i n s t i n c t -------------------------------------------------------------------------- April 19th, after sunhigh, the Glade The Glade is silent. The silence is stony, like a wall between me and the others. Accusing. The silence is accusing. Finally, after an eternity of silence and stony stares, Pa Marigold stands up. I can almost hear his bones creaking, and I fight the urge to giggle. “We are here because a crime has been committed,” he begins, and several gasps follow this statement. “A crime the likes of which we’ve almost never seen before. And it was committed by one of our own.” Geez. Go ahead and sugarcoat things, why don’t you. Before he can make me look any worse, I step forward. Loyd brushes his beak nervously and shifts from one foot to the other. “That’s right,” I say. “I did draw blood, even if it was unintentionally. And I ate meat because otherwise the weasel would have gone ahead and done who knows what. So before you let the old rabbit get you starting to think that I did it on purpose to challenge the food chain or whatever, think about this; I did it to save their lives. And it did.” Bailey the mole nods from the stands, but nobody pays him much attention. Collin sits beside him, looking straight ahead. Staring pointedly away from me. “But,” says a rabbit in her mid-seasons, “What’s stopping her from doing it again? We all know the real reason predators keep killing and refuse to eat our cherry scones. The taste of meat is addicting.” There are many murmurs of assent, and I grit my teeth. “Does the fact I saved their lives count for nothing?” I demand, gesturing with my paw towards where Collin, Bailey and the molecrew are sitting. Then I remember that I’m still holding my dagger, so this may not be the best thing to be doing right now. “Possibly,” says Pa Marigold. “Is there anyone who wishes to speak in defense of Artemis Jacques?” The silence stings. “She was the only one willing to protect the lives of the molecrew,” says Loyd. “While the rest of you were hiding in your burrows with the doors shut, I might add.” “I was playing with my dolls,” a little leveret pipes up. Her mother shushes her immediately. “Well,” says Pa Marigold, “Shall I raise the question of where she got the dagger in the first place?” “When we found the dead moose in the Plentiful Summer,” I say, “I took the chunk of horn as a memento. I put it on a stick in case I ever needed it. It makes a good rolling pin.” “I declare this trial over,” says Pa Marigold. “She is guilty.” “Wait, what?!” I’m not sure if it’s me or Loyd who says it. “Yes. Guilty as charged. Now what on earth do we do with you?” I can’t believe how casually he’s talking about this. Or how fast he decided I’m guilty and let nobody else have a say. Not even me, the accused. Diane raises her paw. “Yes?” asks Pa Marigold, drawing out the word into three syllables. “Well I read somewhere that someone else did this and they were… they got exiled? And I obviously don’t want to do that but it’s only a suggestion.” Her smug face shows just how good of a ‘suggestion’ she thinks it is. “Suggestion approved,” says Pa Marigold. “You make a horrible leader,” I tell him. “And you!” I point to Collin. “You’re my one family member who was there, I saved you and-” He shrugs. “You drew blood and ate meat. You did save our lives, but I’d say this is a fair punishment.” “You’re just as bad as the rest of them,” I say, blinking back tears. No. I won’t cry. Under Pa Marigold’s gaze, Diane brushes fake tears from her eyes; for all I know, it’s drops of dew from the grasses. But she would never shed a single tear for me, nor for her. This is all just for show. I glare at her and anyone and everyone else who meets my eyes. Some look apologetic, while others seem scared out of their wits. It’s strangely comforting to know at least I still make a difference, even if it’s a bad difference. “Fine,” I say. “I’m leaving.” Pa Marigold looks up from his vain attempts to get Diane to stop fake-crying. “Leave? You can’t leave! We exiled you!” “Why does it matter,” asks Loyd, from his spot above us all, “If she’ll be out of your fur?” Pa Marigold shrugs. “There,” I say. “That’s settled. I’m leaving, never to set foot here again. Yippee, and all that.” Loyd follows me out of the Glade, and I’ve never felt so glad to hear wingbeats above me. At least someone’s on my side. The rest of Brockmoor is huge. Sure, I’ve been out of the Burrow plenty of times, but now I can actually see for myself how tiny it is compared to the world. And the best part? I can go wherever I want. There’s no nagging Diane with some new record accomplishment. No wheezing Pa Marigold making decisions based on strands of thought with no real evidence. I’m free.
(cont from above) I have a split second to grip my dagger tighter and wonder how in the name of Brockmoor I’ll get out of this without drawing blood, and without breaking the food chain, and then it’s my turn to lunge. The weasel’s eyes widen; he wasn’t expecting me to full-on attack him. I bet he thought I would back away like a good little rabbit because I’m too scared of breaking the food chain. Let him think what he wants, I’m not full-on attacking him. I run straight for him, yes, with a dagger in my paw, but I’ve been jumping and leaping all my life. It’s kind of what rabbits do. So it’s really easy to twist and whack my moose-horn dagger at his teeth, but I’m still not expecting the small fang to fall out. Or the drop of blood to fall, though I barely register it. The weasel grins despite the circumstances. “So you’ve got some fight in you. So what. You’re still a scared li’l rabbit. Besides, you don’t have the guts to do anything to me. Don’t think I didn’t see you twist and avoid hitting my face. Heh, but you drew blood. I bet you’re too scared to eat meat, though.” I don’t know where he’s going with this, but I don’t exactly hear anything past ‘You’re still a scared li’l rabbit.’ If that’s how every predator thinks of us, I’ll show them something they’ve never seen before. I grit my teeth, the insult still ringing in my ears. “I’ll do it,” I say, not even remembering what exactly I’m going to do. His grin turns wild as he pulls out a hunk of meat, seasoned with rosemary and mint. I’m training to be an Herbalist. I know my herbs. It’s, like, mandatory. Oh, wait. He wants me to eat that? That’s what I agreed to? Just no. I won’t, I can’t, I- ‘Scared li’l rabbit’ I grit my teeth again - at this rate, they’ll be little stubs if they aren’t already - and grab the meat before I can debate it anymore. I stare at it for a second, hating myself for doubting what I’m about to do. The weasel laughs. “You’re all talk, rabbit. No substance. Ha, I bet that-” I don’t hear what he bets, because I’m trying to swallow the bite of meat. It’s all fleshy and warm and it actually doesn’t taste half bad. Now I want more, but I’m savouring both the taste and the look on the weasel’s face. “Here that? This rabbit drew blood and ate meat, and we’ve got witnesses to prove it!” I glare at the weasel, and then it occurs to me that he’s speaking to someone. I turn around slowly. Collin, Bailey, and the rest of the molecrew are staring at me. I feel my spirits sinking with each face I see. Fear. Anger. Worry. Sympathy? I can’t tell, but it’s all there. Loyd hasn’t flown away. Instead, he’s sitting on a tree branch and positively glaring at the squirrel who’s starting up a chant. I twitch my ears. “She broke the food chain! She broke the food chain! Hee hee hee! She broke the food chain!” The other squirrels take up the chant, and it echoes around the Farm. “I did it to save their lives!” I argue, pointing at Bailey and his crew. “My work here is done. Been a pleasure sparring with you, rabbit.” The weasel strolls away, whistling and laughing. I have half a mind to chase him, but a wizened old rabbit walks into the Mushroom Farm, looking over the sea of faces. His eyes land on me. “Artemis Jacques, yes?” I can only nod. It’s Old Pa Marigold. His family helped build the Main Burrow. It’s rare to see him at all, never mind out here. He fixes us with a cool stare and says, “The Glade. Come.” The rest of us only stare after him. He turns and glares at us. “All of you. Come on now, I’m not getting any more enthusiastic about being here.” I don’t understand. The Glade is where we go only when something big is about to happen. I fall back and wait for Loyd. “What’s going on?” I ask, even though I have the inkling of an idea as to what might be happening. “Well,” he says, gliding overtop of me, “I know you did it to protect them and stall for time, but you did break the food chain. I couldn’t care less, but they’re so worked up over it that they’re holding a trial for you.” “They what?!” I yelp, because that almost never happens, and when it does, it’s for something really serious. But I guess breaking the code we live by, the one set of rules we follow, well, I guess that might count as serious. I pick up the tooth and shove it in the bag I keep the notebook in. A memory of this day, even if I don't know how it'll end. I take a deep breath, hold my head high because if I don’t, Diane will be all smug at me, and I walk into the Glade. (end of entry) -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Words: 1794 Time: 40-ish minutes -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Entries: First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/538635109/ Next: You are here -------------------------------------------------------------------------- just look at the huge shadow Artemis is casting in the thumb- i literally foreshadowed
