Chapter Text
"Hello, Nick's mother." Judy's voice was soft, and seemed to be swallowed up by the gloom of the underbrush. "Sorry, but he never told me your name." With a paw that barely trembled, she reached out and felt the outline of the words carved into the stone. So many of them, and Judy didn't understand a single one. Nick had explained the general idea of the anchor stone, but she had just taken it to be the fox equivalent of a shrine. But to see the bare stone jutting out from the earth in what little moonlight managed to filter through the trees, covered in foreign runes... it seemed almost sinister.
But according to Nick, it anchored his mother's spirit, keeping her safe from whatever horrid afterlife foxes believed themselves doomed to. So she treated it as such, despite her misgivings. "I couldn't ask Nick about the rituals or taboos, so I'm sorry if I do something wrong. We don't have a shrine to the God of Life and Death in our clan, but I'm hoping you could help." She paused, waiting for a response, then felt foolish for doing so. She turned to the cargo she had brought from the burrow - a young, plump hen, wings and legs and beak bound. Her head swiveled wildly from where she lay, watching Judy with one eye and then the other. She continued to address the anchor stone as she watched the worried hen wriggle. "Our gods - rabbit gods - like gifts. I wouldn't know what to decorate your shrine with, so I was hoping that a chicken would do. I know they don't have the same significance for foxes that they do for us, but..." Judy realized she was rambling and shut her mouth.
Without further ado, she knelt down beside the chicken, drawing her knife and placing her free hand on the chicken's head. The hen tried to struggle, but she was far too trussed up to achieve anything. With a quick, practiced motion Judy sliced deeply into the hen's neck just below the jaw, and blood poured out, staining her paws red in an instant. She held the hen down as her struggles increased, and soon she went limp.
Judy rose to her feet and approached the anchor stone once more, and considered it for a moment. Normally there was a bowl, and a branch from a specific tree, but in this circumstance, it felt right to use nothing but her paws. She flicked them and a spray of blood spattered across the stone, barely visible in the near-darkness as black circles against the dark grey of the stone. She considered it for a moment longer, then reached out and pressed a bloody paw against a gap in the carving. "Please," she said simply, before withdrawing her hand and considering the perfect, bloody pawprint she had left on the stone.
Well. That was that. Either it would help, or...
Judy turned, lifted the chicken carcass across her shoulders, then started to make her way back to the burrow.
---
Most of the Hopps clanrabbits had abandoned the beds as soon as they were physically able to, even when it was unwise, and after a week the only two remaining were Nick and Nathan. Judy had spent nearly every waking moment in a chair between the two, watching one and then the other. Nick's wound had been healing well at first before an infection had taken hold, and though the Hopps' herbs had managed to fight it to a standstill, he was ravaged by fever and the few times he regained consciousness, he had rambled in the fox tongue before falling back asleep. Judy had worried that he had forgotten the rabbit language, but Bonnie had reassured her that the fever wasn't severe enough for that. He was probably just too confused to realize what language he was speaking in. And Judy reassured herself that when he caught sight of her, he seemed to recognize her, and his chatterings in the foreign tongue took on a more animated tone. The infection seemed to be fading, and Bonnie, though unsure of fox physiology, seemed confident that he would recover soon.
Nathan was another story. Though by some miracle he had been spared the worst of infection the pink froth had bubbled out of the worst of his wounds when it was fresh was a very bad sign, as was laboured gasping that filled the room. Aside from that was the amount of blood that he had lost. Every couple of hours someone had to try to feed the comatose rabbit chicken liver soup in the hopes that it would help replenish his lost blood, and try not to choke him with it - and when they failed, the pathetic, gasped coughing wrenched at their hearts. And every day the bandages had to be pulled back, the pus wiped away, and a herbal poultice to fight the infection reapplied. Though Nathan's ambition had sometimes - well, often - put him at odds with Judy, she would give anything to have him back to his usual plotting self instead of the limp, gasping figure that he had become.
---
It took Nick a bit of time to realize that he had regained consciousness. His mind was sluggish in a way he was unfortunately familiar with, and it throbbed with pain besides with the headache that almost always seemed to accompany a fever for him. Though the details of what had put him in this situation eluded him, the surface he was lying on was comfortable, there was something soft under his head, and his nose was filled with the familiar scent of dirt and rabbit. So he knew he was safe.
The rest of his body started to wake up, and spurred by hazy memories of a fight, he started testing his extremities to make sure they were all there. His legs were fine, though moving them sent a throb of pain through his stomach. Stomach wounds could be really bad, but if he was still alive, it was probably okay. His right arm was fine too, though his hand ached terribly - he had a brief flash of memory of bringing a sword down over and over until his foe stopped moving, each jarring impact sending pain through his arm. That explained that. But his left arm refused to move, and his left hand felt numb, and he could feel a dampness soaking into the fur-
Worry spurred him into wakefulness and his eyes flew open, immediately filling him with regret as candlelight stabbed into them and filled his head with fresh pain, but he resisted the need to screw his eyes shut again and looked down at himself, terrified that he'd see a mangled mess or a stump where his hand should be. But instead he saw his perfectly intact hand being used as a pillow by a sleeping rabbit, drool soaking a discoloured patch in his fur. Her paws had a tight grip on his, probably spurred by his unknowing attempts to wriggle free. He felt a smile spread across his face as he took in her sleeping face.
"She's barely left your side. Probably wouldn't have at all if she didn't have watch to keep." Nick's gaze flew across the room to his right, where he saw Bonnie sitting in an armchair, a needle and thread in one paw and a ripped tunic in the other. "Are you actually with us this time, or are you still lost in the fever?"
"I'm here." Nick's voice was raspy and weak, and speaking made him realize just how dry his throat was. Bonnie put her sewing aside and rose to her feet with surprising confidence for one so heavily pregnant, and walked over to his side.
"So you are. Welcome back, then." She placed a gentle paw on his head for a moment, then started to check the wound in his stomach, peeling back a wad of fabric. Nick winced at the smell of pus and herbs, but it was far more of the latter than the former, and Bonnie seemed pleased with what she saw. "Most of the infection is gone, and you're healing well. Thought we'd lose you for a while there."
Nick watched curiously as Bonnie replaced the poultice, wincing slightly as her touch sent a fresh stab of pain through his side. "Apart from Judy," he noted, "this is the first time an unarmed rabbit has been this comfortable in my presence."
"I know for a fact you're as weak as a newly-hatched chick right now. Besides that, you've earned my trust, and then some." Bonnie reached out and placed her paw on Nick's. "Whether the Argente had death or thralldom in mind for the kits - for my children and grandchildren - you saved them from that. That's a debt that would take quite a bit of repaying."
"I already owed Judy my life."
"Yes. One life. Now we owe you near two hundred." Nick didn't have a response to that. He watched as she gently probed at his ribs, causing a wound that he had forgotten about to start sending fresh pain through his body. "This cut was fairly shallow, once we staunched the bleeding you were fine healing it yourself."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me, I was busy with Nathan. It was Judy's work that saved your life. It's going to leave you a nasty scar, though. She never was good at stitching." Nick looked again at the rabbit dozing on his arm, and smiled again. This fierce, ambitious little rabbit kept surprising him. "Now that you're awake, you can feed yourself. I'll bring you in something to eat. I think we've still got some chicken soup left."
Nick unconsciously licked his lips at that, and Bonnie smiled as she turned and left the room, leaving Nick to stare thoughtfully at the sleeping Judy.