Seasons were changing again, and in her heart of hearts the old Chief let go of the last shred of hope she had been holding onto for the warren's young they'd left behind.

Finding a new warren wasn't supposed to take this long, but Frith was being unkind. Oh, the soil had certainly been dry enough to dig in many places, but there was no water. Not much flay. Too many elil. Here was too close to humans, there was too dangerous. And on it went. Fritheer gave way to Hombeer and what should have been a season of plenty simply wasn't. Food was dangerously scarce as the grass crackled underpaw. When they did find a place of plenty they had to fight for it, or run from elil too powerful to overcome.

So when the first cold winds started to blow as they took shelter in the nearby forest, their numbers were easily half of what they'd been starting out. A few had deserted or turned back for the young, but most had dropped dead from starvation, dehydration and of course predation.

So no, Frith hadn't been kind at all, and the Chief saw little reason to hope. Even if they'd managed to care for themselves in all this time, they would have surely perished if they stayed at the old warren where man had come to build their black, solid rivers for their hrududil.

The old Rah banished the thought, continuing on sore paws as she looked around on alert.

Some days later found frost was beginning to form on the ground each morning; the edges of leaves gathering white crystals which they lapped readily as a source of water. Eleer was nearly here, and soon snow would cover the ground.

It was on such a morning when a shout was sounded, one of the runners dashing about with energy no one had felt or seen in some time.

"Ethilerah! Rah! Water! Thayrte! Just ahead! I am sure of it!"

The buck scattered the dead leaves and loam as he charged through the band of rabbits in the underbrush, sending several scattering in alarm. One of the Owsla does intercepted him and calmed him down while the Chief didn't know whether to be angry at him for causing such a ruckus or to feel relief at last. She settled for quiet dignity and simply nodded at the tarli, suggesting he lead them to his find.

Sure enough they soon could all hear it, the water gurgling over rocks as it cut through the woods, the sound both a blessing in covering their own noises and a bane in hiding the approach of elil. Many hopped about nervously as they approached, though the sight of grass still yet green along the banks and fresh water sent many cares flying to the wind as rabbits raced each other to be the first to silflay. The Owsla, ever watchful, approached much slower and panned out, always on the alert. Save one, a doe that kept pace with her Chief with a chuckle.

"Bralvaoil lay u zyhl éneeralt, marli?"

She whispered softly to her Rah, her Chief and her mother. The older doe simply grinned and shook her head. There was no point in reprimanding them, they needed this to keep going, to rekindle hope; as her daughter pointed out.

But the joy and relief was not to last for long.

The river brought life to the forest and those that lived there so it wasn't a surprise when they were confronted by another group of rabbits. Owsla bucks, by the looks of it. Old Ethilerah, flanked by her own Owsla, approached the meddling bucks with their teeth bared and ears pinned back.

The dark male grimaced in response, turning his head away from them with a sniff.

"Too many of you to be a band of hlessi, and they are smart enough to smell us and know not to approach. Kicked out from that warren on the hill I suspect? You'll find you're not welcome here. We have enough for our own and no more, away with you lot."

One of the Owsla does sneezed at this, whether to disguise a laugh or a growl was anyone's guess. Ethilerah simply chewed on the facts, her mind already at work. Showing no interest in leaving or being cowed by him, the Chief doe showed him as little respect as he had for her.

"We cannot, I'm afraid. Though yes, we were well aware of your presence here. We will move on when we've had our fill and have rested."

The buck obviously did not like the sound of this. Trespassers to be sure, and their Rah would not approve of the offered terms. Odd for a doe to be their speaker as well. Why would so many of them be turned out anyway? The thought didn't settle well.

"What did you say was your reason for leaving again?"

"I didn't."

The doe's short response was clipped, her patience wearing thin.

The buck, for his part, had never been challenged quite like this before. He had half a mind to try and chase them off, but there was simply too many of them. Bruxing in irritation, a certain dark thought came to mind and filled him with dread.

"You wouldn't be diseased would you?"

Her ears perked up at that, an idea starting to take shape.

"And what if we are?"

Her smile wasn't kind, and as she took a step forward her Owsla bunched in closer; a threatening mass that loomed towards the three bucks.

They had certainly heard and seen enough, and with quick, nervous glances to each other and towards the odd and possibly ill rabbits they slunk together away from the mass shadow and scurried off. No doubt back to their warren to report.

Ethilerah turned her head quickly to rap out an order, demanding that Lark take a few other runners and follow the bucks back to their warren. They weren't to stop them, but rather she wanted an idea of how far away they were, and an idea of how big their warren was.

A flick of brown fur and Lark was gone as well as several others. The Rah wasted no time. She hurried her rabbits away from the river and the place where the confrontation had occurred, grouping them together with Owslas and hiding them away herself. Slowly a half ring started to form around where they had met the bucks. Her plan hinged on them taking the same path back, but her hunch was these lot lacked creativity or a want to try another path.

What was a warren to do when a band of sick rabbits showed up but to drive them back?

She gave special instructions to the groups at the open end, leaving more Owsla and the stronger brutes here to close the gap to the river once the trap was sprung. As for herself? She would play the bait.

Settling her old body within easy sight right in the middle of everything. In time her runners came back to report. A large group of Owsla were gathering, they could only assume to head here. Their warren was large, too hard to get a headcount. More than their little band, they were sure. She sent them back to the trees to wait, explaining briefly what was about to happen.

And so it was that a large contingent of Owsla bounded up to find her still body slumped by the river. She had rubbed her body into the dirt to look worse for the wear, hoping the shock would catch them off guard just enough. It was a dangerous role for her to play, but it was her part in this mess and Rah or no she was determined to save her rabbits.

Even if it meant killing off a whole other warren.

A thump of alarm was sounded when they realized they'd been surrounded, and before they could think of something clever the Owsla does fell on them, though not as well fed and quite tired, the fight of desperation was in them and the brawl was a bloody one.

Frith had almost set by the time Ethilerah limped through the blood, taking stock of everything. A great many had died. Nearly all of their Owsla had been wiped out... including her last daughter. The one that had chuckled when they'd approached the river in the first place. The Rah breathed out heavily and closed her eyes as she touched her warm and wet nose to the cold and dry of her last heir, wishing to Frith that her place had been reversed.

"Sainte atha ma u Hrair, kan zyhlante hray u roolimi ma hyaones..."

Despair was everywhere. It lay thick on the survivors, though they were victorious. The cost had been too high. A few were tharn, and others were searching the river, where they were sure they'd seen a few dive into and perhaps escape. She couldn't worry about that though, or anything, there was no time. She might not live to see Frith rise again, but if she were to give her people a chance she had to press on, and quickly.

Lark had survived and together with his Rah they led the others through the forest to wait not far from the warren of their enemies. As Ethilerah expected, after Frith had set a runner was sent out from the warren. A quick word and a few of her own followed. Not long after her own rabbits returned, and she knew the runner never would. It was simple, really. Cut them off so they wouldn't know what happened. Pick them off through the night as they left. Keep them scared.

Her own rabbits slept in shifts, and three more times she heard reports of rabbits leaving the warren and meeting their end. The last one had pleaded for his life apparently, and the Rah wondered how many would turn over to them if they feared for their life.

Perhaps enough.

Just before dawn she roused them all and they went down to the warren, filling in side passages that lead to the surface as they found them, going off in groups since they wouldn't have much time. Their orders were clear, kill off anyone they could, block tunnels, suffocate them if necessary.

They found many of them tharn, or scrambling away from them and going down side tunnels, apparently afraid of the white blindness or some other disease they supposedly had. Apparently rumors had spread through the night. Ethilerah didn't see much of it herself. Too old to be of much use in actual combat, she could only watch the death and pray for forgiveness. Life was cruel, and they needed to survive. As many as there would be at the end, at any rate.

She never met their Rah, he had apparently dug himself almost to the surface by the time they'd come for him, and perhaps mistook him for just another rabbit. By the time Frith's light filtered through the leaves it was over, and it would take a very long time to clear out the stench of death and blood that soaked the earth.

She was alive, as well as a few others. A small gathering of the original warren members too, though many had run and escaped during the fighting. Something she would need to prepare for, certainly. It wouldn't do to have a new home only to have it taken over later due to some oversight.

In the days that followed the bodies were removed and dirty soil was shoveled out. What few of the original warren remained were treated well enough and began to settle. Those that had wandered so far to find a hard-won home tried to readjust to a warren lifestyle, and everyone on matter who they were or where they were from mourned.

And Ethilerah lifted her head and thought on what that Owsla buck had said about a warren on a hill. She mourned for her daughter, for the kittens surely lost in their old home so long ago, and for all the lives given so they could start again. Now was the question of how they would start again.

And Ethilerah was starting to have an idea.