Jack felt tightness in his belly. He hadn't eaten at all the previous day. He knew it was foolish, really. He was going into battle shortly. It wasn't the fight that scared him. He'd known this was inevitable for some time. It was the gnawing fear that in the face of war, whether in battle, victory or defeat, the rabbits here would turn to him first to lead them. All of a sudden, now that the reality of spilt blood and torn flesh had drifted into perspective, Jack's revolution seemed even more of a fanciful vision than it had when he'd first dreamt about removing Morellius. Jack had heard about three of Peter's companions abandoning the cause because of the futility of it all. The other rabbits had expected Jack to dismiss them as cowards.

But he couldn't.

As he stood on Emperor's Point, looking down toward Roadkill Turnpike and at the last of the nocturnal creatures returning to the warrens, Jack began to hyperventilate. Hyperventilation isn't a condition unique to humans. It can happen to any animal that gets stressed. Usually, though, hyperventilating rabbits get written off as mad or possessed and in certain colonies are either exiled or killed. That was why Jack was glad he was alone as he lay down and buried his mouth and nose in his chest. The blood throbbed inside his head until he blanked out completely, and when he regained consciousness again, Peter Rabbit was standing over him.

"How long have you been there?" he asked, slurred.

"Not long," Peter replied. "I didn't see you collapse."

"I didn't..." Jack began, but then he trailed off. Peter wasn't stupid. He got up and joined Mopsy's father at the crest of Emperor's Point. Together they peered over the edge. There was still no activity below. The hares had no idea what was coming their way. Jack sighed to himself. Peter echoed his sentiments.

"When I was a young buck," Peter began. "I used to hear stories about this place. Mopsy's probably already told you. Rest assured, she never got any of that rubbish from me. After I grew up hearing it, I made a conscious decision to spare my children those nightmares. For all the good it did me..."

Jack listened silently. He didn't look at Peter.

"One of the stories I heard was about the humans catching a skinning a burrow full of rabbits and then making the skins into disguises." He swallowed. "Then somehow they managed to put these disguises on. Don't ask me how. This is why I knew they were always legends. How can a full-grown man put on a rabbit skin, I ask you? Anyway, that's what they did, in this story. Then, for no reason whatsoever, they went into rabbit warrens around the world just to kill rabbits."

Peter paused. Jack thought he'd finished.

"But you know what I used to find most ludicrous about that story?" He snorted with contemptuous laughter. "It was the reaction of the rabbits of Roadkill Turnpike in the story when the disguised humans visited them. They truly believed they were other rabbits attacking them. And then when they learned they were actually humans, they fought back. And this-" his tone became increasingly bitter "-this is the myth of how all this, this Roadkill Turnpike war on man, how all that began. Mistaken identities. What a load of horse shit."

Jack turned to look at him.

"I realised something this morning," Peter announced. "And I just had to tell someone. And Mopsy's nowhere to be found. These legends, they're true, aren't they, Jack? There really was a Roadkill Turnpike war. Hey, I bet there's been a long history of them, right? Except the enemy never was man. Man was something added along the way, by those rabbits that spread the legends. There never were any disguises, were there? The enemy was rabbits all along..."

Jack looked away, over the horizon, nibbling his lip.

"Just how many wars have there been at Roadkill Turnpike, Jack?" Peter persisted. "How many great initiatives dreamt up by even greater statesmen to excuse the slaughter of whole generations of our own kind, huh?"

Jack turned back again, sighed and frowned.

"The last Great War was before the Morellius dynasty," he said after a short while. "So that means seventy six generations ago. Long enough for people to forget what a war means. Long enough for the haze of history to cloud the facts."

Peter chewed his tongue. "And did Morellius the First really come to power because Roadkill Turnpike was built, as well? They say he rose on a wave of popular support because he had a solution to the new population crisis."

Jack snorted derisively. "Yes, that's established fact. Who told you, by the way? Was it those three captive breds from down the road? See what I mean? The lies spread nearly as far as the legends, Pete."

"So it is bullshit, then?"

"Yes, it's bullshit," Jack said sharply. "It's the version of events the Morellius emperors have decided suits them best. History is written by the winners, and all that guff. No, the first Morellius didn't come to power because of Roadkill Turnpike. The fucking turnpike wasn't even built until Morellius the Twelfth!"

"A war," Peter growled.

"Yeah, a war," Jack spat. "Morellius the First won a war. A war he didn't start, a war he didn't fight, but a war he survived. Both sides wiped the other out, and then the survivors fought amongst themselves for what was left. And that was what Morellius and his minions did. That's our glorious history."

Peter nodded sagely. "Rabbits fighting rabbits."

"There's a fantastic irony in here somewhere," Jack continued. "I'm just not too sure I'm in the right mood to appreciate it. Oh, yes, Roadkill Turnpike. How I miss mankind this morning. I really do miss them, Pete. They kept us in check. We couldn't afford a war when they were killing us. Now they've gone again and we've just reverted to how it was before they built the damn thing."

"It's all part of a cycle now..."

"And I'm to blame!" Jack laughed deliriously, but briefly. "I'm the one who started it all. I was so naïve. How could I have been so stupid? I thought I had a grand cause. I thought my crusade had moral justification. I thought I was on the right side for once. I thought there was glory to be had."

Peter sighed. "If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. You're not the only one gunning for a rumble, Jack. It's in our natures."

"That doesn't make it right, though."

"No. But it might make it inevitable."

Jack glared at him. He didn't want him to be right. Then he looked away. He couldn't look Peter in the face. He didn't think he could look any rabbit in the face ever again, let alone lead them into a vicious war.

Beneath them, a couple of hares danced in the morning sun.

"Wars on rabbits, wars on hares," Jack sighed. "There's not really any difference. It'll all end the same way, anyway. Morellius will be destroyed. We will be destroyed. Whoever's left will rise to power."

Peter nodded. "And one day they'll find an enemy to go to war against and then they and their enemy will be destroyed and someone else will replace them all, sure in themselves they'll never make the same mistakes."

"But we always do," Jack sighed.

"We always do," Peter echoed.

They stood in silence for a while.

"So what do we do?" Jack asked.

"You sound desperate," Peter noted.

"I am desperate," Jack told him.

Peter ruminated. "I don't know."

"I can't stop it now," Jack whispered.

"I know you can't," said Peter.

"Oh, maybe I should just fight," Jack said cattily, tossing his ears back and returning grumpily to the spot where he'd collapsed. "Let the cycle play out. At least then we'll take Morellius down with us, eh?"

Peter nodded. After a short pause, he swallowed and said, "There's something else you can do, Jack. And that's part of the reason I chose to find you and tell you my epiphany rather than any of the other revolutionaries."

"What? What is it?"

Peter turned to look him squarely in the face, unblinkingly. "I want you to take Mopsy to one side and tell her to leave this place with me and her uncles."

Jack's face fell. "Pete..."

"This isn't my war," Peter reminded him. "And it certainly isn't Mopsy's. She came here because of those diabolical legends. I don't want her to die because of them. And if you love her like I suspect you do, you won't either."

Jack averted his gaze. "I barely know her."

"Regardless," Peter said. "I know love. Or what you believe is love. I'm not going to make a judgement either way. You're infatuated with her, at least. I know you don't want her to die, even if the cause is sound."

"Pete," Jack began, his eyes welling up.

"Spare your tears," Peter said quickly. "There will be greater calls for them in the near future than your own self-pity. What I'm asking, no, begging of you, is for you to make one further sacrifice. And that's my daughter."

Jack blinked through his tears, set his jaw, nodded.

"Because I think I love her," he said. "I'll do this, Pete."

"I'm sure you do love her," Peter said honestly.

Jack nodded again, composing himself.

"Now, do you know where she is?" Peter asked.

Jack shook his head and looked blankly at him.

"She was already gone when I woke up," Peter explained.

"Has anybody seen her since?" Jack inquired.

"I don't know. Let's go and see, shall we?"

They left Emperor's Point together and walked along the top of the hill until the rabbit holes of their warren came into view perforating the hillside below. There were a few rabbits that kept daylight hours, but none of them had seen Mopsy. They had just got up themselves. Jack thought she might have been seen inside the warren, so he decided to split up from Peter. Peter thought he would have more luck if he found one of his companions. On the one hand, she might be with them, but on the other, they were all keeping the same hours as each other.

Unfortunately, Benjamin was the only one Peter could find.

"There was a young rebel named Jack," sang Benjamin. "Who was meant to lead the attack. But it was all a slaughter. He was boning Pete's daughter, and everyone was dead when he got back..." He laughed to himself.

Peter went right up and bit him on the neck.

"Ow! Why'd you do that for, Pete?!"

"That song!" Peter growled.

"Oh, I didn't make it up," Benjamin quickly said, flustered. "Everybody's singing it. It's very catchy. I can't get it out of my head. There was a young rebel named Jack... Hey, d'you think they mean the Jack here?"

"Well, of course they bloody do!" Peter snapped.

"Oh," said Benjamin. "So the Pete in the song..."

"Yes," Peter growled through his teeth.

"And Pete's daughter..."

"Yes. Is Mopsy."

"Oh. Oh, dear. Sorry, Pete." Benjamin looked very sheepish.

Peter scowled at him, but it was hard to remain angry at such a naïve innocent for too long. Especially when there were more important things. "Now, think, Benjamin, have you seen Mopsy at all today?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Benjamin said quickly.

"Good." Peter was relieved. "Where was it?"

"She was going to see the hares with Tom..."

NOTES:
A short(er, than usual) chapter that came largely out of the blue and took me past the 90,000 word mark. I was going to try and squeeze in a load of convoluted stuff about Mopsy going off to ally with the hares, but it works better with the focus on Jack. I wanted to flesh out his character a bit more, confirm he's a good guy (no more double crosses here) and use him and Peter to really make this approaching war (just a couple of chapters to go now!) seem both apocalyptic, but also almost pre-destined.

I was in an anti-war kind of mood for no good reason during writing (perhaps due to my intolerance of all the fireworks going off outside my window) so I gave this chapter an injection of nihilism. As per usual, I won't apologise for throwing in a bit of humour just before the end-of-chapter cliffhanger, though I'm wary of my humorous asides ending up as just signposts before things take a turn for the worse. In which case, the next chapter should be the funniest of the lot...