War and Sleep

"Wake up, snuggle bunny, before the foxes get you," the raspy voice whispered.
The dim light from the kitchen falls on a small bed, and its occupant rolls over slowly at the words.
"Are we still at war?" comes a muffled voice from beneath the covers.
"I'm not sure yet, but just because it's quiet now doesn't mean it’s all over and done with," the raspy voice replies. "You should get up now and start to get ready," it adds.
The covers shiver and slowly Timmy sits up, his long ears curled back along his head. One flicks forward to droop sleepily as Timmy turns to look at a clock. As his eyes blink the sleep from them, the clock comes into focus, earning a dull groan.
"It is too early!" Timmy groans and slumps back down in his soft little bed.
"THAT won't do!" the raspy voice cries. From the doorway a broad, elderly bunny storms into the room. Her head is covered by a shawl and her outfit is decidedly plain, but her gnarled hands still have their strength. She rips the sheets off the little bed and with a callous motion she seizes Timmy by his ears.
"Ouch! What the....let go....OUCH!" Timmy cries as Auntie drags him from the bed. He struggles against her, but while Timmy is only finding his strength in maturity, Auntie has forgotten more strength than Timmy can muster. It also helps that her gnarled old fingers could hold a bunnies' ears more painfully than any vise ever could.

Timmy struggled vainly as Auntie pulled him through the doorway into the burroway. She turned and pulled him along it now, and in his heart of hearts he knew where she was taking him.
“NO! Auntie, no….ouch…not that, please!” he cried as he renewed his attempts to free himself. Auntie simply squeezed harder, and dragged him into a chamber off the burroway, where a large tub of what Timmy knew to be ice cold water awaited.
“Nooooooo!!!!!!!!!!” screamed Timmy as she hoisted him up and dunked him with all of the grace of a 20 pound bag of carrots.
Timmy gasped and screamed, almost matching the kettle whistling in the kitchen. He thrashed wildly, slashing water this way and that, soaking everything.
“Stop splashing, or there will be no breakfast,” Auntie roars at him.
“Iiittttssssss……cccccoooolllld,” Timmy whispers, his teeth chattering and his body trembling.
“Of Course it is cold,” Auntie cries. “How else am I to wake you up, you sleepy lump!”
Reluctantly, Timmy stopped fighting. He glared at Auntie as he sank, trembling violently, into the water.
“Good Bunny,” Auntie says. “Wait here and I will add some warm water for you to bathe before breakfast”.
She turns and walks out of the washroom, leaving Timmy to shiver in his own loathing.

Auntie soon returns with the steaming kettle. Slowly she pours the hot water in, testing with the tip of her ear. The shivers stop and Timmy sinks lower into the water.
"Now wash," Auntie says. The sharp tone brooks no arguments, and Timmy reaches for a bar of soap and a brush.
"Good Bunny," Auntie says as she leaves. "I'll have breakfast ready in 15 minutes."
Timmy rolls his eyes as the door closes with a sharp click, then gets down to getting ready. Soon enough the plug is pulled and the water drains out. Sitting on a small table are two thick, warm towels. As Timmy dries, he can smell from the kitchen the heavy porridge that he likes best of all. Finished, he drops the damp towels in the hamper, as a good bunny always should (So says Auntie, at least) and walks to the kitchen. The table is already set, and as he sits Auntie takes the empty bowl and ladles a large portion of porridge into his bowl. She hands it back to him, then turns to grab a pitcher of iced carrot juice. Timmy reaches for the jar of clover honey and pours far too much over it (According to Auntie, at least). She clicks her tongue and fetches the toast from the skewers while Timmy attacks his sweet treat.

Suddenly there comes a knock on the door. Auntie tenses, then turns to the window while Timmy stops eating, his ears very still. Auntie peeks out of the window before tiptoeing to the door. Only as she reaches it does Timmy see the heavy frying pan clutched in her right hand. She turns and points her gnarled finger to the pantry door. As quietly as he can, Timmy stands and slips in and pushes the door until a sliver of space remains.
"What devilish trickery would have a knock at this unwholesome hour of the morning?" Auntie asks. Her ears twitch as she edges from the door and lifts the frying pan.
"If all devils could do was play tricks then our lot would be much happier," a gravely voice mutters from beyond the door.
Auntie relaxes and lowers the frying pan. She steps forward and lifts the bar from the door. The door creaks and opens, revealing a tall rabbit. His fur is a warm brown, but rough and unkempt. His face is sharp and his eyes dart over the room before he looks back to Auntie.

“Gerard, thank goodness it is you,” Auntie whispers. She retreats a few steps to allow him in.
Gerard crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him. Only with the final thud as he re-bars the door does he turn again to face the room.
“Timmy, you may come out now,” Auntie calls.
With great trepidation, Timmy opens the door and steps into the room quietly. As he returns to his chair, Gerard’s eyes follow him to his seat before he turns to face Auntie again.
“I hope that you are keeping well, madam,” Gerard says in his deep and rough voice.
“Only as well as can be expected.” Auntie replies. She walks into the kitchen and replaces the frying pan on the proper hook. Gerard laughs softly. The sound reminds Timmy of a rock slide.
“Were you intending to whack me across the head with that fine piece of iron?” Gerard asks.
“Would you suggest I would do better with a feather duster?” Auntie fires back sharply.
“Dear Lady! I say nothing against the defense of your home,” Gerard says.
“Simply that I don’t think I could ever see you sacrificing one of those precious pans to do so!”

Auntie smiles and chuckles quietly. But it soon ends and the cares return.
“Gerard, is it as bad as we’ve heard?”
Gerard doesn’t answer, but instead walks to the table. He pulls a seat out and sits down, wincing slightly as he does. Only when he is settled does he lean forward.
“Yes, I am afraid that it is,” he finally replies.
Auntie is frozen as she considers this. Timmy, for his own part, only understands a few of these things. He leans forward now and stares at the newcomer.
“Auntie won’t tell me much…” he starts.
“Certainly I won’t, you silly bunny!” Auntie thunders as she snaps back to reality.
“But…” Timmy says.
“Absolutely not!” Auntie roars. Her ears fly back and she glares at Timmy.
“Madam,” Gerard says quietly. “The young man deserves to know what is going on.”
“But this is silliness,” Auntie screeches. “That he would be drafted at such an age…”
“Shows the grave need of his people,” Gerard finishes. His face points at her, his features stern, even for a rabbit.

Auntie huffs a few times as she glares at Gerard, but miraculously does not launch into the fit that Timmy expected.
Slowly Gerard turns his head down to the table. The hard face slips into a thoughtful one as his gaze rests upon the tablecloth. Then he looks up and stares at Timmy now.
"What has your Aunt told you?" Gerard inquires. His eyes, Timmy can see, are slate grey and unblinking. There is a thin scar that runs across his cheek that the matted fur cannot totally conceal.
"That the Foxes are too close," Timmy replies quietly. His ears flop forward as he leans in.
"That is an understatement," Gerard replies. His face remains impassive as Auntie shudders in her chair.
"But certainly..." Auntie begins.
"There is no such thing," Gerard cuts her off cleanly. "They are barely a day away as their stained little paws can carry them."
If anything, this causes Auntie to shudder worse, but her voice rises ominously. Maybe, Timmy wonders, That fit will make it out of her now.
"You can't..." Auntie begins.
"Peace, good lady," Gerard cries, cutting across her again. His face slips slightly, and Timmy stares in wonder at his impatience.
"What happened to...." Auntie nearly shouts, her ears flashing back.
"The reinforcements?" Gerard finishes for her. He turns to face her now, his ears perked forward.
He is very good, Timmy thinks to himself, at cutting....
'"YES!" Auntie thunders now. The kind look is gone as she glares at Gerard. "What happened to all the promises of -"
"There is no help coming," Gerard says. "The 10th was routed 3 days ago, and that fool Simon won't commit the 23rd. They are running as fast as they can to the rear." He glares as he finishes, his ears flattening against the back of his head as he shakes it back and forth.
"But..." Auntie stutters as the meaning hits her. Her ears twitch together.
"But what?" Gerard now takes to the thundering. "There are no attack groups between us and them now! They know it too!" His face contorts and Timmy trembles at the change.
"Then why not...." Auntie starts to whisper.
"Evacuate?" Gerard finishes for her again. "There is no time. This time tomorrow Broad Meadow will be in their clutches, and no one can run fast enough!"

For a moment they glare at each other, their chests rising and falling with their huffing. Then Gerard sits back and his ears relax slowly.
"This," He says slowly while his eyes close. "Is why I am here."
Timmy rocks back in his chair as he stares at the two of them; Gerard cool, Auntie vesuvian. Before he can open his mouth, Gerard opens his eyes and turns to face him.
“Young one,” Gerard begins “You were saying?”
Auntie exhales violently but she does not speak. Instead, she turns back to the kitchen as she fetches another bowl for Gerard.
“Well……” Timmy begins. His eyes follows Auntie, half expecting a second round. But Auntie, quaking from the rage, simply busies herself with more toast.
“Yes?” Gerard asks, dragging Timmy back to the conversation.
"Well.....I was talking to Bridger yesterday, and he said that the LRC* needed some help," Timmy says.
"I spoke with Bridger last night," Gerard replies. "He said that you seemed keen on helping out."
Timmy’s ears prick up. "Could I?" He says.

Abruptly Auntie slams the skillet down on the stove and turns in a blur of flopping ears and fluttering apron. Her ears flatten against the back of her head as a fierce growl rises from her chest. Instinctively, Gerard leaps to his feet.
"Dear Lady," he thunders, "That is quite enough! This young man deserves to make his own choices now."
Auntie sputters; Timmy is quite sure she is trying to find the right word to unleash. Gerard evidently could see this also; he jumps into the silence before she finds it.
"Young one, I can say with great comfort that you would be allowed to join up" Gerard says quickly. "I will need to explain some things to you. If you are set on this, we can talk on the way," he adds. He turns to Auntie, his grey eyes piercing.
"We will not distress your Aunt any longer. Pack a sack of clothes; the warmer, the better. You have 2 minutes."

Timmy springs from his seat as only a harried rabbit can. He darts down the run to his room and starts to ransack the place in his haste. He can hear, just over the noise of his hasty packing, Gerard talking quietly to Auntie. The words are indistinct, but quiet. At least, Timmy thinks to himself, they aren't yelling anymore. He snatches at various sweaters, his favorite red scarf, hoods and jackets; he crams them into a small bag as quickly as he can. Satisfied, he springs back down the run to the kitchen.
Gerard is standing by the door, Auntie still by the stove with a look on her face that Timmy cannot place. Gerard opens the door and cuffs Timmy through it in a fluid motion. Timmy regains his balance and turns to see Gerard behind, his head poking into the kitchen.
"Remember, my good lady, you have my word," he says. "Please take shelter below and barricade the door. If fortune favors us, you will know my knock."
He closes the door fast and turns to him, and gestures him forward.
"And if it doesn't," Timmy hears Gerard say quietly, "All we will hear is silence."