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Chapter Text

In the dead of winter, night had fallen across a snowy forest, the full moon's light casting silvery glimmers through the bare, icy branches.

For one rabbit, the light was all she had between her and oblivion.

Gasping, the doe fled through the trees, the moonlight guiding her between the massive trunks. Her clothes were simple and practical, a vest and knee length breeches made of linen, all done in an earthy brown. It seemed like not nearly enough in the biting cold, but her running kept her warm.

Too warm, perhaps. Her head felt hot and fuzzy, her lungs burned, and her legs were absolutely on fire. Not to mention the wound in her side felt like a glowing brand was being pressed to her skin.

"Come on, ya' dogs! She's tirin'!" came a voice from behind her, sounding much closer than she would have liked. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Three huge shadows pursued her through the trees, their dark silhouettes broken only by their eyes, pools of reflected moonlight. The only distinction she could make between any of them was that the farthest shadow only had one pool of reflected moonlight staring back at her.

Turning forward again, she turned sharply, disappearing behind a tree. Taking advantage of being out of sight, she turned again and again, zigzagging through the wood. She knew it wouldn't lose them, (curse this snow for revealing her every step!) but she hoped that it would slow them down a tiny bit.

Jumping over a tree root as high as she was tall should have been nothing for her, which is why it was such a surprise when she completely failed to do so. Her entire lower body slammed into the obstacle, while her upper body continued forward. The result was her flipping over the root and falling flat on her back on the other side, the shallow snow doing little to cushion her fall.

Momentarily stunned, she lay there, staring up at the moon. She only allowed herself two gasps before she forced herself up.

Or at least, she tried to. As she stood, darkness overtook her vision. When it cleared, she was face down in the snow, ears laying flat on the icy covering, with no recollection of falling.

When she raised her head, it was like lifting a boulder, which was strange, because her brain felt as though it were made of cotton, her thoughts fuzzy and confused. She slowly swung her gaze before her, looking for some clue as to where she was and why she was laying in the snow.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought it all crashing back. Ears snapping up, the sensitive accessories told her that her pursuers were close. Too close.

Knowing she hadn't the strength to outrun them any longer, she used the root that had tripped her as a guide and(mostly using her arms) crawled to the nearest tree. There was a niche at the base, created by the joining of two roots, and she moved to occupy it.

However, her plan to camouflage herself by curling up by the wood and praying her hunters ran past her was interrupted when what she thought was bark was actually cloth, giving way beneath her weight and dumping her down an inky black incline.

She didn't know if she rolled two times or twenty, but by the time she hit the bottom of the hole she was blind and completely disoriented. Slowly raising herself to all fours, she tried to take in her surroundings, but she found she couldn't see a thing.

A sharp whistle sounded behind her. Staying on all fours, she turned to look at the source. She could just make out the faintest sliver of light marking the entrance she had fallen through.

"Why are we stopped? Where is the rabbit?!"

Hearing the voice of one of her would-be murderers made her gasp, her paw jumping up to cover her mouth. When nothing but silence followed, not even the crunch of snow, she was sure she had been heard, and she resolved to not make another sound.

Something grabbed her foot.

The doe screamed in terror as she was dragged away from the only source of light, deeper into the inky black. A large paw on her back quickly forced her to the ground while another wrapped around her mouth, sharply muffling her scream.

Grabbing the paw over her mouth with both of her own and pulling didn't dislodge it. Kicking, bucking and twisting, she tried to shake off her captor until a large, moist, clearly-not-a-rabbit's nose pressed against the base of her ear.

"Shh, shh, shh," the sultry, masculine voice shushed her. "None of that." The feeling of his warm breath in her ear ignited something in her chest: a fear of tortures worse than death. Eyes nearly rolling back in fear, she froze.

One of her pursuers' voice drifted down to them from outside. "What was that?"

"Quiet," warned the creature that had her in its grasp, his warm whisper in her ear sending a shiver of revulsion through her.

Ahead of them, a splotch of moonlight appeared on the floor as the cloth covering the entrance was pulled aside. "Hey! I found something!"

"Is that a burrow? Do rabbits have retreat burrows?"

"Use yer nose, ya' daft bastard. That's a fox den!"

It was like waking from a nightmare to realize you died in your sleep and went to Hell. Deep-seated instinct combined with a lifetime of deliberately instilled fear fused into a gut wrenching, heart pounding panic that made her chase through the woods seem a prance through the daisies by comparison.

"MMMMM!" she screamed into his palm, eyes spinning wildly in their sockets. Digging her feet into the soil below her, she strained with everything she had to shove the beast off of her.

He responded by collapsing atop her, pinning her to the dirt with his greater weight. "If you want to live," he ground out through his teeth-she knew because she could feel his fangs on the edge of her ear, his lips brushing the velvety shell as he spoke-, "then be still."

The doe went limp, trapped beneath his warm fur. Clenching her eyes shut in the dark, tears began to stream down her face, wetting her cheeks and his paw alike.

"Fox! We know yer there! Throw the rabbit out and there'll be no trouble from us!"

She felt the fox shift above her as he raised his head and sniffed. Then he dropped his muzzle back into her ear to whisper, "What have you done, little one, that three wolves would offer to leave me be in exchange for you?"

Answers couldn't come, since he kept his paw firmly clamped over her mouth. Not that she was especially coherent, anyway.

"Fox! I won't say it ag'in! Give us the rabbit or there'll be trouble!"

The monster shifted again, so he could lay his head against hers, burying half her face in the thick fur of his cheek as he watched the entrance.

"Last warnin'!"

She could feel his heart beating against her back. It was slower than hers, steadier, reflecting his calm. The fox didn't seem afraid at all of the three wolves barking at his door.

"Alright! You were warned!"

Silence reigned for several long moments.

"Well? Tomas, get in there."

"Wha'? Why me?"

"Yer the smallest."

"I still won' fit! And foxes use poison, I hear. Got stuff that'll make ya' puke yer guts up, for real!"

"Tha's a wives' tale."

"Think so, Tomlin? Then go in yerself!"

"Wha'? No! Asides, it was Tomsey what got his eye took. He should go in."

"Ya' frog fondlin' whoreson! I just lost my blinkin' eye, why would ya' send me in first?"

"Mind who yer calling 'whoreson', Tomsey. She's yer mother, too!"

As the three brothers devolved into bickering over who would stick their head in the hole, the fox whispered next to her, "You took a wolf's eye? Impressive, for a bunny."

"Brothers! Brothers!" the one called Tomsey called, silencing his pack mates, "Let's take another tack. Why don' we smoke 'im out?"

"Very well," said Tomlin, sarcastically. "Produce the kindlin'."

"There ain't no kindlin'," Tomas helpfully pointed out. "This snow has everythin' wet."

"Yes, Tomas, thank ye'. I hadn't noticed," Tomlin bit back, snide.

"Why ya' gotta talk like that?"

"Brothers," interrupted Tomsey before the arguing could resume. "Might we try digging them out?"

"Oh, yes, wonderful idea," came Tomlin's seemingly signature sarcastic reply. "And while we dig, I'm sure the fox won't skip right out the back."

"Fox den's have two holes, Tomsey," Tomas agreed with his brother, somewhat reluctantly.

"Can we wait them out?" Tomsey asked, sounding frustrated.

"No," said Tomlin plainly. "This fox has gone down for winter. He's enough food in there until spring. We barely have enough for two days."

"I can't just let 'em go!" Tomsey burst. "That roaster took my eye, and I won't have a pelt take my revenge for me!"

"I don't think ya' can help it," said Tomas, trying to be the voice of reason. "She's been down there for a while."

"Fox could have that coney skinned and smoked by now," agreed Tomlin.

Down in the inky dark, the doe whimpered at the thought, nightmarish visions of being skinned alive and held over a fire dancing before her eyes. The impenetrable shadow surrounding her just made the images all the more vivid.

"So, that's it? 'Sorry 'bout yer eye, Tomsey, but it's time to bugger off'?"

"Well…"

"Yeah, that's it. Sorry 'bout yer eye, Tomsey, but it is time to bugger off," Tomlin snarked.

"Damn ye', Tomlin! I'll put out yer eye and see if ya' think it's such a laugh!"

"Don't ya' show yer teeth to yer big brother! I've been telling ya' since ye' were a pup not to play with yer food! Ya' ain't nothin' to blame but yer foolishness for losin' that eye! Yer lucky that's all ya' lost."

"Lucky?! Ya' call this lucky?!"

"Yes, lucky! If that shiv went in any deeper, ya' could 'ave died. Is that how ye' want to be remembered? 'The wolf killed by a bunny.' The most shameful death since Uncle Redin, but at least it was a pred what killed 'im, even if it was a weasel."

"You oughtn't talk like that about uncle."

"What's it matter, Tomas? I'm still right. I understand yer embarrassed, Tomsey, and that's why I ran all this way, but we lost it. The rabbit's gone. Time to go."

A brief, tense silence fell over group, while down below, the doe still hadn't gotten over the "skinned and smoked" comment. Her heart was beating so fast that it felt as though it might burst.

"Fine. But imma try somethin' first. The two a yuh just wait a second," said Tomsey. "Hey, fox!" The wolf's voice seemed to double as he shouted directly into the entrance of the tunnel. "I don't want the whole rabbit! Throw me out a foot, or an ear! I wanna know she's dead!"

Every appendage the doe had twitched in rapid succession, her body seeming to take stock of them in anticipation of losing one.

But the fox didn't answer, nor did he move.

As the silence wore on, Tomsey began to grow impatient. "Dammit, fox, she took my eye! Why dontcha show a little charity! Between preds."

Still, the fox didn't reply.

"Damn ya', ya' dirty, connivin', worthless pelt! She took my eye and ye' better send me out one a' hers!"

The doe startled when something gently hit her face. It was the fox's finger, which began to thoughtfully tap, the claw hitting her cheek terrifyingly close to her eye. It was the only evidence she needed to become certain that he was going to do as the wolf demanded and remove one of her eyes. Then he would skin her and smoke her and- and-!

The fox barely noticed as the doe fainted in his grip, finally overcome by fear and exhaustion.

"Curse ya', ya blighter! I'll be back fer ya' and I'll use yer hide fer a girdle!" There was a tearing sound as the wolf destroyed the only thing that belonged to the fox that he could reach: the camouflaged cloth covering the entrance to his den. "C'mon, lads, let's get back ta mother."

As the footsteps faded away, the fox listened intently, carefully counting them to make sure the wolves hadn't sent two away to convince him they had left while leaving the third waiting by the entrance. Wolves were dolts when it came to many things, but never let it be said they weren't wily hunters.

Not that he was about to stick his head out there. They had been right about one thing: he had plenty of supplies. There was no need to risk himself just to check if they had really gone.

Once he was reasonably convinced they were alone, the fox let himself relax. "That moron broke my door," he grumbled to himself, before looking down at his surprise guest. "I don't suppose- Hm?" both eyebrows rose as he noticed how limply she lay beneath him. He pulled his paw away from over her mouth and was surprised when she slumped to the ground. Standing on all fours, he looked down to find her sprawled across the dirt beneath him, completely still.

"Oh, come on…" he grumbled as he rolled her onto her back. Her head lolled to the side, presenting him with her profile. Leaning forward, he intently studied her face for any sign she was faking, any twitch or tremble. Finding none, he hovered his paw over lips. A puff of air warmed his pads and moved his fur.

"Well, she's not dead." His nose twitched as he scented blood. Following the smell to the source, he found the wound in her side. "Yet," he amended.

He let out an aggravated sigh before raising his gaze back to her face. Reaching up, he pressed a finger under her chin and slowly rolled her head to the other side, allowing himself to see the rest of her face. As he studied her soft features, he spoke with certainty, "You are going to be trouble."

AN: Welcome to my side project: Year of Discovery. Now, what makes this a "side" project and not a main one? Updates. I will update this whenever I find the time to do so, so don't expect regular weekly updates like I strive for with Electric Eldritch Eidolon.

Now, for credits: The idea for creating an early history piece was inspired by Boney_M's wonderful fic A Rabbit Clan's Fox. However, that is where all similarity shall end. I won't be using his original clan structures, gods, faiths, etc. This story will be my own.

After I had written this and put it up for preview on Cimar's Discord channel, Cimar actually pointed out it was very similar to Lauri Laurintytär's unbelievably well written and drawn comic, Forest Tails. Let me assure everyone that this was purely by coincidence(I had never seen the comic before the similarity was pointed out) and that, starting with the second chapter, my story will no longer resemble hers(except for all the talking animals and forest settings, of course).

I would like to thank DrummerMax64 for his wonderful editing and Starfang's Secrets for her continued support.

I'll update this story Sunday evening, if I update at all. So, if the story isn't updated on Sunday, you know you're not getting an update that week.

Alright, that's everything for now. Thanks for reading.

Chapter Text

She was lost in a dark, hazy void. Pain wracked her as her body burned like fire one second then froze like ice another. The misery seemed endless.

When relief finally came, it did so in a most unexpected way. A field of violets settled around her, wrapping her up like a blanket. The soft petals kept her warm when she was cold and cooled her when was hot. The flowers whispered secrets to her and sang strange, soothing melodies. Though the pain never abated, she found the strength to fight through it, now that the violets comforted her.

Sometimes, the flowers would flow away from her, leaving her to face her torment alone. She cried out for them, begging them to return, afraid that she hadn't the strength to go on without them.

But, then they would settle around her again, she would press her face into the soft, fragrant petals and weep with joy. The violets would stroke her ears and tell her how sorry they were to leave her.

This went on for a time. It could have been an hour or an eternity, with no way to tell for sure. Then her precious violets bid her farewell and flowed away from her for the last time.

The doe woke slowly, the remnants of her dream floating about on the edge of her awareness. She lay like that a long time, unsure of whether she was asleep, or where she was, of everything.

She tried to rub her eyes, but groaned in discomfort when moving her arm revealed a deep, aching soreness that ran through her whole body. She drew herself into a loose ball, as though to shield herself from the discomfort.

However, the pain was real and proof that she was awake and alive. Focusing on it gave her the strength to fight through the fog into real awareness.

Her eyes finally opened, fluttering as she blinked the sleep away. What she found was more darkness. After a few blinks proved her eyes weren't closed, she started to use her other senses, instead. Her ears told her it was completely silent and her whiskers revealed that no wind blew. The air was cool and slightly damp.

She was underground. The realization was actually comforting. She, as a rabbit, had spent much of her life underground in her family's burrow. It was the safest place to be.

But soon, little clues began to tell her that this wasn't her home. What she lay on was too comfortable. Her family used leaves and soft soil for their beds, while what she lay upon was something else, too soft and pliable to be anything her small and unimportant clan could afford. The blanket covering her was similarly luxurious, thick and warm.

Then there was the smell. Rabbits had a certain scent, and the burrow she grew up in was soaked in it. Wherever she was, she could smell right away that she was the only rabbit to have visited in recent memory.

So, she was alone in a strange den, one that did not belong to a rabbit. Right. Time to go.

Rolling onto her front, she grunted as the soreness from earlier reasserted itself with a vengeance. She grit her teeth and fought through the pain to push herself up into a sitting position, her legs folded beneath her. The blanket fell away behind her, causing her to shiver as the cold air pressed in around her.

Just sitting up seemed to drain her. She panted with exhaustion, feeling as though a boulder sat on her chest.

I'm so tired… she thought to herself. I just woke up, why am I so tired?

Her confusion turned to dismay as another, much more alarming, realization struck.

I... I can't go outside. The first predator that sees me will have me. I couldn't outrun a badger pup like this!

"Oh, stinkweed," she cursed.

"So, you are awake," said a voice from behind her.

Ears shooting up in surprise, the doe leapt to her feet, only for a wave of dizziness and fatigue to crash through her. Eyes fluttering and ears falling limp, she collapsed back to the mattress.

"Easy there, little one. You've been sick for quite a while. I wouldn't move too much if I were you," the voice cautioned, the words only half understood as the doe's head swam.

When something touched her shoulder, she automatically swung an arm towards it and cried out. "No! Don't touch me!"

As weak as she was, her blow merely bounced off some unseen limb. Nonetheless, the touch withdrew. From somewhere above her, the hidden creature said, "What a gracious guest you are," it was definitely a he, with a masculine, if sardonic, voice. "Attacking me, your savior, as soon as you wake. If this is how bunnies treat their friends, it's no wonder you don't have any."

Desperately scooting away from the voice, the doe spoke into the dark, "What are you talking about? Savior?"

"Oh, I suppose you don't remember?" the voice asked, disembodied but somehow still too close. "You were fleeing for your life and fell into my den."

The words stopped her short. Memories came flooding to the surface, filling her with a new sense of urgency. "The wolves!" she cried out as she once again jumped to her feet. "My family! Oh…"

Nearly blacking out, she collapsed again. This time, something caught her as she fell. One big, strong paw easily held her aloft as the other wrapped the thick blanket around her. She tried to push the paws away, but they easily ignored her.

"No, I have to… I have to save them…" she protested, voice breathy and weak.

"Dumb bunny," the voice in the dark admonished as it tucked her in. "You couldn't save a spot at a supper table, the way you are now."

The fact that he was absolutely right brought tears to her eyes. Why, she could no longer even muster the strength to push the blanket off.

Then she remembered exactly what it was that held her captive. "You're a fox, aren't you? What are you going to do me?" Her voice trembled, sounding very small.

The paws stilled where they had been pressing the blanket in around her before silently withdrawing. The fox sighed, a sound that she had hard time interpreting. Was it sad? Annoyed? She couldn't tell.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.

"Foxes eat rabbits," she replied, accusingly.

"It is not the only thing we do," he reasoned back. "I, for one, like to think I can do a great many different things. Including saving rabbits."

"But, you're a fox," she sobbed, confused and afraid.

"That makes me a monster, does it? A thoughtless beast devouring all in its path!" His voice rose, sounding impossibly huge and angry in the dark, cramped space of the den.

The doe cringed and trembled beneath the covers, eyes clenched in fright.

Above her, the fox sighed again. "I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated. "The fact that you're alive now is proof of that," he reasoned, voice softer than before.

Silence settled over them, thick and uncomfortable. The doe trembled again, more violently than before, teeth chattering. Even with the blanket, the cold seeped deep into her being.

Her eyes snapped open in shock when thick, warm fur settled around her. "What are you doing?" she asked, bewildered.

"Making sure you don't move," the fox answered simply as he curled his body around her, laying his head on her blanketed lap. "You rabbits can't be trusted. This is the best way to make sure you don't get into mischief while I sleep. If you try anything, I'll know," he warned. Then he lay his tail over his snout and quieted, effectively ending the conversation.

The doe lay there, slightly panicked to realize her legs were trapped beneath the fox's head. However, the warmth of his body was undeniable as it spread through her. Exhaustion began to pull at her, forcing her eyes closed no matter how she fought to keep them open.

Just before sleep claimed her, she took one last deep breath… and noticed something odd.

He smells like violets…

Shards of memory flitted in and out of focus.

She was a kit, no taller than her mother's hip, staring at the ground as she was scolded by that same mother for taking a pretend sword duel too far. She nearly took her poor brother's eye out with that stick.

Now, nearly an adult, she trained with a spear she made herself, an ugly, off balance thing, but one she diligently maintained.

Again a kit, she sat in a group of her siblings under the shade of a great tree as her grandfather entranced them with stories of the world and the many dangerous predators that lived there. Of all the bunnies there, the little doe was the only one smiling.

She thought she was ready. She thought she had trained enough, but when she stabbed her beloved spear towards the wolf's belly, he reached out with one paw and snapped it like a twig.

When she awoke again, it was less difficult than before, without any confusion or sluggishness.

The first thing she noticed was the smell of smoke and a savory, mouth-watering aroma. Something was cooking. The second thing she noticed was that she was cold and no great body was curled atop her. Her captor… savior?... the fox was absent.

Feeling a little more rested than before, she propped herself up on her elbows. With a groan of discomfort, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The blanket that covered her fell to her lap, exposing her to the air and making her shiver.

Since she was still lost in darkness, her other senses took over. Long ears rose to full prominence as she took in every sound. The first thing she heard was a fire crackling, but under that was… humming?

She leaned forward, ears twitching as she strained to hear more. It was a deep, melancholy tune, one that she was sure she had never heard before, but she felt strangely familiar with. It was like something from a dream.

Just then, her stomach growled, sounding to her ears like a dull roar in the quiet of the den. She gasped and clutched her stomach, suddenly aware of the terrible gnawing sensation in her gut.

The humming cut out in the next room, but she didn't notice because she had made a new discovery: she didn't feel cloth under her fingers. Using both paws, she desperately patted her chest and shoulders, but she only felt one thing: bare fur.

Where's my vest!?

She thrust one paw beneath the covers, only for her ears and expression to sink in horrified dismay.

WHERE'S MY BRITCHES!?

The fox spoke up from somewhere to her right, probably by the entrance of the bed chamber, "Oh, good-"

Both paws grabbed the blanket and yanked it up to her shoulders. She turned towards the voice and shouted in panic, "Why am I naked!?"

There was a brief, surprised silence, but then the fox explained. "You had a wound in your side that had to be checked. Your shirt got in the way. You've been out of it for a few days and I had to clean you. Your leggings got in the way of that," he said, unperturbed.

"You cleaned me?" she squeaked, mortified.

The fox snorted derisively. "Of course I did. You were stinking up the place. I don't know how bunnies are, but foxes don't let their dens smell like cesspits."

She shifted away uneasily as she felt him settle on the mattress next to her. "Where are you going?" he asked. "I made soup."

Just the mention of food made her stomach growl voraciously and she froze on the spot. The fox chuckled. "You should listen to your stomach. It's obviously smarter than your head," he teased.

Naked in the presence of her most feared predator and humiliated by her own body, the doe felt a hot blush rising up the back of her neck and spreading up her ears. She ducked her head and pressed her ears to her back.

"I… I can't see," she admitted softly.

"Well, not everyone can be as gifted as I," the fox said, voice somewhere between comforting and sardonic. This time, when the mattress shifted next to her, she didn't move away, though she held the blanket a little tighter to her chest.

"Here, put out your paws," he said, wanting to give her the bowl.

The doe trembled in place, clutching the blanket even tighter.

An aggravated sigh blew through the fur on the top of her head. When a large paw cupped the back of her neck, the bunny cringed down, trying to disappear between her shoulders. Then, she felt something warm hover next her lip and her nose was flooded with the savory scent of a hearty stew. "Blow," the fox ordered.

Uncoiling slightly, the doe couldn't help but sniff the meal before her, little bunny nose bouncing curiously. She was tempted, but a fox made it! She didn't know what was in it. Could be anything…

When she hesitated, she could actually hear the fox roll his eyes. "Don't worry, there's no meat in this. But, it is hot, so blow," he ordered again.

Pursing her lips, she did as told, blowing a cooling breath across the bowl. Then he held it to her lips. "Slowly," he warned.

As she sampled her first fox's stew, the doe couldn't help but be surprised. She had half expected it to taste disgusting, like fresh meat and blood, but, if anything, it tasted better than it smelled. Appetite asserting itself, she tried to gulp it.

"Ah-ah!" The fox admonished, pulling the bowl away from her. "Dumb bunny, do you not know what slowly means?"

"I'm sorry," the doe said. "I'm just so hungry…"

"I understand that, I really do," he said as he brought the delicious stew back to her needy lips. "But you still need to drink slowly."

It took almost more self-control than she thought she had, but the doe managed to restrain herself. When he pulled the bowl back to let her breath, she sighed with pleasure, enjoying the sensation as the warm broth settled into her belly. "It tastes so good…"

"I'm glad you like it," the fox said, sounding pleased with himself. Then he brought it in for another sip.

It was a large bowl, meant for a fox, so when she finished it, she felt as though she'd had three servings instead of one. Now, thoroughly fed and warmed, she felt much better.

When the fox drew away, she felt she had to say something. "Thank you."

"Hm? Oh, you're welcome. It's about time someone appreciated my cooking."

"Not that- I mean, yes, thank you for the meal, it was wonderful- I meant thank you… for saving my life." It was strange, saying something so important to a stranger, and one she couldn't even see. She ducked her head, suddenly feeling very shy. The fact she was naked with only a blanket to cover herself made it even more awkward.

"Oh, that…" the fox trailed off, seeming at a loss for words.

"Not just that," she continued, trying to fill in the silence. "You kept me warm and gave me your bed and now you feed me from your winter stores and you…" She hesitated, the idea of what he had to do for her while she was too sick to look after herself making her blush. "...cared for me when I was ill. My clan's allies wouldn't have treated me so well." She had to pause to take a deep breath. "So… thank you. For everything. You've treated a stranger like a friend and I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Well, of course I treated you better than your allies would. Foxes are better at everything, including being friendly," he said, playfully pompous. It made her smile, just a bit. "As for repayment, you can start by telling me your name."

Straightening, she spoke confidently and with pride, even though she couldn't actually see who she was presenting herself to. "My name is Judy Hopps."

Unseen, the fox smiled, amused. "Hello, Judy Hopps. Good fortunes upon you."

Judy waited for a few moments, but when it seemed the fox was content to hold his peace, she asked, "May I know your name?"

"Well, I'm not sure. To know my name is a great pleasure, and you are already deep in my debt. Dare you risk knowing?"

She closed her eyes so he wouldn't see them roll, a trick she had learned from dealing with her mother. "Yes, I dare."

"Oh. Well, in that case, my name is Nick Wilde."

Chapter Text

The morning was bright, and the sky was clear.

The newly repaired drape rustled as Nick pushed it aside. Sticking his head out, he scanned the area with a long turn of his head. Seeing nothing but trees and snow, he withdrew.

A moment later, the drape rustled as Nick pushed it aside again. This time, though, it wasn't his head that poked through, but his tail. As he slowly backed out of the entrance, it was revealed he wore only a pair of dark tan, ankle length breeches, not needing anything else due to his thick winter coat.

Once he was through, Judy slowly stepped out into the snow after him, leaning heavily on his arm. Once again, she wore her earthy brown vest and knee length breeches, but this time all covered up in a dark green cloak her host had leant her. Though her breathing was heavy, her eyes glinted determinedly and her jaw was stubbornly set.

After taking a few steps out, she tugged on Nick's arm, signalling them to stop. Looking up at him as he looked down, she gave him a firm nod. The fox let her go, Judy straightened up and she took a few shaky, but unassisted steps.

Then she stopped, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, relishing the clean, cold air that filled her lungs and the bright sunshine that warmed her face.

Behind her, Nick leaned against the rough bark next to the entrance. He tucked one paw under the opposite arm, then brought the other paw up to scratch under his chin. An amused smirk played over his lips as he watched the doe enjoy the morning through half-lidded eyes.

After a moment, Judy opened her eyes and began to look around. She was disheartened to find that she did not recognize any of the surrounding trees. Even the tracks she and the wolves left were gone.

"Looking for something?"

She jumped a bit at the unexpected voice, ears springing up. Turning to face him, she blinked as she got her first clear look at the fox that saved her life. He was tall, standing head and shoulders over her, even including her ears. His long, lean frame was coated in thick, colorful fur, with an overcoat of rich vermillion, paws, ear and tail tipped in coal, and throat, chest and belly done in soft creme. Eyes greener than spring sparkled intelligently from under heavy lids.

"Uh, I was just," she stuttered a bit, ears falling limp behind her as she was taken off guard by how handsome he was. She'd never seen such gorgeous fur! "I was trying to get my bearings," she managed to say. "Can you point me the way to Hopp's Hill?"

The fox nodded sagely. "I can."

There was a long moment of silence as Judy waited for him to continue.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, she couldn't wait anymore. "Will you?" she prodded.

The fox nodded again, the corners of his lips twitching. "Yes."

This time, Judy didn't wait, thinking she had the solution to his game. "Please, tell me."

The fox nodded a third time. "No."

Judy blinked and stared, befuddled. "But- but you said you would."

"And I will. Just not right now," Nick explained, waving his raised paw to the side.

"Why not?"

"Because you're not strong enough to travel, yet."

Blinking again as her confusion increased, Judy shook her head. "What does that mean? What does one have to do with the other?"

Nick tilted his head curiously, one ear falling back and one pointing straight up. "You mean to tell me that, if you knew the way home, you wouldn't be tempted to leave right away? Even though you're much too weak for the journey."

Judy opened her mouth, a denial on her lips, only to have Nick's knowing stare stop her short. She lowered her gaze to the snow, embarrassed. "Just a little…" she muttered.

"That's what I thought," Nick said as he pushed off the tree. He took the few steps to Judy's side. He noted how the rabbit shrunk a little at his approach and kept a, if not fearful, than at least careful, eye on his paws. "It's time to go back."

Vivid violets jumped from his clawed fingertips to his face. "What? No, please! Can't we stay out for just a little while?" She begged, eyes wide and paws clasped together in supplication

Verdant eyes rolled in their sockets at the childish display. "When you fell into my den you were nearly run to death. Then you came down with the worst corruption I've seen, with a head so hot it boiled snow and a body so cold it made me shiver to touch it. That's twice you took a peek behind the Curtain, and you won't survive a third. Now come in before you get the chills," he scolded.

The doe glanced at the camouflaged curtain, before looking back up at him. "Please, let me stay for just a little longer. You're cloak is keeping me very warm, so I know I won't get the chills."

The fox fisted his paws on his hips and shot her a look as cold as the snow. "Is my home so terrible to you that you would rather risk your death than go back?"

Judy opened her mouth, but found she didn't have any words. Letting her still intertwined paws drop to her lap, she gazed ashamedly at the snow. "No. I'm sorry for being such an awful guest. Thank you for taking me into your home in my time of need," she said, sounding genuinely miserable at the thought of offending her host.

Nick's reproach rapidly evaporated in the face of Judy's contrition. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he relaxed his stiff backed posture.

Judy squeaked when Nick crouched and swept her off her feet. Suddenly in his arms, she blinked in surprise as she found herself pressed into his thick, warm fur. Then, just as suddenly, he deposited her on one of the thick tree roots.

"Fine, we can stay outside a little while," Nick said as he grabbed one of her ankles. "but only if you stay out of the snow." So saying, he swept the cold powder from her toes, tucked the foot in, grabbed the other and did the same. Then he tucked the cloak in under them, sealing everything but her head in from the cold.

Judy stared at him in bewilderment for a moment, then beamed when she realized that he was granting her request. "Thank you, Mr. Wilde!" she chirped.

He settled on the root next to her with a sigh. "Please, call me Nick."

AN: I make no excuses for how long this took. I warned you at the beginning it would be sporadic. That being said, I'll try to update this more often.

Chapter Text

Deep in an ancient forest, there was a great tree, taller and wider than its neighbors. Winter had stolen its leaves away; its bare branches grasping at the sky like a thousand spindly fingers.

Though there was snow upon the ground, the air was growing warm. A grey rabbit wearing only a simple vest and britches lounged upon one of its great roots, paws folded under her head and long, rounded ears draped over her shoulders.

Using a thick cloak to protect herself from the rough bark, she stretched languidly over it, eyes closed and face toward the sky. As she felt the sun's warmth play over her fur and breathed the fresh, crisp air, she sighed with pleasure.

But, she wasn't alone.

Black-tipped, pointed ears appeared from beside the root, right next to the bunny's head. They swiveled forward, focusing on the dozing rabbit. For a moment, that was all they did, twitching in tune with her relaxed breathing.

The ears began to rise as the creature they were attached to stood to his full height. The sun at his back cast his features in shadows. Green, slit eyes glinted from the darkness as lips pulled back to reveal rows of pointed, pearly white teeth. Paws rose up and flexed, poised to sink their claws into the bunny.

One of the paws happened to pass before the sun, casting a shadow over the doe's face. Disturbed by the lack of warmth, she stirred. Just as her eyes opened, the creature struck.

"BOO!"

"EEP!" Eyes wide, the startled doe jerked away, arms and legs flailing, only to fall off the side of the root and land face first on the snow-covered ground. Her front now covered in dirty snow, she jumped to her feet and turned to face her attacker.

What she found instead was a familiar fox, now lounging upon the cloak-covered branch, eyes closed, with his paws laced comfortably behind his head; exactly as she had been.

Judy glowered. "Nick! Why did you do that!?"

"Oh, for the fun of it, I suppose. You bunnies are just so cute when you're scared," the fox drawled. With his closed eyes and relaxed smile, it looked for all the world like he was simply enjoying the sun's warmth.

Huffing, the doe began to swipe the snow off her vest. "I wish you wouldn't tease me so much," she grumbled crossly.

Rolling his head towards Judy, Nick cracked one eye open just enough to glare at her. "I wish you wouldn't sneak out of the den so much."

Admonishment given, he closed his eye and turned his face back to the sun. "But, I suppose we don't all get what we want. 'If wishes were fishes' and all that."

Judy paused, then swiped the last bit of snow from her britches with a sigh. "You shouldn't worry so much. I'm strong enough to take care of myself."

Eyes still closed, the fox frowned. "Only a dumb bunny would say such a thing. Of course I should worry." Opening his eyes, Nick turned his head to raise a brow at Judy's confused look. "How will a dead bunny pay her debt? As for being strong enough…"

Nick stretched out on the root and turned so he was on his side. Still only wearing his linen pants, the shirtless fox's long, sleek body was displayed. Propping his head up on his palm, Nick gazed at Judy with half-lidded skepticism.

"Strength doesn't mean anything if somebunny is too tired to notice a fox about to have his wicked way with her. Are you as recovered from your peek behind the Veil as you think?"

Blinking at the thought of whatever a fox's wicked way was, Judy still managed to draw herself up to look her host in the eye. "I'm as strong as I've ever been. I could run all the way to Hopp's Hill, if you would just point the way."

"I doubt it," Nick plainly disagreed. He scratched at his hip, bored with this topic. He'd lost count of how many times the rabbit had insisted she was well enough to travel over the last two days.

It was actually why he had left to forage even though his stores didn't need replenishing, to finally have some peace and quiet away from the determined bunny. Upon his return, he'd been annoyed to find her dozing in the open, where any predator might snatch her away. It was that annoyance that had inspired him to play his little trick.

"You'd stop to rest," Nick continued. "Probably fall asleep out in the open and get carried off by an owl."

Judy glared, affronted to be accused of doing something so foolish. "I would not!" Judy stomped her foot for emphasis, her paws fisted at her sides. "I'm not a dullard!"

Nick went from scratching his hip to just above his tail, all the while staring at Judy, half-lidded, uncaring, and unimpressed. "Says the dullard who didn't notice me approach until I shouted in her ear. I might as well call you owl's dinner."

Judy flushed, humiliated by the fox's words, made all the more galling by the fact that they rang true. Nick, the fox, had stalked right up to her and she hadn't even noticed. Still, her pride wouldn't allow her to just accept his words. Crossing her arms, she glared at the ground as she grumbled, "Owls have been killed on sight for as long as anyone can remember. There aren't any left to carry me off."

Finally done with his scratching, Nick draped his arm over his side. "What about that red turkey you little prey are always on about?"

Raising her head, Judy stared at Nick with both brows raised, perplexed. "Red turkey-? You mean the Blood-Crested Eagle? That's a story told to scare naughty kits. A stiff breeze is more likely to carry me off."

"As small as you are, a stiff breeze just might. Nope!" Nick yelled, cutting off Judy before she could respond. The fox sat up on the branch, his feet dangling off the side.

"It's much too dangerous. Unless…" Nick tapped his chin with a clawed finger while his eyes rolled thoughtfully. "...someone was there to grab you before you flew away."

Judy's head cocked in confusion. "What?"

Nick rolled his eyes. Apparently, the only thing flying around here was clever allusions over clueless heads. "I'm offering to escort you home, dumb bunny."

"Oh." Judy blinked at the fox in surprise. "Why would you do that?"

Nick smiled patiently, as though he were dealing with a particularly dim child. "You are aware of the debt you owe me, right? You have nothing with you, so won't you have to go home to retrieve something of value?"

"Well… yes," Judy answered slowly. "But, my clan is poor. There won't be much of a ransom."

"That's fine. I'm sure we can find some..." Nick said. His green eyes began to wander down Judy's body. "...arrangement."

Unprepared for this strange shift, Judy held her arms over her chest as though to ward off Nick's gaze. "W-what do you mean?" she squeaked.

Nick leaned forward, prompting Judy to shrink back from his intense gaze. "Has anyone ever told you, you have a nice… vest?"

Judy stared at Nick as though he had lost his mind. "My vest?"

"It looks well made," Nick continued, eyeing Judy's clothes. "Your britches, too. Where do you get that fabric?"

"My clan makes it," Judy answered faintly, utterly bewildered.

"Really?" Nick asked, raising his eyes back to Judy's. "Do you make enough to share?"

Realizing that the fox's interest had not been impure gave Judy some relief. "Yes," she said, sounding more confident than before. "Plenty. It's our main trade."

"Excellent!" Nick declared with a grin. "We'll go to your clan's home together, you can get me a bolt of that fine cloth, and I'll consider your debt paid in full."

After spending weeks together in the same den, Judy no longer feared the fox. He had many poor qualities, his barbed tongue chief among them, but he wasn't dangerous. Other mammals would have let her die, or insisted on her being their servant in exchange for saving her life. Instead, he had taken her into his home and cared for her, asking only for something her family could easily provide in return. Judy knew he could be trusted.

Her family, on the other paw, did not know that. They were fearfully suspicious at the best of times, and so soon after what happened with the wolves, it was far from the best of times. An uneasy feeling grew in Judy's chest at the thought of what they might do at the sight of Nick, causing her to balk at his suggestion.

No, bringing Nick to her home was a bad idea. Telling him that felt like a worse idea. Judy had to convince him not to come without actually telling him.

How? Well, from what Judy had observed of his behavior, the fox slept often and enjoyed lazing about. Maybe she could appeal to his slothful nature.

"Do you really want to walk that far? I really can make it on my own. I'll bring back the cloth," Judy offered, trying to sound helpful.

Nick raised an eyebrow, looking quite incredulous at her suggestion. "What, I'm just supposed to believe you'll come back if I let you go?"

"I said I would," Judy insisted. "There's no need for you to go!"

Tilting his head, Nick took a moment to consider the persistent rabbit before him. Slowly, a sly smirk spread across his lips. "You are not as foolish as I thought."

Judy blinked, feeling like she had swung a fist and missed: confused, surprised, and off balance. "What do you mean?"

"It's never wise to lead a fox to your home. You never can tell what one of those vile tricksters might do."

Eyes wide and ears wilting, Judy stared at Nick in dismay. Fearing she had offended her host, she tried to backtrack. "Mr. Wilde, I didn't- I'm sorry, that's not-"

"No, no. You're right." Nick waved off Judy's stuttered attempts at an apology with a smile. "Trusting is a dangerous thing. I won't ask it of you anymore."

"Mr. Wilde, please-"

"I told you to call me Nick," the fox interrupted.

"Nick. I can explain-"

"No need," Nick said, interrupting once again. "I understand completely. You don't want to go home if it means I come along. That just means you'll have to stay with me a little while longer. I told you I'd point you the way when you were strong enough, and I meant it.

"Good news!" Nick continued, riding roughshod over Judy's attempt to get a word in. "This warm weather has brought you a gift." Leaning back as he spoke, the fox reached for something from behind the root.

When he sat back up, a simple, modest sack hung in his grip. Leaning forward, he shoved it into Judy's paws. "I know you don't like being in the den, so feel free to sit out here and enjoy the sunshine."

Pushing off the root, Nick stood to leave. Before he turned away, he winked at the doe and teased, "No naps though, or I really will start calling you owl's dinner."

Feeling like the worst screw up in the history of screw ups, Judy stared helplessly after the fox as he disappeared around the trunk of the tree.

Once she was alone, Judy's eyes dropped to the little cloth sack in her paws. A sinking feeling in her gut told her she wasn't going to like what she found, but her curiosity would not be denied. A mouthwatering aroma spilled forth, making her nose twitch. Now with a mounting sense of dread, she pulled the bag open.

It was filled with fresh, young sweetgrass; common enough in spring, summer and fall, but a treat in the long, hungry months of winter. Experience told her that, with how much of the ground was still covered in snow, it would have taken Nick hours to fill even this modest pouch.

Judy felt like the scum of the earth and she hated it. She had to redeem herself. There was only one thing she could think to do.

Clenching the little treasure to her chest, the rabbit turned and chased after the fox. They had travel plans to make.

Author's Note: Special thanks to:

SovietMD

Starfang's Secrets

DrummerMax64

BCRE8TVE

Erinnyes

Leroidatboi

For your continued help and support. Thank you for helping me make this a worthwhile story.

P.S. Expect a chapter of EEE in two weeks.

Chapter Text

When not running for your life from blood-thirsty wolves, Judy supposed the walk from Nick's tree to her ancestral home under Hopp's Hill could be traversed in a day, if you began at first light, pushed yourself a bit and didn't stop for breaks or meals.

At least, this is how Judy would have made the trip. Nick, on the other paw, had no intention of following such a harsh travel plan.

"Nick! Why are we still here?!"

The sun was up and it was time to go. Judy, wearing her vest, britches and the cloak Nick lent her, was ready to finally make the trek home and exited the den, only to discover the fox kneeling by a modest fire pit, tending to a clay pot filled with water nestled in the burning coals. A hollowed out gourd in paw acted as his ladle.

Unperturbed by the rabbit shouting in his ear, Nick's focus remained on his humble meal. Reaching out, he dropped a lump of fat into the water. After a moment of watching the waxy blob melt, he spared Judy a glance.

"It's a long walk, and it's still cold. I want something warm before we leave. Who knows when we'll get another chance to have a hot meal?"

"We can eat when we get there! My family will feed you so much you'll burst!" Judy shot back, waving her arms over her head before throwing them down to her sides. "Can we please just go?"

Turning his gaze back to the pot, Nick tutted at Judy like she was an impatient child. Stirring the simple broth with his ladle, the corners of Nick's mouth twitched upward as he heard the slightly muffled thumpthumpthump of a furry, padless foot rapidly beating the frosty soil. Deciding he'd had his fun, he grabbed one of the wooden bowls by his feet and scooped some broth into it.

"It's ready," Nick informed as he held the bowl out for Judy to take. When she crossed her arms and turned her nose up, he pulled the bowl back. With a careless shrug, he turned back to the fire.

"Hm. I think I made too much broth for just one. It'd be a shame to waste, though. I'll have to sit here until I can finish it all. Might take a while."

Judy's head snapped back to Nick, her best glare on display. If it bothered the fox at all, he showed no sign of discomfort or annoyance.

Placing the full bowl on the ground by his side, Nick grabbed the other, empty bowl, and filled it. He spoke as he did, seemingly to himself, but too loudly for anyone who would have been nearby to believe it wasn't meant for her ears. "If only someone would help me drink this delicious brew, I would be able to leave much, much faster."

For a moment, the rapid thump of Judy's foot on the ground sped up until her toes nearly blurred from sight. Then, with an accompanying huff, the foot stopped. Still glaring fiercely, the rabbit stepped forward, plopped herself in the snow and grabbed the bowl Nick had put down.

Nick went still, watching from the corner of his eye as Judy blew the steam off her hot broth. His gaze remained on her as she brought the bowl to her lips. Her impatient glare relaxed a bit as she took her first, careful sip. The second sip smoothed her features entirely as she began to enjoy the warmth the simple meal brought on that chilly morning. On the third sip, she hummed in appreciation. Nick smiled, turning his gaze away to look to his own bowl.

After their simple meal, Nick returned to the den to grab his pack. It wasn't like any Judy had seen before, a strange thing made from two sticks tied in a cross. A satchel was tied to the horizontal stick, and from it's stuffed appearance it was clearly filled with something. Hanging from the top of the vertical stick was a pot, a pan, a little net filled with dry food, a small hatchet with a stone head, and other odds and ends. Most bizarrely of all, Nick didn't wear the pack: he grabbed the long, vertical stick and slung it over his shoulder, letting his supplies dangle down his back.

Judy was tempted to delay their journey a bit to study the odd contraption, but her urgent need to get home quashed her curiosity.

They were off, with Nick patiently allowing Judy to hurry them along to make up for the lost time, and they made good progress.

As the hours passed, the sun rose, and the temperature along with it. As the chill died away, Judy stopped clutching her borrowed cloak so tightly about her, and as the air grew ever warmer, let it fall back completely, the cloth hanging only by the knot around her neck, exposing her vest and britches. Nick, being shirtless and cloakless, had nothing so obvious to mark the rising heat, though he did begin to pant a bit.

For that matter, Judy's breathing was getting a little haggard, too. Nick's ears twitched as he noted the change. Letting himself lag behind, he took the opportunity to scrutinize his traveling companion without her noticing. Her ears, usually perfectly erect and trim, ready to detect the slightest noise, were beginning to droop. Her shoulders, likewise, were showing the first signs of sagging. Her strides, while still long and purposeful, weren't quite as fast as they were when they started.

Glancing up, the fox squinted as he noted the sun was at its zenith. By his reckoning, they were a little over halfway to Hopp's Hill.

Coming to a decision, the fox called out, "Break!"

When Judy turned around, she barely saw the tip of Nick's tail as it disappeared around a tree. She cried out, "Hang on!"

Taking off, Judy curved sharply around the tree, only to skid to a stop as she found her companion. The fox was already sitting at the tree's base, reclining in a little divot between two upturned roots where the snow had melted away and left a bed of reasonably dry leaves. His strange pack lay next to him.

Judy watched in disbelief as Nick grabbed his canteen from where it hung off the top of the pack. The cork popping out stirred her to action. "We can't take a break now!" As she protested, she bent forward at the waist and waved her arms, her little tuft of a tail sticking straight up and twitching with her agitation. "If we don't hurry, there's no way we'll make it back by dark!"

Seeming just as unbothered by the rabbit yelling into his ear as that morning, Nick raised his canteen, said, "There's always enough time to appreciate a drink," and took a swig.

The sheer frustration she felt had Judy stomping her foot. "Why are you making this difficult!?"

As Nick lowered the canteen, he drew up one leg and rested his arm across his knee. "You're the one being difficult, little bunny. Sit down, relax…" A pause, a sidelong glance. "Catch your breath."

Judy leaned back, frowning with dismay. She had been pestering the fox for days to make the trip to Hopp's Hill, but he had denied her, saying that she wasn't well enough to make the trip. Well, she felt fine, and what would a fox know about a rabbit's health?

Well, more than her, apparently. The first half of the morning, she had felt fine, but then she had crossed over some invisible line. A growing fatigue began to set in, along with an ache in her chest and a shortness of breath. It felt like she'd been walking for two whole days instead of just half of one.

Judy thought she hid the signs from her companion, but now she knew otherwise. It was obvious he was taking the break for her sake, and, after all the grief she had given him over the delay this morning, she was embarrassed to be the one now slowing them down.

Rather than make any more a fool of herself, Judy sat upon one of the upturned roots that made up the divot Nick was resting in. In an effort to preserve a little dignity, she didn't allow herself to sag as her body would have liked rather, she kept her back straight, closed her eyes and focused on evening out her as quietly as possible.

"Here."

When Judy opened her eyes, she found Nick looking at her, holding his open canteen in one outstretched paw. More parched than she would have liked to admit, she took the foxsized water ration with both paws and a murmured thanks.

Bringing the canteen to her lips, Judy took a pull of the refreshingly cold liquid inside. When she was done, rather than return the canteen, she held it in her lap and examined it.

It was strange to her. The only time Judy saw water carried, it was in big clay jugs on a trader's wagon. She had also heard rumors whispered among her kin that predators would carry their fluids(whether it was water or the blood of their victims changed depending on who was talking) in bags made of skin.

This wasn't either of those. First inspection showed three parts: The strap, the mouth and the body. The strap was merely common rope made from plant fiber. The mouth was much more surprising: it was made from bronze. Rare in these parts, and highly sought after, Judy only recognized it because her father, as head of the family, carried a ceremonial dagger made of the stuff.

The body was a squat cylinder, made of something Judy had never seen before. Shiny and silver, and when Judy tapped it with a claw, she found it was quite hard, and gave a metallic tink!

Judy's inspection was interrupted by Nick snatching it from her grip. When she looked up, she found him holding the canteen up to his eye, closely inspecting the point she tapped with her claw. Seeing no mark, he turned to put it away.

"Easy on the merchandise, Fluff. I won't be getting another," Nick admonished as he strapped the canteen back to the frame.

"What is it made from?" Judy asked with a curious tilt of the head. "It's metal, but not copper, or bronze, and I've never heard of anyone using metal to drink, anyway. And your pack-" her gaze settled on the strange cross of sticks and it varied accoutrements. "I've never seen one like it. Did you make it yourself? Why do you have so much gear for such a short trip? Are you a merchant? Are you going to-?"

"Well, everyone seems to have caught their breath," Nick muttered sardonically as he pushed off the tree to stand.

Grabbing his pack, Nick slung it over his shoulder. Once it was properly situated, he turned, guided Judy to stand, and began to herd her back to the trail, the little bunny chattering all the while.

"Are you going to trade with my family? If you want to, I'd be glad to vouch for you! You've been very kind to me. Like I said, we have cloth, but we also have some hardy vegetables to trade, and we make weavings and jewelry and-"

The shadows of forest grew long as the sun neared the horizon. The familiar winter's chill began to return, causing Nick to shiver as the afternoon warmth was sapped away.

Judy, by contrast, barely seemed to notice. The trees and the terrain were becoming less and less strange, more and more familiar. Ears perking and eyes widening as she looked about, excitement began to course through her.

"I know this place!"

The farther they traveled, the more exhausted and subdued Judy had seemed, so the doe suddenly darting away took Nick by surprise.

"Rabbit! Hey!" Leaning forward, Nick took off after her. The fox chased the rabbit through the brush, grunting and cursing as twigs and branches clawed at his fur.

Judy turned sharply around a tree, disappearing from sight. Nick went to follow, but as soon as he did, he was blinded by a cloth landing on his face.

Skidding to a halt, the fox spluttered in surprise as he tore the offending cloth off his face. Looking at it, he was surprised to see it was his own cloak, the very same he had lent to Judy. Glancing around, he was confounded to see that the rabbit was missing.

"Where in Lupa's name did she go…?"

As he scanned about for his wayward guest, Nick's ears twitched as he heard something. Raising his head, his eyes widened as he caught sight of Judy climbing into the canopy.

After spending a moment gawking, Nick called out, "I didn't know rabbits climbed trees!"

Standing on a thick branch, Judy paused in her ascent long enough to look over her shoulder, an excited grin stretched across her stubby muzzle, putting her prominent front teeth on display. She called back, "Only the ones with lookouts in them!"

Looking upward, Judy called to what looked like a large bird's nest, but she knew was actually a platform disguised as one. One that always had a Hopp's bunny in it during daylight to act as a sentry, "Hail!"

Judy paused, expecting a set of long ears to appear over the side of the nest. When none appeared, she tried again.

"Hail!"

No response.

Smile dimming as confusion began to overtake excitement, Judy wondered why the sentry wasn't responding. Glancing down, she spotted Nick on the ground, staring cluelessly up at her.

Wait. Nick. The Fox.

"Oh!" Judy cried, turning back to the nest. Thinking the sentry was probably cowering in the lookout, she scrambled the rest of the way up, rushing to explain as she did. "You don't need to worry about the fox! He means no harm! He saved my life and has been very kind to me. He's a friend…!"

Down below, Nick ducked as Judy's rush through the branches dislodged chunks of snow, peppering him with icy bits.

Reaching the nest, Judy grabbed the edge and pulled herself up, only to freeze as she found something that was, to her experience, impossible: the platform was empty.

After shaking the snow from his fur, Nick looked up again. After a moment of seeing and hearing no movement, he shouted, "Hey, rabbit! If you wanted to get away from me, you sure picked a bad spot to hide!"

Nick's voice startled Judy out of her stupor. Shaking her head, she pulled herself the rest of the way into the nest, rolling into some snow that had yet to melt. Once in, she turned and leaned over the edge to call back down.

"The lookout isn't here! There's always supposed to be a lookout!"

Hearing a note of panic in the doe's voice, Nick rushed to offer an explanation. "Maybe he left to report an approaching fox to the clan?" As the ramifications of what he just said hit home, the fox began to glance around, nervously eyeing the surrounding brush. "Actually, could you come down here before I'm overrun by a horde of angry bunnies? I need my emissary."

Judy blinked as she realized that, with the way she ran right up to the tree, and with Nick following, it would have looked like he was chasing her. If the sentry reported such a thing to her family, it would whip them into a frenzy.

"I'll be right there!"

Just as she swung up a leg to go over the side of the nest, a crunch from below drew her attention down. It was her foot, buried in snow.

That struck her as odd. Turning back to the nest, Judy finally took note of the fact that the tiny floor space was covered in snow.

Judy had been a sentry more than a few times. In the winter, it was considered one of the worst duties to have. It was lonely, boring, and the cold air constantly nipped at your ears, but you had to keep them up or you weren't worth much as a sentry. The only thing that could make the task even more intolerable would be to sit in the snow while you did it. Every sentry, without fail, dug the snow out of the lookout and dumped it into the forest below.

But that's not what Judy was seeing. There was still snow in the nest and, worse still, it was undisturbed. She was the first living thing to enter the nest since...

"Nick? When was the last snowfall?"

Pulled from his nervous watch of the area, Nick looked back up, blinking at the odd question. Judging from Judy's worried tone, he decided it was important enough to give a straightforward answer.

"Nearly a fortnight."

Judy's heart clenched. Fourteen days. No one had been in this lookout for at least fourteen days.

Something was wrong.

Judy threw herself out of the nest and scrambled down through the branches, going so fast that she looked more like she was falling than climbing down.

Nick's eyes widened as he watched Judy's reckless descent. Deducing that she had no intention of slowing down, he dropped his pack and threw himself into her path, his outstretched arms catching her just before she would have hit the ground.

"Rabbit, what-!"

Judy kicked and shoved her way out of Nick's arms, nearly taking his head off in the process. She took off at full speed the instant her feet touched the soil. "My family!" she cried as her only explanation.

Nick gawked after the retreating Judy for only an instant before reacting. Spinning around, he scooped up his pack and threw it over his shoulder. Turning to rush after the racing rabbit, the fox cursed as he saw the impressive distance she had already put between them.

"Futuo!"

Author's Note: Many thanks to Cimar of Turalis WildeHopps, who did the majority of the heavy lifting, editing wise, and Erinnyes, who pointed out the flaws story wise so I could fix them.

Honorable mentions for DrummerMax, who gave his stamp of approval, which is always very appreciated, and Starfang's Secrets, just for her continued support in general.

P.S. I already explained my long absence in my last chapter of Electric Eldritch Eidolon, so if you want to know whats up with my long absence, go read that.

Chapter Text

"Rabbit! Rabbit!" Nick barked as he chased Judy through the wood. A stray branch forced him to duck. "Stop! Gah!"

The distraction of the branch took Nick's eyes off the path. Foot catching a root, he face planted, accompanied by the crunch of thin snow and the metallic clatter of his pack crashing to the earth.

After a moment of stunned silence, Nick jerked back into action. Pushing himself up on his arms, he shook the snow from his face, spat out the grimy slush that had invaded his mouth, and, taking up his pack, stood again.

But, Judy was gone. With a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl, the fox started tracking the hasty rabbit through the brush.

Nick soon came upon the warren at Hopp's Hill. Well, what was left of it.

It was just a little hill, not even taller than the surrounding forest and only big enough for a dozen trees on its back. The only reason it was notable was the fact that it was the only such hill for several miles in every direction.

As Nick approached, the signs of an attack became more and more obvious. The earth surrounding the hill, once a well cared for series of farms tucked between the trees, was now churned and trampled, the valuable produce taken, the plants carelessly torn up and cast aside. Even the little stick fences had been knocked down and broken. The occasional scattering of thatch and more broken sticks marked a destroyed outbuilding or chicken coup. A thinning, but otherwise undisturbed, layer of snow covered everything. Nothing had moved through the area in weeks.

Well, except for one panicking rabbit. Nick followed Judy's tracks through the snow easily enough, making his way closer and closer to Hopp's Hill. Slowing from a jog to a walk, he turned his gaze about, taking in the ruined fields and destroyed huts with a somber, knowing eye

Tracing Judy's path, Nick soon made it to a clearing nestled against the hillside. Judy's tracks cut right through it, before disappearing into a hole carved into the mound. Reinforced with uncut stones and sturdy branches, wide enough for three rabbits standing shoulder to shoulder to enter, Nick knew right away it must be the main entrance, just as he knew there were a dozen or more smaller passages hidden about in case of an attack.

As Nick walked through the clearing, he noticed a patch of lumpy and misshapen snow. Pausing by this aberration, he knelt and observed it. Roughly a circle, it was as wide as Nick was tall.

Reaching out a paw, Nick pushed his fingers into the thin snow. When he pulled his paw back, he saw the ground beneath was blackened. Glancing at his paw, he found it was smeared with soot. The acrid stench of old, soured ash tingled his nose.

Seeing a particular lump in the snow, about the size of his palm, Nick reached out to grab it. Shaking off the crusted ice, he looked at his find. Scratched and blackened though it was, there was no mistaking the large, round sockets, the elongated jaw, or the buck teeth.

It was a rabbit skull.

Nick did not recoil in horror, nor did he toss the skull away in disgust. Stone-faced, he carefully placed it back and scooped some snow over it. After a few quick pats, the evidence was once again concealed beneath the icy white.

"Stultus turpis saevus lupi. Te dique omnes perdant!" Nick muttered to himself as he stood. Turning away from the remains of the cooking fire, he resumed tracking Judy.

It was a short walk to the hillside entrance. Tall for a rabbit, it was just a little too short for Nick to stand upright. Ducking down, he set his pack off to one side and made to go in.

Two steps later, Judy tried to shoot past him back outside. Nick's paw reflexively snapped out and caught the gray blur, but her momentum was so great that it yanked the unprepared fox backwards, sending the two right out of the hillside to crash in the snow.

Judy hardly seemed to notice the rude landing, immediately scrambling to her feet and launching back into her sprint.

Nick, showing the speed and power of a true predator, flipped from his back to all fours and sprang forward, all in the span of a heartbeat. As the fox crashed into the rabbit's back, his arms clamped around her middle, holding her tight to his chest as he twisted through the air to land on his side.

Eye rolling in panic, Judy thrashed in the fox's grip, clawing at his arms and screaming. "Let me go! Let! Me! Go!"

Nick shouted back from where he buried his face in her back, to protect his eyes. "I won't! Not until you calm down!"

"My family is gone! I have to find them!"

"How is running yourself to death supposed to find them?!"

Judy shook her head in denial, long ears whipping about the snow. "I am not-!"

"Yes, you are!" interrupted Nick. Moving one arm, he grasped her chest with his large paw, fingers spread across the entire front of her ribs. "Your breath rattles in your chest, and if your heart beats any harder, it will burst!"

Judy sucked in a breath to argue, but Nick used his grip on her chest to give her a jerk, interrupting her again. "You're stuck until you calm down. The more you struggle, the longer we'll be here."

Desperation overcoming sense, Judy shrieked and kicked, her heels connecting solidly with Nick's gut. The fox grunted and curled up so his legs would protect his stomach, but his grip remained firm.

Judy continued to thrash, but Nick wouldn't be loosed. When it became clear that she was making no progress, Judy planted her feet on Nick's knees and her paws on his arms and pushed, straining with every muscle in her body to escape his hold. After several long seconds, the desperate rabbit had used up the last of her strength, but she was still trapped in the cage of Nick's arms.

Judy flopped to the snow, twitching and gasping, and her eyes closed to ward off the spots dancing across her vision. The snow, once cold and terrible, felt heavenly against her fevered flesh, and she instinctively burrowed her face into it.

After nearly a minute of stillness, Nick cautiously lifted his head. Seeing Judy's closed eyes, he briefly wondered if she had fallen unconscious. That notion was wiped away when Judy turned her head to look up at him, prompting him to tighten his grip in case she tried to flee again.

They stayed like that for several long moments, staring at one another from only inches apart. Nick's gaze was stern, but also soft, saying without words that she was acting foolishly, but that he understood why: she was afraid for those she loved. The look, not to mention the closeness, would have flustered Judy in any other circumstance, but just then she was too tired to do anything but stare back.

Surprisingly, it was Judy that broke the silence.

"There's a tunnel," she croaked.

Nick didn't reply verbally, but his ears perked up interest, prompting Judy to continue.

"If there was an attack, we would escape through the tunnel. Toward the river. That way." Judy looked up, raising an arm to point a trembling paw in roughly the same direction she had been running before. "If I just saw the end, I'd know they were alive," she finished with a sigh as her outstretched paw fell limply to the snow.

Nick stretched his neck to stare in the direction Judy pointed. He stared for a bit, brow pinched as he considered. The river wasn't too far. Then he turned to stare through the trees at the sun, and considered a bit more. The night wasn't too close. If they hurried a bit, they could visit the river and be back at this burrow just after night fall. It was a risk, but one that would be worth it to soothe Judy's nerves. After all, Nick had no doubts that if he didn't take her, the headstrong doe would escape him to go anyway. This way, at least, he'd be there to protect her.

"Fine." So saying, Nick released his hold of Judy and stood up.

Judy was left lying on the ground, staring up at Nick in bewilderment. "'Fine'?"

Bending over, the fox scooped the rabbit up and placed her on her feet. "Yes, 'Fine.' Now, let's go."

Standing to his full height, Nick turned in the direction Judy had pointed out before, but to her surprise, he reached down and took her paw in his much larger one.

Judy had barely enough time to 'meep!' in surprise before Nick took off at a brisk march, pulling her along.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"I'm taking you to the river," he grunted without looking at her.

Surprised, Judy blinked up at the back of Nick's head. She really didn't think he would acquiesce to her request so easily. "O-oh. Why-? I mean, thank you! But, but," she sputtered a bit as her eyes dropped to where her paw disappeared into his. "Why are you holding my paw?"

Now Nick deigned to look back at her. His look was flat as he said, "You've run off before. I can't trust you won't try again."

Judy drew breath to argue the point, but deflated when Nick raised a knowing eyebrow. Blushing under the humiliation of being treated like an unruly kitten, but also unwilling to start a fuss while Nick was doing her yet another favor, she dropped her gaze to the ground and just let herself be pulled along.

The sun hovered just over the horizon at their backs. A hole opened in the earth a few steps away, undoubtedly the exit for the Hopp's escape tunnel. A fox and rabbit stood side-by-side on the bank of a mighty river, the surface a churning riot of broken ice and frozen slush.

"The river was frozen when it happened," Judy whispered, more to herself than Nick. "They would have crossed, because the wolves would have been too afraid to walk on the ice."

Silence fell over the two. They both knew that if they had been even just a couple days sooner, the ice might still have been thick enough for Judy to cross. Now, the ice was broken and the river had swollen with ice melt, making it deep, swift, and murderously cold. The knowledge that it would be weeks, maybe months, before it was passable again hung heavy in the air between them.

Finally, Nick turned away. Raising a paw, he touched Judy's shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's getting dark."

Ears hanging limp down her back, Judy didn't say anything. Crossing her arms, she hugged herself as her entire body trembled. She choked out a shaky huff. Biting her lip, she managed a very shallow nod.

Casting his gaze to the ground, Nick began walking up the shallow incline away from the river, back toward Hopps' Hill. He stopped at the top of the incline and turned to make sure Judy had followed after him. He sighed when he saw her still standing at the river's edge.

"Hey, rabbi-Mm." Nick cut himself off, knowing now was not the time for his usual attitude. "Judy," he began again, softer this time. "We have to go."

Judy just kept staring longingly across the impassable divide between her and her family.

"Judy."

Slowly, the shivering bunny turned away from the churning ice. Taking a single step up the slope, she faltered.

"Judy?"

Nick watched in rising concern as violet eyes fluttered, then outright alarm as his ward collapsed into the snow.

"Judy!"

Footnote: "Stultus turpis saevus lupi. Te dique omnes perdant" is latin for "Stupid, ugly, cruel wolves. Gods damn them!" Before anyone uses google translate to correct me, I spent the better part of a day researching that one phrase, so I'm going to have to see some credentials before I'll let you tell me I'm wrong.

AN: Yo, it's been awhile. No excuses, I was just slacking off. Don't worry, though. I'll be updating more often from now on.

These are my excellent Beta readers! WanderingPaw & BCRE8TVE

An extra, EXTRA big special thanks to she_dies_at_the_end (Classyrogue on Discord), whose review was so amazing that it changed the entire course of this story for the better.

Chapter Text

As Judy lay on the ice-laden shore, light and sound and thought came and went in a jumbled blur through her head. Darkness began to descend, and the world shifted as she was lifted into the air. Warm orange invaded her vision. Her last thought was to wonder if it was the light of day's end, or perhaps fur?

Misery gripped her head as she awoke, hot and pounding. It was dark, for which she was grateful. Then the familiar scent of her warren drifted into her nose, and she wondered if the last few weeks were just a fever dream.

She heard something shift nearby, and, still in a daze, called out for a mammal that couldn't possibly be there.

"Mama?"

"I'm afraid not." Nick's masculine voice broke her momentary illusion. He sat next to her and smoothed his thumb across her forehead. "I'm glad you're awake, foolish rabbit. And your fever is down. Good."

She seized his paw by the wrist. He stared, flummoxed, as she turned her face into his palm and breathed deeply the scent therin.

Judy turned to him and asked, "Nick, why have you been digging?"

Nick pulled his paw out of her grip and turned away.

"I was widening the tunnels."

Judy leaned up, seized the fur of his shoulder. She tugged hard enough to really hurt. Still, Nick wouldn't turn to face her.

"Don't lie! I know fresh soil!"

"Rabbit, you need to calm down."

"Tell me why you've been digging!"

"I told you."

"You were burying them!"

"Stop."

"How many!? How many graves!?"

"Stop!" The fox turned and grabbed her up, trapping her in his arms.

"Tell me! Tell me!" She punched and scratched and shouted, but he remained stubbornly silent. Finally, she collapsed into his embrace, too exhausted to continue.

As she sobbed into his warm fur, he smoothed a comforting paw down her back, and he whispered into her ear.

"Knowing won't help."

They had no choice but to stay at Hopp's Hill until Judy gathered her strength. During that time, the usually chatty rabbit was entirely silent. Nick tended to her without complaint, patiently allowing her to work through her pain in her own time.

Two days later, they were sharing their evening meal, made from the provisions Nick brought in his pack, since everything remotely edible had been ransacked from the stores, either by the attacking wolves, or opportunistic neighbors. They sat together in what passed as the Hill's dining hall, which was really a wide space just inside the main entrance. With nothing but dirt floors, walls, and ceiling, it wasn't very impressive, but it kept the chill wind out, and a little fire pit in the center was perfect for cooking and keeping warm.

"It's getting warmer. When do you think the ground will thaw? Hm! That soon? I'm not sure about that."

As he had during every meal they'd shared since arriving at Hopp's Hill, Nick was chatting between bites while Judy stared stoically into the fire. He would ask her inane questions, nod sagely along to an answer she didn't provide, then continue on as though she had answered. At first, it upset Judy. Here was this fox, smiling and chuckling at his own jokes, carrying on like nothing was wrong, like her entire world hadn't just collapsed in on itself. She would have yelled at him to shut his mouth, if she could have summoned the spirit.

"Well, I guess a farmer's daughter would know more about dirt than I. As for me, well, these paws are too valuable for tilling soil. At least, I used to think so."

As time went on, her opinion gradually changed. All her life, Judy had known the Hill to be filled with the voices of family. Aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and especially her parents, all playing, shouting, laughing, making a constant thrum of background noise that was as familiar as breathing. Now, there was only unbearable, frigid silence. Her home had become a tomb, and Judy felt as though she'd been buried alive.

"But, you know, I've been rethinking that. I wanted to ask your advice on making my own plot."

And now, Nick's warm voice was the only thing that brought relief, that broke the terrible quiet that weighed so heavily on her. Judy honestly didn't know what she would have done if he weren't there.

"Ah, you're right. Living by myself, I wouldn't be able to protect my produce, and it would all be stolen right off the vine. Curses! My plans foiled again!"

Actually, upon further reflection, Judy did know. She'd have done nothing, because she'd be dead. Nick had saved her life. For the first time, she contemplated whether or not that was a good thing.

"Oh, well. I'd make a terrible farmer, anyway. I just don't have the patience for it."

Why had he saved her life? That's right, he expected a payment from her clan. A simple trade, material goods for services rendered. But, now…?

"I see you emptied your bowl. I'm glad to see your hunger returned. It's a sign of good health!" And he smiled to show his pleasure.

Their meal was over. Nick went to clean up but was surprised when Judy seized his wrist as he gathered the utensils. For the first time in two days, she looked him right in the eye and spoke.

"Nick, why are you still here?"

The fox stared at her, lips pressed together in a thin line as he considered his answer.

"I suppose…" he started, slowly. "If I left you alone, you'd die."

"What does that matter?" Judy pressed.

Nick went quiet, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Finally, he stated, "You can't repay me if you're dead."

"My clan is scattered. Our stores are sacked. I have no way to repay you."

"Then you'll live with me until you can," Nick said flippantly, like it was obvious.

Judy recoiled, the paw on Nick's wrist flying off to clutch at her chest. Then her eyes lowered morosely to the ground. To Nick's alarm, tears began to gather in her violet eyes.

"I'm a thrall?" she stated faintly, more to herself than to him.

"No!" Nick barked, seizing her slim shoulders with his big paws. Startled, Judy's gaze jumped up to his. His intense green eyes looked deeply into hers, flickering with reflected firelight. "You are not a thrall!"

Judy had never seen this side of the usually reserved fox, never seen him this…passionate. She stared up at Nick, eyes wide and lips parted in awe. The fox released her and sank back down, ears drooping and an awkward smile on his lips, as though he were embarrassed by his outburst.

"You're just going to be a free mammal that happens to live with me," Nick continued at a lower volume, staring into the cooking fire rather than looking at her. "And, someday, you'll get your chance to repay me. Consider it a long-term investment on my part."

He saved her life, first from the wolves, then the infection in her side. And what did he ask for his reward? A mere bolt of cloth. And now, even knowing he would receive no reward, he opened his home to her.

This strange fox heaped kindness after kindness upon her, then pretended at indifference, like it was totally normal, even though any other predator would have made a meal of her at the first opportunity. Judy stared at his fire-lit profile, eyes sparkling with wonder.

Silence fell over them, different from the silence of the last two days. Strange and, yet, comfortable. Warmer. It was then Judy realized that, though she had lost everything, maybe she had gained something in return. Something worth holding on to.

A tide of emotion welled up in Judy's chest. Bowing her head, she rested her brow on Nick's arm and began to weep. The fox politely pretended not to notice, and, if his tail curled about the rabbit's waist and across her lap, well, that was merely coincidence.

"You rabbits. So emotional," he muttered to himself, the smallest of smiles curling his lip.

End Chapter