The bright sunshine of an early summer’s evening slowly gave way to the darkness of the night as clouds came to signify the end of another day over the green country of Denia.  Tall trees filtered the light into a dappled pattern on the ground, and gentle winds blew small seeds through the air to gentle resting places upon the floors of Denia’s various forests, cities, towns, and villages.  To the untrained eye, the land was a scene of tranquillity and bliss.  Not all was to remain at peace, however, as the coastal city of Invercnofil was soon to play host to a party of over excited and boisterous sea rats.  Their large wooden boat sailed at great speed past the small island of Tsinion’s Point, making a steady and straight line for the harbour in the centre of Invercnofil’s industrial district.

Swords clashed with celebrations of no less than three score hungry vermin, and they were more than ready to party.  It was a well known story in the cities around the mouth of the River Brock that a sea rat’s idea of a party was raiding and looting, and to those approaching the harbour of Invercnofil, that point of landing seemed like the best place to start.

Stepping out onto the deck of the boat came an important looking rat.  He was larger than the others, and wore clothes that looked so fine that they put the simple cotton rags of his crew mates to shame.  He carried a large whip in his belt, and his paws rested on his hips close enough to grab at its handle at a moment's notice.  The other rats moved aside the moment they spotted him, and any rats too slow found the tip of his weapon curling with a sharp crack around their ears.  Striding to a position where he could see the oncoming dock, the rat smiled a wide and vengeful smile.  His filthy teeth would have glistened in the early evening light if they had been clean, and the frills and finery of his clothes were just as dirty upon closer inspection.  Growling a little under his breath, the rat nodded his pleasure to the rat at the helm and retired to below deck.  With a loud instruction, the helmsman organised the army to go through the procedure to bring the boat ashore.

The harbour master had little time to evacuate his domain when the boat of rats arrived.  Their vessel crashed into the jetties, and knocked smaller craft aside.  The rats showed little sign of caring as they laid out their lines and set to work jumping off their craft and securing it to dry land.  Loud protests from the harbour master were ignored, and soon the portly hedgehog was forced back onto the road separating his workplace and the warehouses of the industrial neighbourhood.

Yelling with glee, the rats lowered the gang plank when everything was secured.  They then waited for their leader to come and give them permission to leave the boat and enjoy the city.  As soon as he was assured they had landed, the lead rat returned to the deck and swept up to the gangway.  Taking a moment to convince himself that things were in order, the rat gave a nod and stood back, unleashing a torrent of hollering and movement upon the unsuspecting city.  Once his last minion had vanished from sight, the onyx-furred lead rat walked down the gangplank at a leisurely pace.  The night was still young, and there was plenty of time for his rats to hit the bars and taverns.  Once they had gotten drunk, the real fun would begin, and once that had started, there would be another city that would cower at the sound of his name.  Taking a moment to breathe in the refreshing evening air, the leader of the rat pack strode into the heart of the city with a confident smile on his lips and a spring in his step.  There was a new name in town now, and that name was Dingo.

***

The evening’s sun was waning as the sound of many feet tramping across the warmed grass of Brightwind Plains filled the air.  At the front of the group marched a jackrabbit dressed in fine blue military clothes with gold and brass buttons and details.  He led the gathering of hares and rabbits behind him with short shouts of left and right, keeping them all in time.  

The long abandoned burrows of Brightwind Plains had been the location Commander Fàilligeadh had been seeking for a great many days.  The army had been forced from their home in a great battle, losing no less than half their numbers and the life of their great leader.  In a moment of desperation, the jackrabbit known as Fàilligeadh took command and led the survivors out of their kingdom and to safety.

Their march had taken them all over the county of Brokkenshire, including an unexpected and accidental detour to the southern village of Tobbac, where they enjoyed the entertainment of the End of Winter Party as well and lent the remnants of their marching band to aid the celebratory proceedings.  The unscheduled stop allowed them to also locate the plains thanks to the village records and charts

The sight of the disused burrows filled the hearts of the tired lapins with hope as they closed in upon their new home.  Their previous home might have been a castle, but a warren to call their own sounded like the best thing in the world right now.  Breaking ranks, the flock of bunnies charged towards their new home with a yell of happiness, only stopping when they reached the main entrance.  None of the army members were foolish to enter before their commander had.

Commander Fàilligeadh took his time in getting to the burrow.  He knew they had been marching for most of a season, but now it was spring and they had found their new home, things could start getting settled and back to normal.  Whatever normal might be.  One thing he did know was that some changes were going to have to be made to the warren.  There were a good few hares in the group, himself included, and they would not be too impressed with having to spend all their down time under the ground in dirty tunnels.  That certainly would not be good for morale.  He shook the thought from his mind and decided to focus on the task in hand, opening the burrow to his army.

He bounded up to the group of no less than two score and ten fighting creatures.  They all looked at him, with expectant expressions on their faces.  Their noses bouncing up and down at a thousand times a second with excitement.  Their commander, however, was not just going to let them go crashing in.  There might still be dirty work to do.

“My friends and followers,” he bellowed.  He had become quite used to making speeches since becoming commander.  He had been quite shy before.  “Before us stands our new home.  However, it has been abandoned for a good long while, and therefore might have become rife with parasites or dangerous squatters.  There is also the possibility that the remains of the previous inhabitants may still be laying around.  I will not declare this our new home until it has been thoroughly cleaned from top to bottom.  Every inch of every corridor, tunnel, room, or hall.  We can take no chances, especially as we have no idea of what really killed off the original owners of this place.  I am aware the rumours say starvation due to bad management and planning, but disease might have also played a part.  I do not want that fate befalling any of us.  Understood?”

The assembled rabbits and hares acknowledged that they did indeed understand.  Sectioning themselves out, the army arranged into small teams, and upon instruction from their leader, each team went into the burrows and sort and clean the place out.  Fàilligeadh and nine others stayed outside and started to prepare the evening meal while there was still some daylight remaining.

It was during the cooking period that a lone duck made an ungraceful landing nearby.  Dusting himself down, he waddled over to the chefs and looked over at the cooking pot.  It was still empty.  Tutting the duck made his way over to the creature he deemed most important looking, singling out Fàilligeadh in a heartbeat.

“I can sell you the location of a well if you want to fill your pot,” he offered.  He was polite and well spoken, for a duck, but the hint of rouge in his voice betrayed his true nature.  Commander Fàilligeadh, however, was well acquainted with ducks and their ways.

“I’ll sell you a story if you want the latest,” the hare replied.

“Trade?”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Fàilligeadh sighed, hiding his pleasure at having gotten around paying the bird.  “Since you’re the trickier of us, you can give your info first.”  The duck agreed, and soon a pair of rabbits were hopping off to the given location with a couple of small pails.  Dragging a host of possessions around the county suddenly made a lot more sense than when they were on the move.  When they had come back with water, Fàilligeadh upheld his end of the trade.

“You can spread the news far and wide, Commander Fàilligeadh is heading up an army, over two score and ten strong.  When we’re rested and the youngest are trained, we’ll be back to take back from the king what he took from us.  Every last piece of it.  He wanted a war, and now he’s got one.  He might have won the first battle, but I’ll see his head on a spike, if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”