mother, and the portrait of her father sitting on Mother's bedside table. She remembered their shouts as they led her away, the cruel jeer on Daggler's face as he turned from her weeping mother, and Weezie started to dig. She tore at the dirt, grabbing rocks and trying to pry them out of the wall. When she finally broke one out, her fingers were raw and bleeding in one place where a jagged stone had cut her, but she continued to hack away at the hard packed dirt with the crude tool. She worked at this until she was too tired to continue, rolling her shoulder along the wall to rest her back against the cold dirt. She let out a long sigh and shifted a little to get a rock out of her shoulder blade. Then she heard it. Footsteps, the clatter of metal, voices, all of them getting closer. She tried not to panic. Surely it wasn't her time yet? Why would they send that many soldiers for one doe? She scrambled into one dark corner, drawing into as small a ball as possible. If they didn't see her they might look in another cell? Maybe they would leave the door open and she could make a dash for it. Maybe- she could make out words from the voices now, little snatches as they drew closer and became more intelligible.

"...says...expecting...someday, but I'm...pretty surprised...a dumb thing...do right? Filthy traitor deserves...really."

A second voice spoke, higher and a little easier to hear. "You don't think we should just take off his head right now though?"

"Nah, I don't really think that'll be necessary. I know Capt'n Daggler'll be wanting to do the finishing touches, but he won't be going anywhere like this."

They had paused almost right outside Weezie's door, and she held her breath squishing as far as she could into the shadows. So they weren't coming for her then? Who were they talking about?

"Did he say where he wanted us to put him?" A third voice spoke with an edge of irritation to it.

"Nah, I don't think it really matters," the first voice rumbled. "Just throw him in an empty cell and remember which one it was. It ain't that hard. Stop grumbling, Rimby. I'm heading to the hospital to get my arm looked after, yous can follow after you've done with 'im."

"Right. Go on then." The second voice grunted. "Rimby, you got the keys?"

"Aye."

Weezie relaxed slightly. An empty cell, they had said. She was a little disappointed her curiosity wouldn't be satisfied, but glad to be left alone. The jangle of keys could be heard outside her door, and Rimby spoke again. "Do you know if this one is occupied yet?"

"How would I know?" The second said, "open it up and find out! He's not exactly a sack of flour to hang on to,"

Weezie heard Rimby mutter something under his breath while he sorted through the keychain, then to her sudden alarm, the sound of a key in the lock of her door. Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp as she pressed herself into the jagged wall. Please don't notice me, please don't notice me,

The door swung open and a lean brown buck in uniform peered into the cell, the keys clanging together against the door.

"Is it empty?" The second buck asked from behind him.

"I think so," Rimby replied, he pulled back from the doorway, limping from a bandaged wound on his leg to make room for the second buck.

"Good," he grunted, stepping forward with a body slung over his shoulder. He was wearing the same uniform as Rimby, the same uniform that Daggler and his men had been wearing that morning, and the same uniform as the one dressing the body he threw down onto the dirt floor.

It landed with a thud at the stocky buck's feet, and with a look of disgust he kicked him further into the cell. The lifeless buck rolled over awkwardly, coming to a stop with his face smooshed into the floor.

"Why are we even bothering to lock him up, Gock? He'll likely be dead within the hour," Rimby said, frowning down at him.

"I don't really know but it isn't really any of our business now is it," Gock said, pulling his pants up and adjusting his belt buckle. "I just don't want to be the one to drag him out of here once he's dead is all."

Rimby gave a slight shrug in response, and stepped forward on his good leg to grab the doorknob. Weezie watched in anguish as the door swung shut, blocking out the torchlight once more and leaving her alone with the lifeless buck.

Weezie relaxed slightly in the corner she was still huddled in, allowing herself to breath normally now that the bucks' voices could be heard further down the hall. They hadn't seen her, but she also hadn't succeeded in getting out while the door was unlocked. She rested her head on her knees, allowing herself a moment to calm her racing heart before investigating her new cell-mate. Was he even still alive? Weezie wondered as she began to edge towards him. The buck moaned and turned his face to the side out of the dirt, answering Weezie's question. She paused, pursing her lips in thought. He was dressed like one of them, so why had they taken him down here and not to the hospital? Why did the other officers treat this colleague with such blatant disrespect? Weezie’s nose wrinkled in disgust. They are just so evil. He was one of Daggler's men, her enemies. The ones who had murdered her father and taken her prisoner. Why did she still feel like it would be wrong to turn back to her digging? He had never shown anyone else compassion so why should he be shown it now? Weezie shook her head. If she turned her back on the wounded buck she would be no better than him. He didn't deserve compassion, but that wasn't going to stop her from giving it.

The buck moaned again as Weezie inched toward him, a piteous sound ending in a weak grunt. When she reached his side she gave him a quick look over. She was no medic, but it was easy to see he had been badly hurt. He had great gashes across his arms and legs that would need bandaged, but what stood out the most to Weezie was the gaping wound on the back of his head. It was deep she guessed, but from what she could tell in the dim light it was also still bleeding, and that was bad. She didn't know much but she did know that someone could die from running out of blood, so stopping the bleeding needed to be her first goal.

Weezie grimaced, waving her useless hands at her sides in frustration. Was there anything she could do for him? She didn't have anything with her to use for first aid, no cloths, bandages or water, just her and… her dress.

Weezie frowned deeply, clutching the folds of soft blue cloth in her hands. Her birthday dress. The dress her mother had sewn her. With a fussy little whimper, she set to work gingerly wiping and dabbing at the buck's head.

"You'd better be grateful for this," Weezie mumbled, frowning down at her work. The buck groaned, furrowing his brow and drawing his legs closer to his chest. Weezie drew back, studying him after the movement for any signs of change, but he only lay there, the frown remaining on his face.

"I don't even know your name," she pointed out to him, attempting again to make a difference against the blood flow. After a few minutes she stopped, wiping her hand off on her skirt. She looked him over feeling utterly useless.

"I don't- I don't know what I'm doing," Weezie lamented to the unconscious buck. "It won't stop- should I, what should I do?" She sat back from her patient, and stuck her lip out in a miserable pout.

"That's just it then." She said, feeling the helpless sadness of earlier rise back up into her throat. "You're just gonna lay there and die-" she paused to rub at her eyes with a clean spot of her sleeve and unsuccessfully steady the shake to her voice. "You're just gonna die in here then." She sniffed back the tears, wondering why in the world she cared so much for this random officer. It just felt so wrong that someone would die like this, all alone with no one who cared for them nearby, so maybe that's why she found herself caring. So he wouldn't be alone.

The buck groaned again, and Weezie wondered if he felt the wound even in his sleep. She glanced over to the spot in the wall she had been digging at, then back to the unfortunate soldier. Very carefully, she wriggled up next to him and lifted his bloody head into her lap. She took his hand, still warm but trembling, into her own and held it tight.

"Don't worry, " she said, a sob catching in her throat, "You aren't alone, I'm right here, and I'm gonna stay here with you."

She couldn't tell if he could hear her or not, but she fancied the twitch in his frown and the twitch of his other hand could be taken as some form of response.

"My name's Weezie. Well, Louise, but everybody just calls me Weezie."

She began to cry now, finally letting the tears she'd held for hours come jerking out in sobs. "I don't know why they call me that," she said, "only, my Father called me it first, cause he said I had 'Weezieness'. But I still don't know what that means!" She bent her head down to her chest and let the last stubborn sobs march their way out so she could regain control of herself again.

"I don't want to die in here!" She cried, clutching the buck's hand. "I want to see my mother again, hug my sister, and not ever see this horrid hole again." She sniffed loudly, rubbing her nose with her free hand.

The buck grunted. Weezie felt his hand clench beneath her's as he took a deep breath that came out in a jarring cough.

"It- it's okay," Weezie patted his chest. The grunt became a groan as his whole body convulsed, head turning in her lap, his breaths sounding forced and painful.

He's dying, Weezie thought in horror, trying to think if there was something, anything she could do for him. Then, he opened his eyes.

Weezie stared down in utter alarm as the buck's vacant gaze hardened and focused on her own. His next few breaths he took slowly and deliberately, meeting Weezie's gaze without blinking. After a few tense moments he spoke, forcing the words out between gritted teeth.

"Where is this?"

"Daggler's dungeon." Weezie replied, completely taken aback. The buck groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fought to keep them open.

"I don't- I don't know how long it will be before they come back though," she continued. The buck tensed, seeming to make an attempt at sitting up, but very quickly slumped back down hazily blinking up at Weezie.

"I thought you were dead," Weezie whispered, eyes wide.

"No," the buck groaned in response, writhing his head and shoulders and finding Weezie's gaze again. "I'm not going to die in here, and neither are you. I'm going to get you out of here."