A Bitter Pill to Swallow

The fog rolls thickly through the ranks of bare trees while high above the clouds block out the sunrise. Timmy hops along slowly while he wraps a scarf around his neck. A twig snaps close by, and Timmy freezes to listen. Gerard, however, pauses only to cuff Timmy again.
"Keep moving," Gerard growls.
Unable to stop his ears flattening briefly against the back of his head, Timmy glares for a moment before starting forward again. His nose works constantly and his ears twitch back and forth. Looking from the corner of his eye, Timmy watches Gerard for signs of tension.

"You said you needed to explain things," Timmy piped up.
"A little," said Gerard evenly. "This isn't a simple situation we find ourselves in."
Timmy waits, his ears flicking forward then back to listen to Gerard. Gerard walked pensively for a minute before he finally spoke.
"The survivors of the 10th came in last night. Three made it," Gerard says. “The rest were massacred before they could defend themselves.”
Gerard looks at Timmy full in the face; they grey eyes burrow into him shrewdly.
“Many of them were killed in their sleep; the survivors were sentries,” he adds.
“How…m-many?” Timmy struggled to contain the quiver in his voice.
“I reckon that our village will not even be a suitable breakfast for the bloody beasts,” Gerard says harshly.
"Is there hope?" Timmy asks.
"Ha!" Gerard barks. "About our only hope is to draw them off the center of the village," he says, "and that is a slim hope at best."

For a long time Timmy walks without another word. The fog sinks to earth and a light drizzle begins. Timmy instinctively shields his head with his bag, while Gerard droops his ears over his face. The forest thickens; soon there is nothing to do but dash under the bushes and overgrowth on all fours. The sharp thorns tear at the scarf that Timmy has around his neck until he leaves it hung up in the nettles. Gerard, far from patient at the delay, merely continues on when Timmy lags behind, or cuffs him over the head if Timmy happens to be within reach.

As the overgrowth finally gives way and Timmy has brushed the thorns from his jacket, his mind turns to new questions.
“Sir, what am I going to be doing to help,” Timmy asks. “Am I going to be given a rifle?”
“Ha,” Gerard snorts derisively. “As it happens, I haven’t decided what you will do yet.”
The tips of Timmy’s ears fall morosely to match the disappointed look he bears. Before he can pull out another question, Gerard stops and listens.
“We are close,” he says. “Stay close. We will find a use for you when we get with the LRC chaps.”
“Yes sir,” Timmy says quietly.

Gerard starts off again with Timmy close behind. The going is slow and quiet as Gerard lifts his ears high to listen hard around them. As Timmy follows, Gerard hunts out the hard ground to walk over before abruptly darts into a stream. With hardly a splash made, he lifts his paws to his face and makes a strange sound; to Timmy, it sounds like some sort of cackling bird.
Not far away a similar noise greets them. Satisfied, Gerard turns to Timmy.
“We follow the stream now,” Gerard says quietly.
Timmy blanches and balks.
“What?!” Timmy says sharply. “It’s too late in the season to wade in streams! We’ll catch a terrible-“ But the rest is cut off as Gerard hops out and cuffs Timmy headfirst into the icy stream.
A shrill squeal bursts from Timmy as he plunges into the water. As he scrabbles to get his footing, Gerard seizes his ears with one paw and clamps the other over his mouth.
“You do that again,” Gerard hisses furiously “and I’ll snap your neck like a dead twig.”
Gerard lifts Timmy to his feet by the ears. Timmy shuts his eyes against the pain and the tears. Then Gerard releases him and pushes Timmy ahead of him.
“Follow the stream,” Gerard growls. “No splashing, we are in a war zone.”

Timmy rubs his ears slowly before another growl from Gerard sends him off down the ice cold stream. His coat is soaked through and through; the crisp air sends the shivers trembling through him. Timmy quickly realizes that as hard as he tries, he is making plenty of splashing; the sound of Gerard grinding his teeth behind him give testament to his spectacular failure at silence. As the shivering reaches the level of quaking and the first sneeze tingling his nose, he hears the strange bird sound again from the bushes off to his right. Immediately, Gerard answers the call with a sharp bark. In the process Timmy startles and jumps clear out of the water and to the far back.

From the bushes emerges a squat looking rabbit. On his head is drab colored steel helmet with two holes cut for his ears. He wears a camouflage jacket that clashes terribly with his sand colored fur. His nose twitches several times and his face screws up for a moment.
“Ummm….password?” the rabbit calls. Then Gerard strides up the bank, causing the smaller rabbit to flinch.
“Gee, sar, I di’nt see ya thar,” the rabbits says quickly.
Before Gerard can reply, a second rabbit emerges from the bushes. His fur is grey and is streaked with mud; the camouflage is worn more impressively in Timmy’s opinion. In his paws is an automatic rifle at the ready. His ears are flat against his head as he glares at his companion.
“Imbecile,” The grey rabbit barks at his comrade “You never reveal yourself until you receive the password!”
With a swift movement, the grey one cuffs the sandy rabbit over the head, sending him face first into the dirt.

“Gerard, glad to see you made it back,” the grey rabbit says.
“I would have been back sooner,” Gerard replies evenly. “The youngster needed some motivation. What is the situation, Virgil?”
“Most of the teams are in place, as you suggested,” Virgil replies.
“Good,” Gerard says. “What about the supplies?”
“Problematic, but manageable,” Virgil answers. “Who is the youngster, anyways?”
“You don’t know him, but his family came from Silvertide,” Gerard replies. Virgil’s ears twitch and his eyes narrow thoughtfully.
“Timmy, get up here,” Gerard growls.

As Timmy struggles out of the water, Virgil looks down with mild interest before he turns back to Gerard.
“How did you pick him up?” Virgil turns his head back to watch Timmy, shivering miserably and looking down at the stunned rabbit groaning between them.
“Bridger dropped his name on me, and the lad seemed keen to come,” Gerard answers softly.
“That nuisance? I’d rather be shot of him,” Virgil says gruffly.
“Every set of ears counts,” Gerard says soothingly.
“You sound like the captain,” Virgil shoots back. His ears flick back flat and his eyes are stony.

Gerard chuckles and his ears twitch at the tips. Virgil shakes his head in his annoyance and then addresses the sandy rabbit at their feet.
“Hawser, get off your ears before I give you something to really groan at,” Virgil snaps furiously. Then he turns back to Gerard.
“Sorry, sir, I haven’t quite gotten this lump up to par yet,” Virgil apologizes.
“No need Sergeant,” Gerard replies. “We all have our lumps to mould.”
Timmy starts to retort when Gerard turns on him.
“Go with Sergeant Virgil,” Gerard growls. “He will take you to the base camp”

As Timmy hops forward to follow, Gerard reaches out and stops him.
“Take that coat off. All it will do for you now is kill you,” Gerard says sharply. Then he turns his attention on Hawser.
“But-“ Timmy starts.
“NOW,” Gerard growls loudly as he bares his teeth.
“Come on Kit,” Virgil says loudly. “The old hare has some teaching to do.”
Giving a parting glare to Hawser, Virgil turns and plunges into the bushes. Timmy works his coat off, then he hops along to follow. In moments he catches up with Virgil just as the raspy growl of Gerard climbs to a roar.
“So, what is your proper name, Kit?” Virgil asks mid hop.
“It’s Timothy, and please don’t call me-“
“Gerard says you came from Silvertide,” Virgil cuts in. He weaved into a stand of tightly grown trees. “That true, Kit?”
“Yes, but I do have a name you-“
“When did you leave?” Virgil asks as he vaults a small bush.
“Two months,” Timmy replied simply as he scrambles under.

Virgil merely blinks and continues without further question. His ears flip up and down while his nose twitches. Now and again he stops to thump his hind feet on the ground, then listening for an answer. Utterly exhausted and shivering, Timmy follows behind. Before long Virgil stops and thumps his hind feet again when a new voice answers from a twist of tree roots sticking out of a shallow rise off to their right.

“Password,” the voice calls quietly.
“Cuniculus Periculum,” Virgil answers with a significant look to Timmy. Figuring that he meant him to memorize it, Timmy allows his ears to flop forward it early defeat.
“You may pass,” the voice replies.
“Come on Kit,” Virgil says as he hops over the roots. Timmy follows slowly. Once he clears the roots and scrambles up the hill, he finds himself in a sheltered clearing surrounded by closely grown trees. Packed in the clearing is a small camp of about a dozen tents. Milling about the clearing are several older rabbits gathered around a small fire.

Timmy hops towards the fire with daydreams of warm fur and honey toast until Virgil checks his advance.
“Not yet,” Virgil says. “I have to take you to the Major first.”
Timmy hangs his head and pouts, earning a good cuff across the head from Virgil.
“Buck up Kit,” he says with amusement, then hops off to a larger tent as the far end of the clearing. With a deep sigh and a fair helping of resentment, Timmy follows.

Virgil hops to the tent opening and holds.
“Major?” he calls quietly.
“Virgil,” replies a deep rumble of a voice. “Come in please.”
Virgil walks into the tent, with a reluctant Timmy following. Inside the tent, a single oil lantern burns low in the imposing twilight of the tent. The space is very sparsely furnished, with a large outcropping of rock acting as the centerpiece table. A cot is set up towards the back along with a trunk and some other battered looking items. Stretched over the rock is a large, yellowing map. Leaning over the map is a very serious looking rabbit with mottled patchy grey and black fur and a damaged left ear. A scar traces up along his neck and face to just below a twitching slate grey eye. He straightens and hobbles around to join them.

“All is well at the outposts?” the Major asks while his ears flop on either side of his face.
“Well enough. Hawser is getting an education from Gerard,” Virgil replies dryly.
“Well…I cannot say I am surprised,” the Major says. He turns and looks to Timmy. “Who is this?”
“His name is Timmy, sir,” Virgil answers. “Gerard picked him up this morning from the village.”
“Oh? Well then…..young buck, how goes it?” the Major asks.
“Um..Good,” Timmy replies.
Virgil cuffs him sharply across the head.
“When answering an officer, you finish with a SIR,” Virgil growls.
“Ow! Sorry sir,” Timmy says.
“Hmmm….well no matter,” the Major replies. He turns to Virgil “Has he been assigned yet?”
“No sir,” Virgil replies.
“Hmmmm….well then we best send him to get equipped,” the Major says in a sleepy voice.

The Major lifts the map and pulls out a sheet of paper. He takes out a well worn pencil and scribbles for a moment, then hands the paper across to Virgil.
Virgil takes the paper and quickly reads it before turning to Timmy. He hands him the paper.
“Your orders,” Virgil says.
Timmy takes the sheet with a quizzical look on his face. He looks down and reads:
‘Timmy Rabbit, accepted into service in His Majesty’s Royal Army on the date below. Assigned rank of private and given the duty of Gunner’s Assistant under Captain Clover Rabbit. May he serve well in the King’s need. Major Willowcreek, commanding.’
If anything, Timmy looks up even more confused than before.
“You are assigned to Captain Clover. He will equip you and assign you to your position,” Virgil answers the unsaid question.
“Yessir,” Timmy replies.
“His tent is next to the large oak over that way,” Virgil continues, pointing vaguely at the canvass of the tent. “If you get lost, a soldier will direct you. Now get going,” he finishes.
“Yessir,” Timmy says quickly. He turns and hops out.

____________________________________________________________________

The night crept in around the small campfire. Gathered around were a dozen rabbits seeking warmth. The veterans stretched out and told stories of old campaigns and ancient victories. The draftees sat gathered nervously in a small group. Their ears were tucked into their helmets (unlike the veterans, who long ago cut slits in their helmets for their ears). They listened to the stories, half terrified and half enthralled at the old war hares gathered. Noses twitched, eyes squinted, forepaws shook gently. Each of the draftees wondered how they managed to fall into this terrible war.

With them and yet apart was Timmy. His helmet was far too big for his head; the camouflage gear looked ridiculous on his small frame. Despite this, he was calm and lacking the obvious signs of fear that his fellow draftees were displaying. On his helmet was a single brown carrot shape embedded into the hard metal surface. He sits quietly on the dirt ground and stares into the flames. Across the way sits Captain Clover on a stump, relaxed and chatting with the other veterans. The light from the fire played oddly over his thick, reddish brown fur.
It makes him look bloody, Timmy thought with a shudder.

Away from the fire, Timmy could see Virgil writing on a piece of paper. His ears are drooped on either side of his face as he writes intently. The light seems to glitter over his hard brown eyes. His paw flicks over the paper slowly and methodically. His head lifts and stares back at Timmy, who quickly turns his head back to the fire. 

Not far off Timmy heads to soft padding of a rabbit walking to the fire. He turns his head and sees Gerard join the circle, close to where Captain Clover sat. He carried a few chunks of old wood which he tosses into the fire before settling down on the dirt. The light makes his brown fur look black.

Captain Clover stirs at his arrival. He looks over to Gerard.
“Everyone here?” the Captain asks.
“Everyone is accounted for, Captain,” Gerard replies evenly.
“Good,” the Captain says. He stands up slowly while the stiff muscles and joints pop audibly.
“Your attention, Please,” the Captain says. The heads of the recruits turn as one, like a single fearful creature. The veterans merely lay back to listen.
“Gentlemen, we are gathered here tonight to do our part to protect our kingdom,” the Captain says solemnly.

“Many of you have seen combat before,” the Captain says (several of the veterans yawn pointedly) “But some of you will be fighting for the first time,” he finishes.
He looks to the recruits and doesn’t react when they shiver in almost complete unison. His eyes twitch over to Timmy, who merely stares back without reaction.
“You young bucks,” the Captain addresses the recruits. “I know that you are afraid of what tomorrow will bring.”
“I know that you are afraid of what will happen when battle is joined. That you will not be able to stand up to what you might see tomorrow. Or worse, what you might be forced to do to.”
“I don’t want you to worry about it too much,” he said to them as he focused on their faces, one at a time. “Remember tomorrow, when you are out there fighting, why you came here. Remember those who you are protecting; remember the way of life that you are trying to save.”

“Also remember your duty as soldiers, to help those who cannot help themselves,” he said as he squared his shoulders and leaned forward.
“Remember your duty, To Protect the Innocent, To Defend the land you stand on, To Stand with your comrades in Arms, even to the Last!”
“Listen to the experienced rabbits in your attack groups,” he continued. “What they know may save your life.”
“Remember, finally, that in the struggle ahead, there can be no retreat. If we fail, then everything we fight to protect will fall. Remember that our enemy is hideous, that they will butcher you where you stand without a second of hesitation. Remember those before us who have already fallen; Clover Hill, Twilit Copse, Silvertide, and the countless warren villages around them,” he growled while his ears pressed back against his head.

Timmy looked up and stared slowly at the face of his captain. Off to the side, Gerard cleared his throat softly, snapping the Captain out of his reverie. Captain Clover looked down and saw the intensity of Timmy’s stare. Without flinching, he nodded and hesitated for a moment.
“Remember who we are trying to protect, and remember who we have already lost. In this hour before us, our maker has made us into both an instrument of salvation and of revenge. Be strong and give those animals a taste of that justice.”

Slowly the Captain sank back to his seat. On cue, Gerard stood and took over.
“Assemble into your squads and prepare to move to your positions,” he barked sharply. As the gathered rabbitry stood in a rush of noise, Gerard walked over to the Captain and whispered for a moment. Timmy watched the Captain absorb the words without a trace of emotion. His head jerked in a nod, then he reached into his pocket for a flask.

“Private Timmy,” Gerard barked.
“Yes sir,” Timmy replied as he stood up.
“Come with me,” Gerard said. He turned and left the warm circle of light. Timmy hopped over a log and followed.

They walked in the darkness for a short time without any word. Along the way, Timmy heard rather than saw the positions that they passed, already manned for the battle. Now and then Gerard spoke the password to the sentry. Then as they entered a small, moonlit meadow, Gerard turned and faced him.
“Before anything else is said,” Gerard said coldly “It is my duty to tell you that your parents were most likely killed at the sack of Silvertide, which occurred 2 weeks ago.”
Timmy stared for a long time at Gerard without a word. His hands trembled slightly as his eyes burrowed into Gerard’s.
“You were not informed of this,” Gerard continued “because no news has been allowed to move back from the line. You must understand that in these difficult times, this sort of news would destroy morale among the communities.”
“You knew this when you came to get me?” Timmy glares and his ears flatten against his head.
“Yes,” Gerard replied coldly.
“Why didn’t you tell me on the way,” Timmy shot back.
“You didn’t need to know,” Gerard replies.
“I didn’t need to know that my own parents were-“
“No,” Gerard says “You didn’t. You were needed to help save this village….or at least die attempting to save it.”
A long time passes while Timmy glares at Gerard. His claws were itching for him to scratch and claw at the taller rabbit. His paws shook violently now and his breath came hard. Gerard stood waiting, then turned away.
“Now, you will follow me. I will take you to your position,” Gerard says. “You need to get ready for tomorrow.”

Gerard hops forward into the underbrush, leaving Timmy standing like a statue behind. Slowly his legs buckle and Timmy sinks to the ground with a sob of despair. His ears flop over his face as the sobs shake his body again and again. His paws scratched into the soil as he clung onto something, anything.
“Follow,” Gerard’s voice floated back from the forest ahead.

Slowly, Timmy staggers to his feet, the sobs not ceasing. He gasps for air and his paws grab his ears to pull them in his agony.
Like lightning, Gerard sprang back into the clearing. Fury moved him as he cuffed Timmy fiercely across the head and sprawled him on the ground.
“You will follow orders from a superior officer,” Gerard roared. He crouched over Timmy, his claws extended.
Timmy staggered to his feet and turned to face Gerard.
“I will never follow your orders,” Timmy snarled.
“Then you will fight me and be punished for insubordination,” Gerard shot back. “You have a duty, now stop crying like a kitten and grow up!”

Without waiting for an answer, Gerard turned and sprang back into the forest again. Timmy followed instinctively. He rushed as fast as his legs could carry him as he tried to catch Gerard. A red haze covered everything he was seeing as he ran. He chased after Gerard with the snarl still on his face. Gerard ran, springing from spot to spot, always out of reach. With a burst of speed, Gerard opened some room between them. They ran for a long time, then Gerard slowed and stopped abruptly. Timmy sprang down upon him, his claws extended and his teeth showing. Sidestepping, Gerard dodged the attack and struck Timmy again for good measure.

“Your post is on the other side of those bushes,” Gerard says. “Get in position. Your gear is already there.”
As Timmy sprang up again to renew his attack, Gerard stood to his full height and glared down at him.
“Don’t bother, I’ll only kill you if you continue to struggle. Get into those bushes.”
With that, Gerard turned and melted into the shadows.
“Do your duty. I daresay I will never see you alive again,” Gerard said from the blackness. Then the noise of his movements faded away. Timmy knew that he was alone. The haze left his eyes, and with a pain greater than any he had ever or would ever feel again in his life, he turns and walks into the bushes.