The Monster at Hertofshire Hall
an excerpt

“Many, many years ago, before King Haven ruled, there was a family of rabbits that lived in the forests outside of Haventown.” Burliwhite modulated his motions and sounds perfectly, painting a picture that you could almost see. “Their warren was amidst the roots of a great oak tree, and reached far into the ground where it was always warm. The holes were large, and the dens that came off them were even bigger. Every day the rabbits would gather inside the burrow of soft earth and fall asleep in great clumps telling each other about their night. They slept in piles inside the big dens, because they always wanted to be close to each other. Looking inside on of those dens, you saw just a fuzzy mountain that softly heaved in and out as the bunnies breathed. As each one sensed it was twilight, he would slowly wiggle his way out and quietly bound up to the surface to begin his night. As twilight turned to night, the mountain got smaller and smaller, until all the rabbits were up and about.
“One night though, two rabbits stayed past when the others had left. One was a Daddy rabbit, and the other a great-belied Mama rabbit, heavy with a litter. The Daddy rabbit was worried; his wife was writhing on the floor in pain, hardly seeing anything. It had never been that bad before and he thought, perhaps, she was very sick. When she had the litter his heart began to break, for each small baby bunny that came out was still and lifeless. Four, five, six little bunnies, all dead. He cried and cried, and nestled up to the Mama bunny to comfort her. Then, however, one more baby came, and this one was alive! The Mama and Daddy loved the bunny and they called him Burliwhite, for he had a small white blotch on his hind leg that didn’t seem to belong on his brown coat.” Here, the rabbit motioned to the white spot on his flank.
“You,” I whispered sadly.
Burliwhite nodded and continued. “Unbeknownst to me or my parents, there was another family that was going through the exact same things that night. High in the branches of the very same tree we were under, a Mama squirrel had her litter. Like the Mama rabbit, six came out still and one came out alive, and just like the rabbits, they loved the one that lived very much. He had a white blotch on his hindquarter that didn’t belong on his gray coat. They named him Grundiwhite.”
I looked over at the squirrel sleeping soundly on top of my blanket. His miniature chest rose and fell far faster than a human’s would when sleeping. I leaned forward for the rabbit to continue his story, and I noticed that Carl inched forward as well.
“Grundiwhite and Burliwhite lived their first months never knowing about each other. Squirrels sleep in the night, when rabbits are awake, and so there was no reason for much interaction. Then one day, the Great Badger made a pronouncement to all the lesser forest creatures – to the moles, rabbits, squirrels, gophers, badgers, hedgehogs, and chipmunks. Any new child born in the last year with a marking of white must be presented to the Great Council at the next full moon.”
Burliwhite shivered. Whether it was part of his story telling, or he was just reliving the memory I was not sure. “I was frightened. Rabbits rarely went forward before the council, much less were called before the council. Daddy talked about leaving the forest. He said nothing good could possibly come of such a meeting. Mama wouldn’t here of it. She insisted that I was a good bunny, a good member of the burrow, and that they meant no harm. I soon found out what the council meant for me.
“The full moon came and I found myself sitting in front of the Great Badger in a line of nearly a dozen others forest creatures. There was a hedgehog that was completely white, who was dismissed straightaway. The Great Badger walked up and down the line, inspecting us all. Slowly he sent others away. He told the three moles gathered that they had too many blotches. When he got to the skunk he chuckled and sent him away without an explanation. Finally, he stood before me. He looked me over for what seemed like an entire night, and finally nodded his head with a grunt and moved on down the line. He didn’t tell me to leave.
“After sending home a squirrel and two other rabbits, he stood back and looked at the two that were left. The moon was now directly above the tree that the Council met beside, and the thick canopy of leaves overhead cut off the light, but for a faint, eerie glow. ‘State your names,’ said a pompous gopher, and so we did. Grundiwhite and Burliwhite. The Great Badger nodded thoughtfully. He called our parents forward and had them explain our births, how we were both the only of a litter of seven that survived.”
“The Great Badger shooed them away and lumbered to a root that stuck up from the soil. ‘Many moons ago, I had a vision,’ he said. ‘In that vision I saw a forest creature with a white spot. On the wall next to him was a riddle, written in shiny metal:

The seventh son marked,
the only son scarred.
One in the same, but two bound.
With long life blessed, to glory found.

Together they are, and together they stay,
friends, family, servants same.
Finding Home in leaving,
Finding Home to last.

“The Great Badger looked down at us then, a moonbeam suddenly finding a chink in the leaves overhead and falling upon me and the squirrel. I wondered if the Great Badger could control the moonlight. It seemed to burn almost. All the gathered animals starred at us and we huddled closer together. ‘You have found long life,’ said the Badger, ‘by taking the lives of your siblings. And so you must leave here. Elsewhere will you find your home. Never more shall live here, only pass through.’
“The words shocked me and I shared a look with Grundiwhite beside me. He was horrorstruck, just as I. I wanted to cry out that I hadn’t killed anyone, that I wasn’t even born yet, that it was all a mistake that I had the white spot, but I could do nothing but shake and nestle next to the only creature in the world that could have known what I felt like.” Burliwhite shook again and I was sure that this time he shook because the memory still haunted him. The fur around his small, beady eyes was wet with tears. I bent down and gathered him up in my arms and held him tight against my chest. He was quaking.
I didn’t expect him to continue, but he did. “Afterwards,” he said softly, “no one wanted me there. Only Mama and Daddy cared for me anymore. The other rabbits wouldn’t let me back into the burrow, and I slept outside in the cold with Mama and Daddy that day. When I woke I found Grundiwhite there, waiting. His family had kicked him out, had told him to leave and never come back. I nestled him and he cried for a very long time.
“When my parents woke up, they came over and joined our mourning. They decided to take us out to another forest nearby, and dig us a burrow. They thought that eventually the animals would forget what the Great Badger had said and we would be allowed back, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t true. Before we left the forest, five porcupines halted us. ‘Only the little ones,’ they said. ‘The Great Badger said the marked ones must go alone.’ And that was that. They used their quills to prod us onward and to keep my parents from following. We were alone.
“The porcupines took us far outside of the forest, further than I’d ever been, and left us. That was a hard time.” Burliwhite stopped again and buried his face into my shirt as if to hide from the very story he was telling. “Two days later, we met your father.” He said. “He was sitting alone in a clearing, next to a large, mossy boulder, and he was sad. Maybe there is something about sadness that draws mourning people together, I don’t know. What I do know is that Grundiwhite and I went over to him and he opened his eyes.
“He looked at us for a long time, and then finally spoke. ‘I have done something very bad,’ he confessed soberly, ‘something that can’t be undone.’”
“We came closer. ‘Us too,’ we said.”
“He nodded. None of us wanted details, we just wanted someone who understood. He gathered us up in his arms and took us home. That’s where we have been ever since.”
I looked down at the fat little rabbit with new eyes. Burliwhite and Grundiwhite, the marked ones. The outcasts. I hugged the bunny tighter and he wiggled into to the crook of my arm as I petted him with my other hand.
A sniff brought my attention to Carl, still sprawled out on the ground, but now with head outstretched toward the sleeping squirrel. He nudged Grundiwhite with his nose and the squirrel sleepily cuddled up against the horse’s head.
They fell asleep like that shortly before I did.