As soon as she had rounded the corner by the curve, El-ahrairah lost not a moment, but dashed through the open gap and found himself in the strange light of the wood.
It was not like any wood he had ever known. To start with, it was full of odd sounds: Frightening sounds, which might have come from the trees or might have been made by animals; though what animals he could not tell. Furthermore, he could not find a single track or path. Sometimes he thought he could smell and hear water, but when he tried to go toward it he became confused. To go through the wood was something he had supposed would be easy to a rabbit of his knowledge and experience, but soon he found it was otherwise and that he was wandering in circles. He also felt sure that despite the noises, there was not a bird or any other living creature throughout the length and breadth he covered.
For four days and more--for hrair days--El-ahrairah wandered starving in that terrible wood, for there was no grass there. More than once he would have gone back, but he no more knew the way back than the way on. At last, one day, he came to a steep slope in the solitude, and at the foot of the slope ran a little stream, all overgrown. He determined to follow that stream, for sooner or later it must, he felt sure, run out of the wood, though on which side he could not tell.
He followed the stream for two days and became so faint that he could go no further. He sank down and fell asleep, and when he woke could see that lower down the course of the stream there was a faint glow of brighter light. He stumbled toward it and at last came to a marshy place, where the water ran out of the wood into a smooth, green meadow stretching away as far as he could see. The grass was the best he had ever eaten and full of cowslips. He ate all he wanted, found a hole in a bank and slept for a full day and night.
When he woke he began to wander across the great meadow. It was full of flowers: buttercups and moon daisies, tormentil and orchid and salad burnet. His energy returned, and he began to wonder which way he ought now to take in his strange journey. As he rested on a bank where clumps of scented valerian were growing, he was startled to see once again his friend the yellowhammer, flitting about in the hedge.
"El-ahrairah! El-ahrairah!" [sang the yellowhammer]
"El-ahrairah is healed and full,
And he must seek the great white bull."
El-ahrairah was puzzled at this, for he had supposed that he would now have to seek the Second Cow, of whom there was no sign. But he trusted the yellowhammer and went on with his journey over the grassy plain. He met no other animals and felt so safe that for two nights he lay down to sleep in the open.
On the third day he came to a place where the grass was all grazed short and trodden, and there, ahead of him, he saw the white bull. He had never seen so noble a creature. His great eyes were blue as the sky, and his long, curved horns were pure golden in color, while his coat was soft and white as summer clouds.
El-ahrairah greeted the bull as a friend, for he could tell that he would not harm him. They sat together in the grass and talked of nothing--of flowers and sunshine.
"Do you live here alone?" asked El-ahrairah.
"Alas! I am alone," replied the bull. "I long for a mate, and in time gone by Frith promised me her whom they call the Second Cow; but I can never reach her, for she is surrounded by a great expanse of sharp rocks and pointed boulders, which cut my legs and break my hooves. I have lived here many months, but I can find no way to pass that cruel ravine."
"Show me the way," said El-ahrairah. "It may be that a rabbit can get through."
Then the white bull led him a long way over the plain, until at last they came to the edge of the ravine about which he had spoken. It was a mass of stones sharp as gorse and thick as brambles, stretching, as it seemed, for miles.
"No bull can ever cross that," sighed the white bull sorrowfully. "Yet that is the only way to the Second Cow."
"A rabbit may very well be able to go where a bull cannot," replied El-ahrairah. "I will go, f
riend bull, and bring you back word of what I find."
Then El-ahrairah set off to slip in and out of the pointed boulders and between the sharp rocks. It was hard going even for a rabbit, and many times he was forced to stop and judge how best he could make his way forward. For three days he went on, over stones which cut his feet and rocks which scraped his sides as he squeezed between them. And at sunset on the third day he came out onto a flat place beyond the stones and saw facing him the Second Cow.
She was gaunt and thin, with an air of lonely sorrow which moved him at once to pity her. He greeted her cheerfully, but she barely answered him, only telling him that he was welcome to make the best of the poor grass and to sleep under the nearest bank. In the morning he again spoke to her as a friend and told her of his journey and of the white bull, but she seemed so distracted and wretched that he could not tell whether she had understood him or not.
El-ahrairah stayed several days with the poor, unhappy cow but could not find any way to dispel her gloom. One day, as he was following her over the thin grass, he saw sharp rocks springing out of the ground in her very hoofsteps. He knew then the secret of her enchantment. The bitter land all around--yes, and the harsh, impassable ravine itself--were the reflection of her stony heart.
El-ahrairah set himself to use all his powers to comfort and encourage the Second Cow. He told her of the shallows of streams at sunset, where minnows swim and marsh marigolds grow thick in the little pools. He told her of sorrel and buttercups in the meadows where cows swish their tails in the long afternoons of June and July. He told her of newborn calves leaping and playing on the grass. He told her everything he could think of which could gladden and lighten her spirits.
At first she seemed to take in little of what he had to say, but as the days went by and the rain fell and the sun shone in that harsh place, gradually her heart seemed to lighten. At last, one night, she told him that if he would guide her she would do her best to cross the ravine. But lo and behold! next morning, when they came to the edge, they saw the sharp rocks crumbling and green grass springing up between them. It was the melting of her own distracted heart.
Cautiously and gently El-ahrairah led the Second Cow into the ravine, which broke up before them as they went on. After a day and a night they climbed slowly up what had become the grassy edge of the further side, all twined now with ground ivy and dotted with blue bugle, and there waiting for them was the white bull.
Now began a happy time, while El-ahrairah remained with his friends on the great plain. He stayed for the whole winter and the following summer, and as it came on to autumn the Second Cow bore a beautiful calf, whom she named Whitethorn.
Whitethorn and El-ahrairah became great friends, and in the evenings El-ahrairah used to tell her stories about his warren and about his adventures in the days before he had set out on his search. One day, as he was telling Whitethorn of the trick he had played on the dog Rowsby Woof, the yellowhammer flew down to the juniper and sang:
"Summer spent and almost gone,
El-ahrairah must journey on."
"Ah! Little bird!" said El-ahrairah. "Don't tell me to leave my friends! I'm so happy here."
But the yellowhammer only sang: