Peter Rabbit's Arc

Chapter 3 of 13

The paw prints scared Peter awake before dawn. He ran to his patch and found more of them, pressed deep across every row. His rich new soil had drawn the whole warren. He crouched between the seedlings and tried to guard them himself. He watched until his eyes stung. But one rabbit cannot circle a whole patch at once. By noon he saw the truth: alone, he would lose every carrot before winter. He sat in the tall spring grass and put his head in his paws. That was where Clementine Cottontail found him. She lived two burrows over and had known his father. She wore a white apron and a cape thrown loose over her shoulders, and she walked straight up to his rows like she owned them. "You've made a fine mess of good dirt," she said. She toed a paw print. "Half of Oakhollow's been through here. You planning to grow all this by yourself?" "I have to," Peter said. "I owe a basket to the shop by winter. If they don't get it, they close." Clementine looked at the thin green tops, then at the trampled soil. She did not offer comfort. "Every rabbit stealing from you is a rabbit who's hungry," she said. "You can chase them off, or you can put them to work." Peter lifted his head. "They'd only eat what they grow." "Then grow more than they can eat." She knelt and pressed a seedling upright with one finger. "You feed them at harvest, they weed and watch for you now. One rabbit guards nothing. Ten guard everything." Peter thought of the basket he owed. He thought of the fat carrots he needed and the many empty bellies that wanted them. For weeks he had treated the neighbors as thieves. Clementine had turned them into hands. He stood. "Will you help me tell them?" Clementine was already walking toward the burrows. "I'll bring them by dusk," she called. "You mark out the rows. Give each family a stretch to tend. Anyone who works, eats. Anyone who steals, doesn't." By evening they came. A dozen rabbits crossed the grass and stood at the edge of his patch, ears up, unsure. Peter walked the rows and gave each one a share to weed and guard. Clementine stood beside him and named the rules plain. The rabbits who had trampled his soil now knelt in it, pulling weeds. Peter watched them work in the fading light. His patch was no longer his alone. The theft had stopped, and the rows had a dozen keepers now. But as the last light went, Peter counted the mouths bent over his carrots. A dozen families expected a share at harvest. He still owed the shop its full first basket. His crop had many hands to grow it now. It also had many more mouths waiting to be fed.