Peter Rabbit's Arc

Chapter 6 of 13

The clay ridge held through the week, so Peter turned back to his rows. Then a warren mother came running. She had seen a fox by the far edge of the patch, nose down, tracking. The workers stopped digging. If a fox took even one of them, whole rows would go untended, and the crop Peter owed would rot in the ground. He could not lose a single pair of paws before winter. Peter followed the fox tracks to a soft patch of spring grass dotted with blossoms. There the fox stood on two legs, green coat buttoned, tail low. Peter had heard the warren whisper his name. Mr. Todd. The fox who guarded his food stores and told strangers nothing. "You're scaring my workers off my rows," Peter said. His voice shook. Mr. Todd did not turn. "I'm not here for your rabbits." "Then why sniff my patch?" "One of them talked." Mr. Todd looked at Peter now. His eyes were flat. "A rabbit found my stash. I could live with that. Then he told others where it was. I want his name." Peter's ears went cold. He knew the rabbit. A young worker had come to the patch last week bragging about a fox's buried apples. Peter had told him to hush. If he gave the name, Mr. Todd would hunt the worker down, and the warren would scatter in fear. If he refused, the fox would keep circling, and no one would tend the rows. Peter thought fast. "You want the talking to stop," he said. "A name won't do that. Others heard him." Mr. Todd's tail twitched. "Go on." "Move your stash. Tonight. My workers will carry it for you, wherever you say. No one will know the new place but you." Peter stepped closer. "They keep their paws. You keep your secret. And they owe you a quiet mouth for the favor." The fox studied him a long moment. "Rabbits carrying my food. That's a strange trust." "You watch every step," Peter said. "Any rabbit who talks answers to you." Mr. Todd almost smiled. "Have them at the old elm by dark." He turned and walked into the grass. "If one word slips, I come back. And next time I won't ask." That night the warren carried Mr. Todd's stores to a new hollow. The fox watched from the shadows, counting every apple. By moonrise the work was done, and Mr. Todd was gone without a sound. Peter walked home tired but whole. He had kept his workers and bought the fox's peace. Yet the young rabbit who talked still lived in the warren, and now a dozen more knew where a fox hid his winter food. Peter had traded one loose tongue for many. The rows were safe tonight. Keeping that many secrets was another matter.