Mr. And Mrs. Bunn E. Rabitte lived, as all forest rabbits did, in a small hole in the side of a tiny hill, three yards to the left of the center of the woods in Mayflower Valley. They had nine darling little baby bunnies; four beautiful little girl-bunnies and five strapping young boy-bunnies.

The oldest of the nine was Jeremy Rabitte. Jeremy Rabitte used to go out every Wednesday just before tea, and pick ripe red berries off the bushes in the woods, on which he would nibble as he watched the horses run and graze in the valley down below, perched upon a rock at the top of the highest hill. He needn't fear a hawk or an eagle at any time, for such things as hunting and preying did not exist in Mayflower Valley.

Mrs. Rabitte did know, however, that Jeremy always picked berries as he made his way up the hill, and often warned him not to fill up on them, for fear that they should spoil his appetite before the afternoon; for you see, Jeremy did love berries so much.

Thus, Jeremy left the house and started up the hill. He picked berries left and right, greedily stuffing every third berry into his mouth. Soon he'd reached the rock, and was sitting upon it, gaily observing the magnificent beasts that freckled the green meadow in brown, olive, and white. Oh, joy! he thought to himself, plopping a bright red berry into his hungry maw. Such a lovely day to sit upon this rock, with not a care in the world! Nothing to do but- No sooner had he begun a new sentence in his mind, did a sound alert him from among the brush beneath the rock. Leaning over the edge, Jeremy moved the leaves aside with his gentle grey forepaws. He was completely taken aback at the sight of his little brother Edward.

"Oh, please, Jeremy! Please, don't be cross. I only wanted to see where it is and what it is you do every Wednesday morning, just before tea!" cried Little Edward Rabitte.

Jeremy grinned sharply, his ears straight up, as his mind raced, carrying a thought that had suddenly appeared in his little bunny-brain. "Did you pick any berries?" he asked Little Edward.

"Oh, dear me, yes!" the young one whined pathetically. "And I am completely full! I cannot eat another one! Please don't tell Mummy, Jeremy, pleeeaaase!"

Jeremy's immediate response was to pat Little Edward on his furry head and say, "Don't worry, Little Brother, I promise you I shan't." Quickly the little thought came again, punching him proverbilbly in the nose. "If you promise to give me two dozen berries," he added. The Thought grinned to itself.

Now, Little Edward was so panic stricken at this point that he'd totally forgotten he was still in the brush, and was so close to tears, that he'd stopped thinking almost completely. Quick to get himself out of trouble he sobbed a whiny "Yes..." and so brought a terrible doom upon many.

At first, neither of the two parties involved thought anything of this incident. But soon the day came that Jeremy Rabitte was told by his Father to take out the rubbish that had collected in his messy room. At that precise moment Jeremy didn't feel like cleaning up his room, because he was so interested in a pebble he had found around the corner. So he asked Little Edward to clean his room for him.

"But Father told you to, Jeremy," his little brother replied, unaware of Jeremy's pet Thought, that had slithered from around his brain, and was now coiled around Jeremy's fuzzy neck, staring over the young lad's shoulder.

"I still think you should, Edward. I'm much more interested in this little pebble I found. Why don't you clean my room for me?"

Edward still didn't catch on. The Thought hissed once at his words. "But Jeremy, I don't wa-"

"Need I remind you of an incident one bright Wednesday morning? When one of us, needless to say which one, disobeyed our dearly beloved Mother?"

Little Edward's young and still forming mind began to realize what was being said.

Jeremy nodded. "Yes, and need I remind you that that same little bunny spoiled his appetite-not to mention teeth-on many many berries, which he should not have been eating at all in the first place?"

Little Edward gulped. "But- but- but you also eat berries all the time!"

"Ah," replied Jeremy, adopting his 'I-know-what-you're-thinking-but-I-know-better-than-you' pose. "That is the difference between you and me. I have au-thooo-ritt-ee."

And Little Edward cleaned Jeremy's horribly mess room.

Twice.

Within one week!

Soon the Thought was growing quite big for its age, and Jeremy had to feed it more and more. It could no longer risk it with just Edward. It had to have more, and just one source was too dangerous; it feared that Jeremy would push him too far, and then it would have to find a whole new home, and start all over again. So it began watching for Jeremy's other brothers and sisters.

One morning Jeremy came out of his room and went straight into the kitchen. Seeing the mess there, he stopped dead in his tracks, and his paw flew to his mouth. His sister Sara was standing next to the dining table, pieces of shattered china all around her. She stared at him through tearing eyes.

Thought woke up, a familiar scent tugging at its nostrils. "Sara, Sara, Sara," Jeremy said, shaking his head from side to side, a horrible smile on his face.

Sara's tail was shaking, her ears were quivering. "Jeremy... please..." she said weakly.

He took the blame for it. The hiding was a hard one, but it was berries galore for the next three weeks after that.

Soon the holidays were over, and all the good little animals had to go back to school. They all went to a clearing in the forest where Franklin Owle gave lessons. There were lessons in herb gathering, tree climbing, flying-for those of fowl persuasion-and all that is normally taught in school. Jeremy made many friends at school. And Thought began to procreate.

At lunchtime, during recess, Mrs. Dier would serve them soup and vegetables, so that they could all grow big and strong. All the little cubs would sit down around the edge of the clearing and nibble on their respective delicacies.

One fine meal, Jeremy noticed something peculiar, which instantly caused his well cultivated pet to nudge him to attention. Jeremy polished off his delicious soup, handed in his plate, and strode over to Charles Mhole. "Charles, hello," he greeted the underground creature.

Charles glanced up through his enormous spectacles.

"I'm sorry," Jeremy said, "perhaps you don't recognize me. I've grown quite a lot over the holidays. It's me; Jeremy Rabitte."

Charles just kept looking at him, his tiny eyes blinking, his huge heavy head swinging slightly from side to side. His breathing was heavy and sniffling.

"Now, Charles, my dearest friend," As Jeremy said this he sat down and put a paw around Charles' shoulders. "You may not have noticed- nay, you may have intentionally done so by accident, but I do believe that that is your second portion this afternoon."

Charles didn't answer, he just blinked.

Jeremy felt a bite from his pet. He soothed it to be still. "No need to say anything, Charles. I am absolutely sure that you will go confess to Mr. Owle immediately. I have full confidence in your honesty and good-will towards your wildlife peers."

Charles lowered his head, leaning his chin on his chest, and stared sheepishly at the ground.

"Ah. I see. Then you are not as proud as you thought you were. Never mind-I see you put faith in me that I will go and tell Mr. Owle, and that, I'm sure, is what you want, for you are an honest and respectable creature after all, worthy of the proud name of the family Mhole. Am I right?"

Charles looked up sharply, his breathing grew slightly heavier.

"I am not right?" Jeremy made a face of surprise, then lowered his voice. "You do not wish to tell Mr. Owle? And you do not wish for me to tell, either? Now, then Charles, old boy, we can't have this business going around, can we? It is improper."

Charles' eyes pleaded.

"Oh, very well," Jeremy said dismissively. "At a price, of course," he soon added.

Charles stared through his head.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe... Of course! Four weeks of home assingments in Herb Gathering and Odour Recognition. Yes, that's it!"

Not a word passed between them since, but Thought dined well.

It continued. By the next month, Jeremy had grown to become a dark hearted creature, his pink eyes blazing with a blue flame that none of his schoolmates could see, but that the Thought enjoyed tremendously. It had considered naming itself God, but decided that that would be too pretentious and called itself Concept instead. It was now a hundredfold longer than any emotion living in Jeremy's mammalian chambers. And they all worshipped it.

Just as they all worshipped Jeremy. Concept was Jeremy. Jeremy was Concept. And those few whom he had let within his circle of what can only be called friendship when one has no other name to give it, regarded him as their savior. They enforced his horrible rule. They threatened those who dared defy him. And it was still only the beginning. He could see his future. It lay beyond the edge of the clearing. Soon he could come out of hiding. Already he was showing signs of anxiousness, and Concept was thrilled with the idea. And now it was preparing for the final test.

Now Jeremy was no longer that healthy, headstrong rabbit he'd once been. And yet, none seemed to notice his bulging stomach, his thick neck, his drooping ears and straggly tail. He was dismissed as just another sloppy adolescent herbivore. Until they discovered the dead pig.

They found the swine lying on its side, its head staring at its rear end, seperated from its neck by the length of its body. It was also gutted, and red fluid gushed out across the mossy ground, turning it a dark crimson-brown. The grass around it had turned pale and receded. It lay on bare earth.

No-one really understood the situation. To them, this was not death. This was nothing anyone could put into words. Mayflower Valley had never actually seen blood. No predators existed. Anywhere. For as far as any of the oldest ancestors of the most ancient families ever told their offspring, no such thing as prey had ever been seen before. Even old Mr. Owle was not predatorial. He'd been around since the dawn of time, more a creation of someone's imagination, than actually born from a mother owl. No-one understood death this way. It was something that happened to the old, honourably. Gutting was unheard of. At first they weren't even sure the pig was dead.

Jeremy stepped forward proudly, his back hunched, his eyes narrowed; his pace slow, and his guard around him. "Oh, dear me.

"You bet your toasted rump, that pork is microwave meat." Nobody really understood most of the words he was saying. Some of them were unclear even to him. But all were perfectly understood by Go- Concept. "And I'm sure my goons Bouncer, Thumper and Claws would be glad to protect anyone from this ever happening again..."

All the animals looked hopeful. Mr. Bunn E. Rabitte glanced around proudly, saying, "That's my boy, that is. Always glad to lend a hand. Is how I raised him, that is."

"...for a price," Jeremy concluded.

A quiet more dead than the swine in front of them silenced the crowd.

We will need a new Law, for this kind of thing, they later said. This will not be tolerated! they shouted at the Meeting. We cannot allow this! The Monster must be banished!

When Jeremy Rabitte was exiled from the valley, his heart was completely charred and crippled. He had threatened his idiotic rabbit guard that he would sic them one on the other should they dare follow him out of the valley. Concept was happy. Content. It had sown its seed.

In Mayflower Valley the first viper appeared in the woods. It killed five rabbits and three mice before anyone realized it wasn't 'just being friendly'.

In Fern Forest, a fat, droopy eared rabbit stumbled into a clearing, begging for food. Everyone thought he was just one of those visitors from the neighbouring community.