TFH

The sun is high in the sky and we're flying down through the clouds. Our path takes us through a sky-light in the monastery roof into a room filled with books, papers and the odd parchment or papyrus scroll. There are desks here, most with books in the process of being copied and each of those in stages of half-illumination. Not at this particular moment, however, as the room is empty of monks.

We pass down the stairs to the next level, this is just room after room filled with books and papers - a huge library of knowledge. Further down we reach ground level and huge vaulted chambers and offices, then we go underground. Strangely for us we feel that we've only now just reached the bulk of the building; but then our monks are solely moles, so: down down deeper and down we go.

We don't meet anyone until we reach a large chamber, from outside we can hear a rhythmic chanting and so, in we go.

In the chamber appears to be the majority of the monks, lined up in rows, facing the Abbot who is standing at the front. In lines, in time the monks are singing and clapping:

"I am a mole and I live in a hole,"

Clap-clap, clap-clap.

"I am a mole and I live in a hole."

Clap-clap, clap-clap.

The abbot raises his forelegs high.

"I am a mole and I live in a hole."

The abbot slices his hands down in the universal "Stop and be silent" motion.

As one the moles stop their chanting and dancing. Well, when I say "as one" I mean "everyone apart from one mole"...

One young mole, near the back of the hall has his eyes closed and is carried away with the tune. He continues:

Clap-clap, clap-clap.

"I am a mole..." He realises that he's the only one still singing and does the only thing that he can think of - he elbows the monk next to him and whispers "shut up!" loudly. His reflexes are faster than the monks' around him, so the ones who turn their heads see a confused looking mole being chastised by his little neighbour.

At the front, the Abbot has seen all and made a mental note; he clears his throat.

"This afternoon I intend to read from the third prophecies of Thornton."

=

---*---

=

The monastery is a working monastery; although not the brewing of the voles nor the farming of the conies; this monastery holds the greatest, catalogued, collection of religious, arcane and esoteric writings in the entire animal kingdom. It is every monk's ongoing duty to take un-catalogued tomes; read them and categorise them and pass them onto the prioritised copying chamber. Two weeks ago a French rodent arrived bearing a particular scroll which the Abbot decided to take to his own task.

Thornton was a coney; not a very stable or reliable person - a rabbit prone to fits and speaking in tongues. His ravings were written down by the monks who were close to him. The first collection, written when he was in his native Leeds became known as Thornton's Local. They have been examined by the best minds in the country and his ravings, once translated, have been found to be stunningly accurate; mostly in hindsight.

Thornton escaped the monks and was finally caught up with again in London. Discovered to be caged and fed by a town family whose small child took great delight in feeding him and listening and trying to understand the strange noises he spoke. Being a child, although human, she was perfectly happy to let the other animals come to listen to her rabbit as well. Once news of his re-discovery reached those who know, four monks were sent, two from our monastery, to record his ravings.

These second set of prophecies were known as Thornton's Capital. Less coherent, but just as accurate, albeit, again, in hindsight.

The family left London and Thornton was thought lost to the world, his ravings lost to the monks who so cherished his words. Until two weeks ago.

It appears that the family had moved to France. Thornton was left unattended as the child got used to life in a new country and, in one of his raves, Thornton escaped his cage into the wild. The story could have ended there, except he was found by the Head Weasel of a small religious retreat in Normandy and his prophetic nature was discovered immediately as he began to chant in the languages of ancient Gaul. The Weasels wrote down every word and did their best to translate it into modern French. This is the document that the abbot was sent and now, in front of him, on the pulpit, are his notes of the translation into English.

=

---*---

=

The abbot speaks, as he does his finger traces the words on his papers:

"I read from Thornton's Continental:"

"There shall be a black rain. There shall be a black reign."

"Coniedom will fall first to the black."

"And the people shall weep; the people shall not shed a tear."

"And the dark cloud will fain grow from its humbled beginnings."

"All shall tremble and fear the dark, in case all fear should be stripped from their being."

"From the west will come penitence and vengeance."

"From the south will come the mother of all angers."

"From the west will come the apprentice."

"The raggedy man holds the knowledge and the key will be in his paws."

"His paws do not grasp the key."

"No one will be afraid of the dark; everyone will be afraid of the dark."

"The white sun and the brothers will contest."

"Brother shall weep for brother."

"Son shall take arms against father."

"Before the end, all will fall to the dark."

"Clarity shall come to two; before they fall into confusion forever."

"The blade of the son shall taste the blood of the brother."

He bows his head; the moles look at him, confused.

"The words seem to speak of the black rabbit that holds the warren in thrall." His voice speaks low, "I believe that the 'Brothers' mentioned are ourselves. I believe that we must intervene and offer aid to the free conies." He pauses for a second before going on, "I fear the line that says that we will all fall to the dark; I gain hope that it says 'Before the end' rather than 'At the end'.

"However; these lines have been twice translated. So all could be wrong."

He stands up straight.

"It is now considered a standing order that all possible aid shall be given to the free conies in their plight." He looks around the room, making sure his monks are listening.

"Return to your work." He says, then his mental note kicks in, "Except 'Jive' - I wish to have a few words with him about his enthusiasm."

He stands back and the monks file out past him. A few of the monks are wearing rather non-standard headgear but he decides against saying anything, he will keep today's chastisement for young monks who can't stop singing.

He sighs a sigh he's sighed before "Jive..."

---*---

Cola traipsed over the green fields, her current goal clear in front of her. By her side trotted Malcolm, he'd been rather subdued of late. A foot or so in front, Mike the mouse paced attentively.

A mole we've met before, Laurence, watched them come from a hiding place, his ninja training only wavered when he saw there was only three.

Laurence stood up, previously hidden from view behind a blade of grass or two. Mike jumped out of his skin - nobody was supposed to be able to hide from him. Something was different about Laurence..

"Why the tin-foil-hat?" Cola asked.

"Valuable protection against the evil mind controlling rays of the black coney." The monk said in all earnest.

"Al's here already I take it?" She asked.

"How did you know?" Laurence said, "Been here nearly a week, and a good thing it was too."

"Let's hear all about it..." Cola said, taking the monk by the foreleg, ready to hold a smile in at the oncoming tale of entrepreneurial excellence.

---*---

Laurence showed the two rabbits and mouse into a small room, packed with people. Cola recognised the majority of the room, but not the white rabbit who stood to attention behind the table, long-sword point-down in front of him; his head resting on the pommel.

Phump bound up to her "Cola!" He flung his arms around her - much to her surprise and squeezed; quite hard - he'd grown muscles since she'd seen him last. "Where've you been?" He asked then was off : "I've been all over the place with Madison, that's him over there being all Elricky, we went to lots of towns to look for you and went into a spaceship and blew it up well not really blown up and rabbit broke my ankle and.." his stream of words failed, "Where's Cadam."

They were still hugging, Coal squeezed back as a tear dropped from her eye.

She stepped back from Phump and shook her head, "Not now." Behind Phump was a young doe who tugged on his arm.

"Hello?" Cola said to her. She curtsied,

"Hello Ma'am." She said, and throwing a disapproving look at the young buck, "If Phump has introduced me properly as he was supposed to..."

Phump straightened up, "Cola, this is Maisie." He smiled, "My Intended."

Cola's eyes widened. Phump had a girlfriend. The world had definitely turned into a strange place in the past few weeks.

"Pleased to meet you," she said taking Maisie's paw, "We should have a long chat when all this is over." She said, beaming.

There's always something bright in all the gloom, she thought. Even thrown out of their warren, life still went on. He thoughts bounced to her two young boys she'd left in Orla's care.

Then she came back to the present with a start.

"Right," she said striding into the centre of the room, "We need to have a plan." She stared at the white rabbit, "I don't know you."

"Don't you?" he said cryptically.

"You can trust him! He's my friend!" Phump jumped in, worried that his new mentor and his old friend would start off at loggerheads.

Cola looked round to her not-so-round-as-he-used-to-be friend and took in the changes in the young buck; they all seemed for the better. She looked back to the white rabbit, thought for a second then offered a paw; "You're Madison, I'm Cola." He leant his sword against the wall and took her paw in his. "Its my warren we're trying," she stopped, then, with feeling finished, "Going to get back."

They shook, a single business-like shake and he reached behind himself for a roll of paper and stepped towards the table that had been set up in the middle of the room.

"Here." he said, rolling the paper out.

"What a picture!" Phump exclaimed.

"What a photograph." Madison injected. "Before I terminated TB I send a couple of scout-sects up and took a printout of the warren and the area around it."

Cola turned around, she felt sure that Malcolm should have said something at that point, but he seemed to be skulking in a far corner of the room. She turned back to the table.

Spread out in front of her was a full colour aerial photograph of the warren, perfect in every detail, the size enough to see dots that could only be individual rabbits.

The mashed-potato fields looked as though they were being worked quite heavily; the cheesie-wotsit grove has a similar, large number of working dots within it. There was the South entrance, the West entrance. She could see the skylight and chimney that led to the coffee shop. The North entrance.

"What's that?" She said, pointing at a strange shaped dot.

"That's the million-carrot question." Madison said, "If it's what I think it is - then I have a few other items I brought from the ship that could be of use."

"Miss Cola," it was Al, sales-bunny deluxe, "I also think you need to hear about our allies in the rest of the animal kingdom."

They finally broke in time for an evening meal - the monastery was pulling out all stops to make their stay a pleasant one so it would seem.

"I want to reconnoitre the area and check that my supposition about that 'dot' on the map is correct." Madison said to her as they left the war-room for the monks' dining hall. "I'll take Phump and we'll be back in two or three days."

"Good idea," Cola said, "but Phump can stay here and spend some time with Maisie."

"I'd rather not go alone; his troops go round in pairs and if they surprise me it won't matter how fast I am with a blade."

"I wasn't going to send you alone." Cola said, and he heard steel in her voice, "I'll be coming with you. It's my warren."