"Ooh, newcomers!" he sang in a high voice.

Peter and Kurt exchanged confused glances and in that instant, Peter wondered if the speckled rebel leader next to him had actually ever encountered his magnanimous foe in the flesh before. After all, he seemed just as wrong-footed and lost with the Emperor's shrill welcome as Peter was.

"How delightful," Morellius added wistfully.

Emperor Morellius was the fattest rabbit anyone in Peter's group had ever seen before. He was so fat that when he hopped up and down to greet them, reams of flab hanging off his sides flapped up and down. But for a rabbit of such obese proportions, he was a sprightly old thing and hopped about madly.

"We've never had outsiders come before," he explained pleasantly. "For a while we started to believe there wasn't anybody else. How scary is that? Thinking the entire future of the rabbit species rests on your shoulders..."

This nightmarish vision seemed to distract him and he went silent for a few moments. Then behind the seven outsiders that courtier, Boxer snorted derisively and Morellius shuddered back into the here and now.

"I would offer you something to eat," he told them. "But I don't want to fill your bellies before the feast." He paused, but he gabbled so fast all the time it wasn't much of a hesitation. "Oh, you are here for the festivities, aren't you?"

"Erm..." Kurt began slowly.

"Of course," Peter cut in.

"Oh, excellent!" cried the Emperor, bouncing up and down again. "We'll always welcome such virile males as yourselves to our little community. That silly rabbit over there thought you were a threat to us. Silly Fox Mulder, silly!"

Fox Mulder was standing beside Boxer looking glum. This imperial put-down made him look even more glum and after an instructive snort from the leader of the courtiers, Mulder slunk away sheepishly and ashamed.

"This really is very exciting," Morellius continued in hushed tones. "Tell me, where have you all come from? Is there another warren where captive breds and natural borns exist in such a harmony as our own?"

Kurt almost exploded when he heard this.

"Oh, no," Peter corrected the Emperor. "We don't come from the same warren as these three. No, the four of us, uh, 'natural borns' come from a warren a very long way away. We met these three on the way here."

"Yet you travel together," said the Emperor, stopping his jumping for just a second. "Fascinating. Yet you are the leader, no?"

"No, not really," said Peter. "It is my expedition, that is true, but we couldn't have got here without the help of these, um, 'captive breds'."

Benjamin Bunny sniffed loudly at this.

"Hmm," went Emperor Morellius, taking his eyes off Peter for the first time, sidling over to Kurt and then stopping his leaping again. "You," he said slowly. "Do I know you? You look strangely familiar, somehow..."

"No," Kurt said quickly. "We've never met."

"I see," the Emperor muttered. "Oh, well. I guess when you rule over a warren of such vast proportions as my good self, you end up seeing so many rabbits day in day out that they all end up looking alike." He smirked.

Boxer and his courtiers chuckled obsequiously.

"Tell me, good sir, are you the nobility where you come from?" Emperor Morellius returned his interrogation back to Peter.

"No," Peter said, wondering how best to explain this. "There is no nobility. We have a leader, and elders, but age and therefore wisdom is pretty much the only thing that marks you out above the rest."

"Ah," went Morellius. "But what about the captive breds? Where do they come in your social order? Are they... equals?"

Peter glanced at Kurt uneasily. "Umm, well, there are no captive breds," he explained. "In fact, Kurt and this lot were the first I'd ever seen."

"Boris!" said Kurt quickly. "My name is Boris!"

The Emperor gave him a withering glance, then looked back at Peter. "No captive breds. None at all." He paused. "Why is that? Have you... have you banished them? Purged them from society in the interests of preserving rabbit purity?"

"Er, no," said Peter, seeing Morellius' eyes light up as if he was beginning to contemplate a great eugenics campaign. "We just don't have any."

"Fascinating," said Morellius again, but the smile that came with it was dead and cold. "I had no idea such places existed, where nature has been selective and mankind has no negative influence on your society..."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Peter said deeply.

Emperor Morellius sighed. "Here, on the other hand," he said, turning round and finally planting himself between the throne-like roots of the tree. "Mankind is the greatest blight on our existence. Perhaps you have heard."

"Yes," said Peter, then he went on to briefly summarise all he had heard about Roadkill Turnpike. The Emperor listened intently, engrossed by the scale of the legends and looking quite pleased his lands were so widely known.

"Alas," he said, once Peter had finished. "The truth is... somewhat less mythical. Did you see that terrible, terrible meeting of human roads out there on your way in? It's a non-stop stream of killer humans, and there's no stopping them."

"Didn't look non-stop to me," Mark commented quietly.

Morellius shot him a look. "The humans will be back," he said sharply, and for the first time they all got a glimpse of a darker character beneath such a friendly façade. "The cycle of death is never-ending. That much of your legend is true."

For a few brief moments, the atmosphere was electrified.

"But there is no war," the Emperor muttered. "No, that part of your legend is pure storytelling. If only, eh? No, here there is no fighting mankind. What would be the point? No, here we must find... other ways to cope."

Beside Peter, Kurt pointedly cleared his throat.

"Well, anyway," Morellius continued, clapping his forepaws together and returning to the jolly fat bloke façade. "This place you come from sounds just marvellous. How far away did you say it was again?"

"It took us about a week to get here," Peter told him, then he briefly explained the route they had taken. Emperor Morellius nodded throughout.

"And are there roads like these there?" he asked.

"Not like this, no," Peter said. "But we do have roads and they are just as dangerous. There are... casualties. Infrequently, thankfully."

Morellius nodded sagely. "Have you ever lost anyone?"

"Umm..." Peter opened his mouth, but then he faltered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the Emperor murmured. "How very uncouth of me. Here, you see, death on the roads is part of our very existence. We all know some that have died, because it happens to one in every two of us here."

Peter nodded, chewed his tongue. "My family," he said. Then he gave the Emperor a staggered narrative of recent events, leaving out Mopsy for now. Once again, Morellius listened patiently and nodded throughout.

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear about your loss," the Emperor told him. "But if it's any consolation, I understand exactly what you must be feeling now. And I know plenty of people must have said the exact same thing to you in the last few weeks, but here your losses aren't, sadly, at all unique. I, myself, am orphaned, not only from my parents, but all my siblings. I don't even have any cousins left."

"Thank you," Peter whispered sadly.

"But here we can not dwell on death," Emperor Morellius declared, suddenly the beaming, happy heart of the scene once more. "Those who have died are in the majority. That makes those of us who are still alive special. We are here for a purpose, and that purpose is to live, and to spread life." He paused. That was the rhetoric spiel. He added quietly, "It's how we get over our losses..."

Peter nodded. He was quickly beginning to realise that not only were the old legends he'd been told about Roadkill Turnpike false, but that Kurt, Chris and Dave's paranoid conspiracy theories were nutjob talk as well.

"Hence, tonight's festivities," the Emperor continued. "Right now, rabbits are collecting food for the grand feast. We need to keep our strength up, after all. There is much work to be done. It should be very enjoyable for us all..."

"Just what is it you are celebrating?" Mark wondered.

"Why," said Morellius. "Life, of course..."

"Oh. Right." But it all seemed a little trite to Mark.

"Now, we must find you all somewhere to bed down," the Emperor said. "You won't be getting much sleep these next few days, but once the festivities are over, believe me, you'll want to hibernate until high summer..."

"Um, actually..." Peter began.

"Ah, I know what you're going to say," Morellius interjected. "Of course. Silly me. You've been travelling for so long and you've come so far. You must be shattered. You look shattered. You could probably do with some rest before tonight; good idea. Boxer, help these folks find themselves a hole."

"Actually, what I was going to say-"

"Do the seven of you want to stay together?" Morellius continued unabated. "That won't be a problem, if so. Perhaps one of the unfortunate advantages of having such a mortality rate is that we never run out of room..."

"No," said Peter firmly when he could finally get a word in. "Actually, what I was trying to say was, we're not here to stay."

The Emperor's face fell. "What?"

"Look, it's a long story, but we're only passing through."

"Passing through?" Morellius repeated, confused.

"Yes," Peter said awkwardly. "You remember when I said my family was all killed? Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. My daughter, Mopsy, she survived, but I didn't know, and by the time I found out about it, she was already gone." Then he went on to explain, once more, why she had been heading here.

Emperor Morellius looked rejected. "So, you didn't come here to join our little community, then?" he said, getting a bit stroppy about it. "I see. Well, now I look like a fool for assuming you were, don't I?" He snorted. So did Boxer.

"No, not at all," Peter said quickly. "I should have made our intentions clear from the start. I'm sorry. There just wasn't a right time to mention it..."

"Well, I shouldn't really be surprised, should I?" the Emperor started grumbling to himself. "We've never had anybody leave us before, but then, we've never had people come and join us voluntarily, either. Who would want to when the chances are they'll die before their next birthday, eh? Silly me..."

Peter sighed. "Look, for what it's worth," he said quietly. "If circumstances were different and I didn't have the responsibilities I do, then I don't reckon this would be too bad a place to live." He quickly added, "You have made us feel very welcome in this short time, Your Majesty."

"Does he speak for all of you, then?" Morellius said.

The other six all nodded and muttered.

"So, will you let me look for my daughter?" asked Peter.

Morellius appeared to tense up. "Well, what makes you think she even made it here on her own?" he asked defensively.

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "This is where she was heading. She followed pretty much the same directions as us. And if there's a chance she's here, I have to find her, sir. I'm sure you understand, as an orphan yourself."

The Emperor glared at him. He didn't look like the kind of fellow who liked his own rhetoric turned against him and Peter was a little worried about pushing him too far. Morellius looked over at Boxer, who was looking bored.

"Have you heard of any new arrivals, Boxer?"

"Nope," Boxer said with a shrug.

"Well, would you have heard about it?" Peter asked. "I mean, she would have been alone. She could have just sneaked in and nobody would have known about it. I mean, you only knew about us because of that Fox Mulder."

"I think if any young ladies wandered into the middle of that field out there prattling on about waging war on the world of man," Boxer said haughtily. "Emperor Morellius would have been one of the first to hear about it..."

Peter glanced back at the field, remembering something.

"Actually, where are all your women, Your Majesty?"

Morellius tensed up even more. He looked severely put upon, and trapped by the roots of the tree that formed his throne. His eyes flicked back and forth between Peter and Boxer. Peter narrowed his own eyes suspiciously.

"They... live separately," the Emperor explained.

"Separately?" Kurt growled through his teeth.

"Yes," Morellius continued. "We males live in one part of the warren, this part, the newer part, where all the work is done, the food collected, the warren expanded, that kind of thing. The females live apart in the older half of the warren, which is quieter, more protected, all the better for child-rearing."

"I see," said Peter. "And can you take me there?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," the Emperor said shakily. He was still looking over at Boxer intermittently.

"Well, if she'd walked into that half of the warren instead of this half," Mark postulated. "Would you have heard about it?"

Morellius swallowed. "No. Perhaps not."

"There you go, then," said Mark. "That's where she'll be."

"So, will you take me there?" Peter asked again.

The Emperor glanced over at Boxer. "Yes," he said slowly. "But you and only you. The rest of you can wait here. And Boxer will go with you. You'll only scare the lasses running around on your own. Stick with him at all times."

Peter nodded. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Hmm," went Emperor Morellius, sinking further into his throne.

Boxer came forward and stood behind Peter, breathing noisily through his nostrils. Beside Peter, Kurt was trying to attract Peter's attention, but Peter turned to regard Boxer instead. He nodded in acknowledgement. Boxer snorted.

"You'll have to have finished before the festivities, of course," Morellius said, though Peter didn't know whether to him or Boxer.

"And how long is it until they start?" asked Peter.

"One hour," the Emperor said, looking up at the sun.

"One hour?" said Peter. "And how many females do you have here?"

Morellius puffed out his cheeks. "Oh... about a thousand."

"A thousand?! I have to check a thousand in one hour?! On my own?!"

"Yes," the Emperor replied. "And then you must leave..."

Peter frowned. Emperor Morellius looked determined and Boxer edged in so close Peter could feel his heavy breathing displacing his fur. He knew something was amiss here but realised he was already pushing it. He nodded. "Okay."

"Boxer, help him look," Morellius told his courtier. "And have your men look after his little friends. I don't want this to spoil today's events..."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Boxer nodded curtly. "This way, you."

He was talking to Peter. He nudged him sharply from behind. Peter looked at Kurt and the others indignantly as the other courtiers closed in around them. They all looked back just as indignantly, except for Kurt, who looked very sullen.

The courtiers took the others back into the pasture with the masses, but Boxer led Peter beyond Morellius' throne and deeper into the trees. It was part of the same woodland grove that Peter had chased Fox Mulder into earlier. Boxer was taking him back in that direction. Soon the rabbits behind them were too far away to be either seen or heard. Boxer made no effort to converse with Peter. The only sound he made was that continual snorting as he breathed. Peter followed silently.

Eventually they came to a damp rabbit hole beside a mossy, abandoned badger's set. As Boxer approached, two more fierce looking courtiers charged out of the hole to confront Peter, their aggression only assuaged when they found he was in the company of their leader. Boxer muttered something to them both that Peter couldn't make out, then they stood aside to let him through.

Boxer took him down into the tunnels. For the most part it was generic rabbit architecture, warren design being part of a rabbit's genetic make up. However, housing some five or six times as many rabbits as Peter's home warrens, it had many more tunnels. Part of Peter was glad he had Boxer, who obviously knew his way around. Part of him was concerned, however, by the fact that of all the tunnels they passed, not one of them led back to the surface. It was as if there was only one way into this part of the warren, and only one way out...

Soon Peter began to hear chattering up ahead. It was nervous whispering, Peter could tell from the hushed tones and the urgency. They were all female voices. The first female rabbits Boxer led Peter past were all standing in a line in one tunnel, as if queuing to go up to the surface. They fell silent when Boxer appeared and averted their eyes when he looked over them all in passing.

"Any of these your daughter?" he asked Peter wearily.

Peter just shook his head. Boxer proceeded to take him down more tunnels, and by the time his hour was up, and Peter still hadn't found Mopsy, the never-ending queue of female rabbits had started to move up the passages.

"Where are they going?" Peter wondered aloud.

"To the festivities, of course," Boxer replied.

Peter was despondent when Boxer stopped suddenly a few minutes later and announced his hour was up and that they would go no further. This was particularly painful because they were reaching a sharp corner that the queue was shuffling around in silence and Peter just knew Mopsy would be right round the bend. But Boxer wouldn't let him look. He started nudging him back the way they came.

The tunnels were starting to fill up as the female rabbits got stuck in a bottleneck every time one of the passages became narrower or changed direction. However, as Boxer ploughed back through with Peter behind him, they still all moved out of their way. Peter didn't know whether to be bemused or nervous. He just had this sneaking suspicion this wasn't just mass respectfulness...

When he finally came out into the fresh air, Peter realised how hot and stuffy it had been down in the tunnels. Though Boxer didn't stop on his way back to the pasture, Peter hesitated. There were more courtiers along their route. It was almost as if the female rabbits were being herded into the open rather than led...

"Come on," Boxer snapped. "It's time you were leaving."

"I haven't found my daughter yet," Peter reminded him.

"Face it, outsider, you're not going to. She's not here."

Peter hoped he was right. He didn't know quite what was going on here at Roadkill Turnpike, but he was starting to get the distinct impression that things were more sinister than they seemed. It wasn't long before he was proved right.

As they walked under the trees, Peter started to hear the horrific noise that was coming from the open field. At first he thought it was a battle. There were loud squeaks, low growls, deep hollers, and squealing. Peter's heart began to beat faster as he watched the women filing out of the woodland. They all looked petrified. Some were shaking, but they all kept going. The courtiers kept watch. Then Peter realised they were keeping guard. Whatever fate awaited the women beyond the shelter of the trees, there was no escaping it. Then Boxer led him out into the sun.

Peter's eyes were unaccustomed to it. He had to stop and squeeze them shut, but he caught a glimpse of the latest female fronting the queue and forced his eyes to open again. At first he couldn't believe them. He didn't want to believe them. They were watering, but he wouldn't shut them again. Boxer tried to bustle him along again. This was obviously something the Emperor didn't want this outsider to see. But Morellius - as well as Kurt and co - had disappeared now, so see Peter did.

He watched as the female rabbit broke free from the queue and was promptly pounced upon by two or three bucks twice her size. But they weren't capturing her. Two were pinning her down. The other was penetrating her from behind. She looked like she couldn't breathe. Her eyes were pinned shut. Promptly, the first rabbit finished and the second took his place.

Then the next female was urged forward, and then the next. They were all being siphoned off, one by one, to the males awaiting them eagerly in the pasture. Then Boxer shoved him from behind and Peter staggered out into full view of the grassy field that spun out beneath him.

And then the awful truth of the festivities dawned on him. All around him, a thousand rabbits were madly copulating out in the open. This wasn't a battle. It was an orgy. And for those poor females currently being shared around, it was nothing more than a mass rape.

NOTES:
An awkward chapter to conclude, primarily because it deals with a scene that is at once amusing in its imagery but disturbing in its connotations. I don't think it comes off as well as I'd hoped, despite a rewrite of those final descriptive passages. I don't think I conveyed the sheer scale of this hideous spectacle as best I wanted. Still, the rest of the chapter came pretty easily. The idea of women being kept as sex slaves for procreation was cribbed haphazardly from "A Handmaid's Tale" by Margaret Atwood, which I've never read, but I think that is more about infertility than high mortality.

Boxer, incidentally, was named after one of our old cats who used to rear up on her hind legs and 'box' with her forepaws. We renamed her to Bossy, but Boxer was her original name. By now I'm working on the principle that the 'natural borns' have rabbit-style names (often human names, but not always) and the 'captive breds' (i.e. the former pets) all keep the names they were given by their ex-owners.