"I no feel 'im yesterday. Yesterday I t'ink you got time to start. But today feel different. You no got time. Cold coming very soon."
Knowing and trusting Kehaar as they did, the four Watership rabbits set off for home at once, while the gull flew to Efrafa to tell Campion that the project was postponed. Campion was skeptical. "It doesn't look like frost to me."
"Den you go out dere, you make damn' fine ice rabbit," said Kehaar, and flew away without another word.
14
Flyairth
If a mother could be content to be nothing but a mother:
but where would you find one who would be satisfied
with that part alone?
ELIAS CANETTI, Auto da Fae
From winter, plague and pestilence, good Lord, deliver us!
THOMAS NASHE, Summer's Last Will and Testament
Just as the gull had said, the unexpected cold was not long in coming. During the very night after their return, there was a sharp frost. The cold continued throughout the following day, and next night the frost was even more bitter. It was clear to all Hazel's rabbits that now they were in for the winter cold of which Kehaar had warned them. From then on, keen frosts lasted all day and each night were intensified under empty, clear skies. From horizon to horizon the stars glittered with an icy brilliance, and below them nothing moved on the frozen ground. Birds and animals either starved or else left the Down to try their luck below, in the fields and gardens of Ecchinswell or Kingsclere. The owls and kestrels perforce followed their prey, and from Beacon Hill to Cottington's Clump the high ridges were deserted.
None of Hazel's rabbits had ever experienced so prolonged or bitter a frost. There was little nourishment in the thin, many-times-nibbled grass, and little warmth to be gained from bodies huddled together underground. They became torpid and drowsy. Some supposed that the frost would never come to an end, and were hard to convince that endurance was worthwhile and their proper response, as ordained by Lord Frith.
One afternoon the cold lessened slightly. Cloud filled the western sky and moved gradually closer until it lay overhead. Heavy it seemed, as though carrying an invisible load pressing upon the Down and holding it even stiller than the frost. There was not the least wind, yet the cloud mass, which now filled the whole sky, moved slowly eastward, thickening as it came.
Snow began to fall; at first only a little, scattered here and there and gone as it reached the ground. A light but bitter breeze sprang up, driving the flakes before it as they increased. Soon the fall grew heavy, so that there was nothing to be seen through the flakes but more distant flakes, spinning and whirling as they fell. Before long they began to cover the grass, lying between the tussocks in patches which grew and came together to form sheets. By dusk the whole Down was overlaid, and onto the smooth whiteness fell more snow, slowly covering and deepening the fragile mass.
Gazing out at the snow, Hazel, who had done his best every day to meet and talk with all his rabbits, knew that the time had come to lead them down to the winter burrows dug by Bluebell, Pipkin and the does during the autumn. He had never been to look them over, and for this he blamed himself. One thing was sure: there could be no more digging now, with the ground hard as rock. They would have to take the winter burrows as they found them.
However, he thought that first he would go down the hill by himself and see what the burrows were like. Then he realized that he would have to take Bluebell with him, since Bluebell had assured him that the holes were well concealed, and without him he would probably not be able to find them. Finally he decided to take Bluebell, Pipkin and any of the does who wanted to come.
He had got them together and was on the point of setting out, when he was joined by Bigwig, who wondered where they were going and why. When Hazel told him, he asked to join the party, and Hazel, peering out into the still-falling snow, felt glad enough to take him along.
The snow caused them to difficulty over the direction to take, for it was simply a matter of running the short distance to the northern edge of the Down and then descending the steep slope to its foot. They could see almost nothing, however, through the falling snow, and neither Bluebell nor Pipkin could remember where the holes were and how far along the foot of the Down they needed to go. After some fruitless searching, Pipkin ventured to say that he thought they had come too far and ought to turn back and look along a particular bank which he now recalled. He was proved right almost at once, when Bluebell, going a little way up a snowy slope, came upon one of the holes, concealed by a clump of thistles.
Hazel and Bigwig found him crouching over the mouth of the hole, looking at it in an uncertain way, as though puzzled.
"Hazel-rah," he said, "if I'm not mistaken, this hole's been in use for quite some time. What's more, I think there are some rabbits down there now." He moved aside. "See what you think."
Hazel put his front paws through the snow. He could not be sure, but certainly he seemed to feel a scraped depression in the frozen ground and a slight irregularity in the mouth of the hole itself. There was a fresh smell of rabbits. He turned to Bigwig.
"I think he's right. There are some rabbits down there. We'd better go in ourselves, I suppose, and find out who they are."
So saying, without hesitation he went into the hole. He knew that Bigwig was behind him and felt sure enough that the others would follow. It was quite a long run, without obstructions, but as far as he could tell there was no enemy waiting for him at the other end. He came out into the burrow and paused for Bigwig to join him.
It was at this moment that he found himself confronted by a heavy, burly doe, a complete stranger. Her manner was hostile, and behind her was clustered a group of several younger rabbits.
"What do you think you're doing, coming in here?" said the doe. "Get out, before I--"
She stopped on seeing Bigwig behind Hazel, and as she hesitated Bluebell and Pipkin came out into the burrow, followed by four does.
"I think you'd better tell us who you are and what you're doing here," said Hazel, quietly but firmly. "This is our burrow. We dug it."
As the doe still hesitated, Bigwig, at Hazel's side, said tentatively, "Could you possibly be ... are you ... that is ... is your name Flyairth, and have you come from Thinial?"
At this, the doe started, trembling with real fear. Her whole manner changed. Bigwig said nothing more. At length she replied, "Who are you? How could you know--" She broke off.