Peter Rabbit's Arc

Chapter 10 of 13

The truce held, but the new ground made it worse. Peter now farmed two patches, the old rows and Mr. Todd's cleared field, and a dozen families could not watch both at once. He walked the fence at dawn and counted the gaps. Too many. A hungry raider could slip through while every rabbit hoed on the far side. He had seen the fresh scrapes under the hedge. Something had already tested the line. He went to the village grocery for help. The shop sat under its gingerbread trim, jars of pickles stacked in the windows, baskets of vegetables crowding the door. Peter needed the shop to survive as much as it needed his basket. He pushed inside and found Ginger behind the counter in his green coat, wiping a jar with a cloth. "Your patch is too big to guard," Peter said. "Twelve families, two fields. I can't cover every row." Ginger set the jar down. "Then stop guarding rows. Guard the gaps." He tapped the counter. "You know where a raider gets in. You told me once you know every hole in a fence." Peter did. He knew McGregor's fence by heart. He knew his own worse. "I've been watching the whole line," he said. "I should watch the doors." "Fewer eyes, better placed," Ginger said. "A fence is only as weak as its holes." Peter ran home. He walked both patches slowly and marked each gap with a stone. He found seven. Then he pulled the families off the open rows. He posted two rabbits at each broken spot, hidden in the hedge, and left the middle rows unwatched. It felt wrong to leave the carrots bare. But nothing crossed the middle. Everything crossed the edges. That night he waited at the widest gap with three others. The moon rose. Near midnight a shape pushed through the hedge below them, a lean rabbit from beyond the warren, ribs showing, nose down for the carrot tops. Peter did not shout. He let the stranger step fully inside. Then the four of them rose together and blocked the gap behind him. The raider froze, trapped between them and the rows. "I only wanted to eat," he said. Peter kept his voice low. "Then work. Tend a row and take a share, same as the rest. Steal, and you'll find every hole plugged and nowhere to run." The stranger looked at the ring of rabbits. He nodded. By morning Peter had a new worker and a guarded fence. Seven gaps, seven posts, no more open line. He walked the rows in the gray light and found them untouched. The crop was safe. But he counted the mouths again as he walked. Thirteen families now, not twelve. Another share promised. His four baskets had not grown. Every hungry rabbit he turned into a worker was one more rabbit waiting to be fed.