Dedicated to all the soldiers who have died in any war America has fought in. God rest your souls...

Time Setting: April 25th, 2017

The April sun was so beautiful, Judy Hopps thought, as she peered out the window of the lunchroom in the Zootopia Police Department (or ZPD for short); her violet eyes shimmering in wonder. Ever since the beginning of spring, gorgeous weather was the order of the day. The warm rays of the sun had finally eradicated the last flakes of snow from the ground in the areas outside the climate-controlled city of Zootopia, and now the plant life was beginning to slowly raise its head and flourish once more, thriving in the golden rays.

The officers at the ZPD, tigers, cheetahs, elephants and more, all ate in this massive lunchroom every single work day. The large, square room was equipped with every type of food available for every type of animal: bugmeal of various arrangements, vegetables, baked goods, berries, nuts—pretty much anything an animal could eat was served by the ZPD's massive horse chef, Officer Hayneman. The old horse didn't talk much, and some even said that he had once been a famous star on TV. But when he did speak, he never said much of anything about his past, articulating in his monotone voice that he didn't really want to think about his slightly crazy donkey co-host.

The small rodents on the force were privileged to have a second level for dining all to themselves, accessed by a series of tiny, mouse-sized elevators that led to a large suspended platform. From up there, it was not uncommon for some mouse or rat to yell out an order or toss an insult the way of some of the bigger animals by leaning over the edge and shouting past the tiny railing. Fortunately, the usual noise of the larger animals eating below often kept them from being heard.

Animals larger than tiny rodents sat at tables across the ground level, with the smaller mammals, like Judy, sitting underneath the larger animals' tables, illuminated by small fluorescent lights hanging from underneath. This was a new feature put in within the last couple of months as part of Mayor Lionheart's reforms to the ZPD after the infamous Bellwether Conspiracy, as a way of ensuring that small mammals were officially catered to. However, since there weren't very many animals Judy's size on the force, these tables usually went unoccupied.

It was under one of these tables that Judy and her foxy friend, Nick Wilde, now sat, eyeing their respective lunches with hungry looks.

After Judy blessed the food, Nick immediately took a bite of his bugburger.

"Why do those little punks in Little Rodentia find it hilarious to run over my tail with their miniaturized Stingray?" Nick asked, shifting the subject of conversation to a pair of particularly annoying gerbils who had been bugging Nick all morning when he and Judy were on traffic patrol.

"Nick, why do you let those guys bother you?" Judy asked as she fingered one of her carrots. "They already said running over your tail was an accident."

"Just like the way it was an accident that they hotwired the engine on our car?" Nick asked. "Or how about slashing our tires?"

Judy had to admit, Nick had a point.

"Goes with what I've already established," he said as he took another bite. "Teenage animals with sports cars are absolute punks."

Judy nodded, her memories of the teenage gerbils confirming Nick's assertions.

"Got it," she said as she took a large chomp out of one of her carrots. "I'll talk to Director Brie and let her know to keep her officers on alert for two juvies driving a red Akhorne Stingray."

Nick put his paws together like his was praying and nodded to his little friend.

"You are a saint, Carrots," he expressed.

Judy chuckled as she took a sip of water from a plastic Pawland Springs water bottle.

There she was doing it again. Nick always loved it when he saw his Carrots happy and laughing. Her violet eyes shimmered with an intelligent glow and her rabbit ears twitched as she laughed, and she tended to tap her paw on the ground whenever she laughed, as well. Her gray fur looked quite pretty in the light underneath the fluorescent bulbs, he thought, and her little nose and whiskers also twitched like they had minds of their own.

Over the past couple of weeks, Nick had been thinking a bit more seriously about his relationship with Judy. For what seemed like an eternity, he had been concerned about the whole situation, thinking that he and Judy were only ever going to be friends. After all, Nick was a fox, a predator, and Judy was a rabbit, a prey animal. More than that, she was the traditional animal his species would eat. He was perfectly contented previously to have her solely as a friend.

But in light of some new information, Nick had indeed discovered that his feelings were a lot less complicated than he had previously thought.

"Nick?" Judy called out as she waved a paw in front of his face.

"Huh? What?" he asked, snapping out of the daze he found himself in.

"Your elbow is in your bugburger," Judy explained, indicating that Nick's arm was now in the center of his plate.

Nick felt his face redden as he stared down at his food, the fur on his elbow now covered in warm, gushy pieces of insect protein.

"I guess I dozed off for a second," Nick joked as he wiped off his arm with a paper napkin.

Judy was about to say something else when her phone rang, playing a few bars from a rather irritating song that had been making its rounds on the internet over the past few weeks.

"Do you seriously have the Hamsterdance song on your phone?" Nick asked, facepalming.

"I accidentally set it as my ringtone the other day," Judy explained. "I got shampoo in my eyes in the shower and I couldn't see very well."

"You play music on your phone in the shower?"

Judy shrugged.

"As long as I keep it away from the water," she rationalized, "there's no issue."

Nick shook his head, incredulous at his friend's strange and quirky ideas. That was one of the things he loved about Judy: she was always thinking of new ways to do things.

Looking at the call, Judy identified the caller: "It's my mom."

She answered and began to chat.

"Hi, mom," she said into the phone, giving her usual cheery greeting. As Nick continued eating (picking his red fox hairs out of his squished bugburger as he did so), he half-listened to Judy's dialogue with her mother, and continued to think about his relationship with Judy. He couldn't deny the feelings in his heart about her, nor could he deny the information he had discovered at the Zootopian Public Library, nor could he deny the work of Manedel, the great geneticist of the 18th century. He knew he had to make sure to confirm he was really thinking rationally, and to make sure that Judy really liked him as more than just a co-worker and friend.

Then he looked at Judy's face again and noticed her eyes were wide, tinged with a veneer of worry.

"Are you sure?" she asked into the phone, and the tone of her voice was obviously greatly distressed. It was here that she began to pepper her mother with questions: "When did this happen? How did this happen? Should I come out to see you? How much longer does he have?"

After getting answers to these questions, Judy thanked her mother, bid her farewell and immediately began frantically packing up her things, her eyes wide with worry.

"What are you doing?" Nick asked, with a mouth full of bugmeal.

"I have to go talk with Chief Bogo!" Judy cried as she grabbed up her phone and made a mad dash for Chief Bogo's office on the second floor. "I don't have time to explain!"

As Nick watched his friend recede, he got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn't going to be spending more time with Carrots in the way he had originally hoped.

Digging out his own phone, Nick made a call to someone he knew would be able to give them a free ride.

"Hey, Finnick?" Nick spoke into the phone. "Can you get your van running? Come pick us up in front of the ZPD building."


*                *                  *

After Finnick F. Foxe, Nick's grouchy brother-from-another-mother who drove around in a beat-up Chevrollama van, picked him up in front of the ZPD building, Judy hopped into the back and quickly slipped into the seat, buckling herself in. Nick did the same, although not quite as quickly as his friend.

"Where to, Nicky?" Finnick asked Nick.

Nick was about to answer when Judy cut him off.

"Bunnyburrow," she called out. "Take us to Bunnyburrow—fast."

At first, Finnick cast Nick a suspicious glance, but Nick was already facing Judy, looking for an answer.

"Carrots, what's going on?" he asked, concerned.

"You know my great-grandfather Otto Hopps?" she asked.

Nick nodded, and she explained: "My mom called and she said he's sick."

Finnick seemed unsympathetic. "Send the old coot a get-well card!"

Nick shot his little grouchy friend a look. Even with a surprise call like this one, that kind of talk wasn't necessary. Without a word, the grumpy little fennec fox kicked his grungy van into gear and began to drive toward the highway.

Judy didn't think that Finnick's attitude was warranted, either, as she explained the reason for the rush:

"My great-grandpa is dying, OK?" she said quietly.

Talk about a bombshell. Nick turned towards her, wide-eyed, ears twitching, muzzle contorted in utter shock. Even though Finnick had his eyes on the road, Nick could tell he was equally shocked and dismayed with himself.

"Your great-grandfather's dying?" Nick breathed.

Judy nodded solemnly.

"He's come down with some disease called myxomatosis," she explained. "It's something transmitted by mosquitoes. Apparently, Pop-Pop—that's what we call him—was fishing in a swamp just up near Lake Cuniculus with Cotton and a few other siblings of mine, and he was bitten. It was terribly sudden, and... there's no cure. Mom says he doesn't have a whole lot of time left. Maybe a week at most."

For the longest time, Nick couldn't say anything. The only thing that crossed his mind was the death of his own father, several years ago. Like Pop-Pop's situation, it was extremely sudden. One day, his dad was around and the next he was at the bottom of the Mongoose River at the docks in Bayou Bay.

This wasn't the first time Judy had talked about her Pop-Pop. Judy had gone on and on and on about him throughout the time she had been working with Nick—from how he was a war hero, to how he was the oldest living rabbit in Bunnyburrow (at age 102), to how he used to tell her stories when she was just a little bunny. She loved her great-grandfather dearly it was pretty obvious she was distraught about the thought of losing him.

All Nick could think about as Finnick drove on the highway to Bunnyburrow was what Carrots would do if anything happened to her beloved Pop-Pop. He wasn't sure how she would react. And that made him all the more nervous.

Even as Finnick switched on the radio and the familiar words of a Matthew Woof song began to play, Nick still sat in utter shock.

* * *  

Within just two hours, the little van drove past the "Welcome to Bunnyburrow—Don't Panic" sign that dominated the road outside of the quaint little town.

As soon as Nick saw the town of Bunnyburrow under the gorgeously bright sun, he felt slightly insulted by how picturesque it looked, considering the somber nature of their visit.

The rolling hills, massive oak trees and bright Easter-egg colored buildings looked utterly breathtaking in the mid-day sun. The round-y, rabbit-y hill-dugout buildings looked exactly as Nick remembered them from his visit last Christmas, except without the snow. From Hubbard's Bait and Tackle Shop to Mitchell's General Store, to the massive bronze statue of Mr. Peter Potter (the first mayor of the town) everything looked the same. Now the vibrant pinks and yellow and blues and reds were added to the luscious rich green grass that rolled like whitecaps on the sea over the little hills of the Burrows. Stores and warrens lined the main, curving roads of the little town, arranged straight into the sides of these little hills, little ear-shaped roof-liners and Easter-egg colors shining brightly in the sunlight. Cars and beat-up old farm trucks idled around the large, circular main road as slow as could be. Everywhere he looked, Nick could see rabbits wandering the sidewalks, visiting with each other, carrying their little baby rabbits in their arms, carrying food, and so on.

It was obvious that in spring, Bunnyburrow was just as full of life as it was in winter.

As Finnick drove up to the edge of Main Street, he parked the van in front of what appeared to be a police station. Set in the front of a small courthouse inside a large-ish hill, two massive carrot-shaped columns, (and a small garage off to the right side) made it appear as though it actually was an occupied hill. The rounded roof, with rabbit ears, loomed over the twin oak doors that allowed access to the interior, casting a shadow over the twin vaguely-ice-cream-blob-shaped sconces that did their best to try to keep the dark at bay. Decorated in dark green and pink, the courthouse look slightly more imperious and like a government building. The only other building that looked even remotely intimidating was the town hall, one of only two buildings wholly above ground in the entire town. A large, polished brass plate above the doors shone in the sunlight, engraved with large bold letters that read "Bunnyburrow Courthouse; Bunnyburrow, AN; G.A. Hopps, Sheriff."

Nick took no notice of the sign or of the courthouse as he, Judy and Finnick disembarked from the van.

"So, Carrots," Nick asked, watching as Judy hopped out of the back seat.

As Judy recomposed her fur (which had become rather mussed up), she explained.

"I'm going to call my mom," she said, her nose twitching in nervousness. "She needs to know I'm back in town!"

With that, she dashed over to a bright, Easter-egg-pink phone booth. (In truth, it jogged Nick's memories of campy, 1960s-era Dogtor Who shows he watched in college.) Nick could tell that she was silently praying that she was not too late to see her great-grandfather again.

While they waited, Finnick and Nick passed the time by chatting about all the recent events in their lives. Finnick's topics included his van, his girlfriend Celia, and new albums by KL, Andy Fineo and Lecrayfish. Maybe he actually never left the subject of his girlfriend.

All this talk about that kind of thing made Nick's mind wander to the subject of his relationship with Judy. While he had indeed been thinking about the two of them, he was still unsure of whether or not they were actually serious about each other. He couldn't deny his feelings for her, but he had always thought it was quite a stretch. A fox loving a rabbit?

To add to his angst, Judy didn't even seem to notice or share his feelings. That is, she didn't seem to do either on the surface. However, if there was one thing Nick had learned from her over the past few months, it was this: female mammals were usually not inclined to share their deepest, most secret emotions with much of anyone. Therefore, it was hard to determine one way or the other.

A knock on the window and Finnick's annoyed voice snapped Nick's mind back to the present.

"Excuse me, sir?" said a kindly voice with a distinct Southern Burrows drawl. It reminded Nick of Gideon Grey, Judy's one-time enemy-turned-friend. However, when he caught a glimpse of the middle-aged rabbit outside his window, he knew that it was most certainly not the pudgy, bad-furred fox that served delicious blueberry pie.

"I'm sorry to say this, sir," the middle-aged rabbit said in a calm, casual tone, "but you've parked a bit too close to the fire hydrant."

The old rabbit had graying fur and wore a tan-and-grey uniform, like a state trooper, almost. He was tall and lean with a fatherly nature, a wide smile, and kindly blue eyes. Unlike a typical cop, he looked slightly less formal, with no clipped tie and no utility belt. No walkie-talkie or gun hung from his belt. All he wore on his uniform was a single six-pointed star badge, denoting his rank as an officer. He seemed like the type of animal who was not particularly busy, the kind of animal who was able to take long walks or take his children fishing whenever there was no police business to attend to. He seemed very laid-back and relaxed, not high-strung like some cops were when on the job.

"So what if I parked near the hydrant?" Finnick growled, in his usual surly manner.

The old rabbit explained, his intelligence conveyed in a somewhat folksy manner of speaking.

"Well," he began, "if you park in front of the fire hydrant, then Gilly Haresfoot—he's the chief of the fire department—won't be able to get to it if there's a fire. He'll have to go all the way over to Trail Street just to hook up a hose. By then the fire might have gotten out of control, and then where would he be? Now, I suppose I can let this go at a warning if you just move your van."

"Who says, fool?" Finnick growled.

Nick shot him a warning look.

"I'm the sheriff in town," the rabbit said quickly, "and unless you'd rather suffer a parking ticket, I can just let it go this time."

As if to warn the two, he quickly dug a small notepad out of his pocket.

Finnick glared at the old rabbit and moved the van a couple car lengths away from the bright yellow hydrant. Even though his friend was obedient, Nick could tell that he wasn't that happy about doing as the sheriff asked.

As soon as Finnick repositioned the van, the two of them disembarked and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Flower-shaped brown-and-grey pavers covered a low bed of gravel and made it appear as if the entire sidewalk was some sort of giant flowerbed. It was so strangely realistic that Nick thought in some distant corner of his mind that he had somehow been shrunk, like something out of that book, Gullifur's Travels.

The old rabbit extended his paw and Nick shook it.

"Sorry to barge in on you two like that," he apologized. "I didn't want to give you any sort of negative impression. I'm Griffin, the sheriff in Bunnyburrow."

From behind him, a super-pleased voice called out "Unc-Unc!"

Griffin turned around and gave Judy a strong, tight hug.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be meeting under better circumstances," Judy said, "but I haven't seen you since Christmas!"

Letting go of the smiling sheriff, Judy introduced him to her friends.

"Nick, Finnick, this is Uncle Griffin," she explained.

Nick nodded. Finnick averted his surly gaze.

"Unc-Unc," Judy told her uncle, "I already called mom, and she said they're expecting us at the warren."

Griffin nodded solemnly. "Pop-Pop's resting at the warren," he explained. "He couldn't walk earlier today, so the doctors just made a house call."

With that, Griffin led the others over to the open garage, where an old, yet still reasonably clean 1950s-era police cruiser was parked. Its long black and white sides were emblazoned with the same insignia on Griffin's badge. An obscenely roundish siren light capped the old car's roof. Nick noticed that, in addition to missing one of its headlights, the car was also missing a couple hubcaps and, unless his sharp fox eyes were mistaken, Nick thought he saw a bullet hole in the right front door. Even though Bunnyburrow wasn't the big, dangerous city of Zootopia, it was clear that occasionally there was some kind of action.

"Sorry if it smells a little bit," Griffin apologized as they slipped into the car, "but my partner—he's off today—accidentally spilled the motor oil on the carpet while he was servicing the engine."

Finnick obviously smelled the awful scent of motor oil, for he quickly clasped both paws over his nose as he hopped into the car.

***

After a twenty-minute ride out of the main town of Bunnyburrow, the foursome spotted the familiar sight of the massive Hopps warren. Without all the snow, it was a bit easier to see all of the wondrous decorations of the warren's exterior. The dark red shingles on the extensive roof were clearly visible all the way from the winding road out towards the farm. Petal shapes shaved into the grass on the warren's roof were echoed in little circles around small bushes in the driveway space. There were more rabbit motifs across the entire construct, from the two large ears over the façade to the tiny wrought-iron decorations on the top of the roof and the twisting iron chimney cap. Pinks, faded oranges and lighter taupes were clearly visible in the early afternoon sun. It had looked utterly charming in the winter, but now it looked nothing short of idyllic to Nick.

Something deep inside Nick told him two things: one, he thought that he would enjoy living in something like one of those warrens one day.

Two, there must have been numerous concerned rabbits already there, for the sheer number of cars and family buses parked outside of the warren and along the road underscored such a notion.

Griffin slid to a halt in front of the warren. He then let the concerned animals out of the backseat. Finnick gasped, desperate for fresh air, dreading having to breathe motor oil fumes any longer.

The four animals walked up to the front of the warren, stepping up the wide staircase and onto the large front porch. Nick could have sworn they could host dances there regularly.

He cast his eyes to Judy's face, and could see the incredible worry written all over it. Her violet eyes looked like living wells of fear, as though she dreaded to hear whatever news would await her on the other side of the door. Her nose twitched in angst, and her ears drooped a bit. It was clear that she wasn't expecting the best of news upon entering her home.

After Griffin rang the egg-shaped doorbell (which played a tinkly version of the Animalia national anthem), a short, gray-furred matronly bunny and her equally plump husband answered the door.

"Judy!" Bonnie Hopps cried as she hugged her daughter. It was obvious by the redness of her eyes and the ever-present tissues in her paw that she had been crying. Her husband Stu Hopps stood next to her, a grave look on his face as he shook paws with Nick. Finnick abstained from all greetings, preferring to growl his Z-team inspired "How you doin'?" to anyone who approached him.

"It's so good to see you two again," Stu exclaimed. "We've missed you around here, Nick."

"How's Pop-Pop?" Judy asked, a pleading look on her face.

As soon as Bonnie finished dabbing at her eyes, she indicated for the foursome to follow them into the massive, winding interior of the warren.

In addition to Judy's close family (all 278 of her siblings), Nick noticed that the warren seemed even more crowded than when last he was here. The massive kitchen and dining area that was right beyond the doors was jam-packed full of Judy's uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, cousins and little nieces and nephews. The smells of various carrot-related foods wafted out over the dome-like dining area, attracting the rabbits from all over the house. Nick took note of something else: the rabbits weren't chattering or playing loudly or singing or dancing or much of anything. It was obvious that they knew just how significant the looming problem was.

Bonnie and Stu led the four animals down a flight of stairs and into the first subterranean level of the labyrinth of underground rooms that comprised the warren. Passing bedrooms, bathrooms, sitting rooms, storerooms and many other places, Judy silently followed her mother while Finnick, Griffin and Nick came behind. The dim light from the small lamps mounted in the rounded ceilings cast a somber glow on all those present. All the rabbits occupying each of these rooms were practically silent, like an army of fuzzy-eared tombstones. The only ones who still made sounds still did them quietly, including the ones who were too young to understand what was happening.

Griffin quietly explained: "Otto Zaphod Hopps is this family's patriarch. The Hoppses have been living in the Burrows for as long as animals have occupied the Free Lands. When a patriarch is ailing, everyone in the clan must respect his sickness. It's just an unwritten law with us."

"What kind of unwritten law asks you to respect an animal with a name like Zaphod?" Finnick growled under his breath, but when Nick gave him a bop to the shoulder, the little fennec fox went quiet.

At last, Bonnie led them into a large, circular, dome-shaped room with clover-leaf prints on the walls. The room was lined with a plethora of shelves containing all manner of odds and ends: bullet casings, old 1940s military helmets, tattered Animalian flags.

War trophies.

A large, plush chair and desk dominated one side of the circular room, filled to the brim with papers and covered with personal items, a ring of keys and many other things. Papers were strewn everywhere, reminding Nick of the rabbit's office in the Lord of the Ringtails movies—utterly unkempt and disheveled.

"Trudy?" an old, scratchy voice called out from the opposite side.

Nick turned to look and watched as Judy walked quietly over to her Pop-Pop's bed, a large, cozy-looking affair decorated in earthy browns to match the rest of the room. Tucked tightly under the sheets was a very elderly-looking rabbit.

His green eyes were squinty and narrow, hidden by a swollen, large brown and gray snout and a bulging chin. His right ear looked like it had been squished in a door too many times, flopping down at an unusual angle. His eyes lit up when he saw his great-granddaughter, and she leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

"Look at you," he wheezed. "My little Trudy's getting so big."

He coughed once, twice, and wiped his nose off one of his blankets. Nick noticed Pop-Pop's nose was dripping a grayish discharge and his eyes were watery. Without a doubt, he definitely looked sick.

"Hey, Pop-Pop," Judy whispered. "It's all right. Judy's here."

"Hand me my glasses, will you, Trudy?" Pop-Pop asked eagerly.

Nick vaguely remembered something having to do with Pop-Pop constantly calling his great-granddaughter Trudy. This was simply because Pop-Pop had gotten so old and senile and had such a hard time keeping track of everyone in his family, it was easy for him to get confused with Judy's cousin Trudy.

Once Judy obliged, the old rabbit gave her a bit of a once-over. "You know," he said, "you look just like your mother when she was your age: way too eager and obsessed with danger."

Bonnie spoke up.

"Pop-Pop," she said, "Judy's brought guests—you know Griffin, but these are Judy's friends Nick Wilde and Finnick Foxe."

Pop-Pop propped himself up and examined the newcomers. To Griffin he gave a slightly welcoming eye, but he couldn't even see Finnick; he was so short.

When his eyes swung around to see Nick Wilde, they widened. "What did you say his name was?" he asked, a wary tone in his voice.

"My name is Nick Wilde, sir," Nick said, introducing himself.

The old rabbit let out a yell, not of pain but of something a lot deeper: fierce, rabid anger.

"What is this devil of a fox doing in my house?!" he hollered.

Everyone in the room looked at Nick with abject bewilderment. "What are you talking about, Pop-Pop?" Bonnie asked, incredulous.

The old rabbit, who had once appeared to be a sweet old thing, was now an infuriated, raving old coot.

"This... devil," he repeated, pointing a bony finger at Nick, "cannot be trusted! No fox, especially not a Wilde, can be trusted!"

He was now fully awake and alert, glaring straight at Nick.

"Do I need to remind you of the Battle of the Dellhigh?!" Pop-Pop shrieked.

"No, but—" Stu started to say, but the old rabbit wasn't listening.

"It was a long time ago, back in days of the Great War," he began. "I was just another soldier with a beautiful wife and wonderful kids of my own, who was tasked with defending our borders from the monsters of Kleinwald. The Hanzis were invading the Main Stretch, but by the blood and bones of our ancestors, no Kleinwaldian dog was ever going to set paws in our lands again. The other boys and I were tasked with defending the town of Dellhigh from the invaders. Despite all our efforts, the Hanzis made it right up to the Wall and blasted their way through. I'll never forget that black-and-blue-coated fiend as he stepped through the hole in the Wall and yelled down to us on the ground, his sword waving like a spotlight over his head.

"'Bunnies of the Burrows,' he yelled, 'my name is General Heinrich Wilde! If you surrender now, we will be merciful. If not, then you shall burn in the Fire beyond for all eternity!' I yelled back, 'Go burn yourself, Kleinwaldian pig!' The next thing I knew, an explosion went off right next to me, and I was knocked out, and when I came to..."

Here Pop-Pop began to get visibly teary, like he was remembering something heart-rending.

"...when I came to, everyone around me was dead! Dead, I tell you! Dead! It took me three days to find the bodies of my wife and two daughters! Everything was gone! Destroyed! Nothing was left!"

The old rabbit dabbed at his already weepy eyes with his old, crusty paw.

"And I vowed that no Wilde, Hanzi or otherwise, would ever come near me or my family ever again!" he shrieked.

He pointed at Nick again, getting more and more agitated by the second.

"Get him out of here!" he shrieked. "We don't need your type around here, Wilde! Get out of here! Get out of my house! Get out of—of—"

Here Pop-Pop began to cough and shake, falling backwards onto his pillow as he hacked and wheezed like a pneumonia-afflicted Saint Bernard. Bonnie and Stu rushed back over to his bedside, worried and confused looks on their faces. For a few seconds after the old rabbit fell backwards, still babbling about sending away the red-furred demon that was Nick Wilde, no one said a word.

"Well, we'd better go," Griffin said, subtly nodding with his ears over towards the door. "Stu, you and Bonnie stay with Pop-Pop, and get Doctor Wells here to give him some more painkillers."

Without another word, the small party of animals left the room, too much in shock to say anything.

***

"OK," Judy said hurriedly, "what the crud just happened in there?! What's this about Pop-Pop being mad at Nick for something his ancestor did?"

Griffin shrugged. "Otto's a stubborn old animal, and he's not the type to drop a grudge. Obviously he blames the Wilde clan for something that happened over sixty years ago, and seeing as how Nick here is a Wilde, he falls into the blamed category."

Nick was totally silent as he waded through the nuclear-sized bombshell that had just been dropped on him. To think that someone from his family had hurt someone from Judy's family to the extent that they would harbor a grudge for seventy long years? It was almost unthinkable.

"I had... no idea about any of this," he worked out at last. "I've always known my grand-uncle Heinrich was from Kleinwald, but he died years ago, and all we have left of him is some box full of junk my mom took when I was in college to put in her office."

Nick had discovered a bit of a problem: he needed to be with Carrots at her great-grandfather's bedside, but he couldn't be with her because her great-grandfather hated him.

"Well, now, ain't this a sad reunion," Finnick said, managing to somehow sound wistful in his growling. It was then that the group noticed that he was fingering a small, metal object.

"Where'd you get that key?" Judy asked, confused.

Finnick snorted. "The old geezer has a great collection of junk," he scoffed, "but he's got such bad eyesight, he didn't even see me lift it from his desk."

"Let me see it," Griffin said, and Finnick pawed over the rabbit-eared skeleton key. It was intricately carved and, unless the others weren't seeing correctly, it had some sort of design within the tiny hoop of the rod—a pair of initials, O.H.

Judy's violet eyes lit up as she suddenly recognized the small key.

"Didn't Pop-Pop have some sort of old steamer trunk he told us not to fool around with when we were kids?" Judy asked. Her question was quickly answered by Uncle Griffin.

"I think it's still in the lower basements," he recalled. "Come on. Maybe the answers to this whole conflict lie down there."

"You're all so welcome, I could cry," Finnick growled sarcastically as he followed the others down into the deepest recesses of the Hopps warren.

***

The tunnels beneath the main part of the warren wound on for what seemed like forever. Vaulted ceilings made from concrete held up the ever-growing weight of the earth above. Obviously, Stu and Bonnie never used this level for much of anything other than storage, since the number of old crates, rusting old baby carriages, empty paint buckets, cracked mirrors and other junk in the tunnel was near unimaginable. Above their heads, the low-hanging water pipes hissed and rumbled. Dim light bulbs hanging from the ceiling weren't really that useful, and cast quivering shadows on the five animals.

At last, at the end of one of the winding, narrow tunnels, they came to a moderately long hallway with boarded-up alcoves stretching up to the vaulted ceiling, reminding them all of a giant ribcage. A single lamp above cast a very faint light on this, the deepest part of the basement. At the far end of the tunnel was a pile of junk, dominated by a massive steamer trunk framed with rabbit-ear motifs and plates of unpolished, dark gold colored brass.

The dusty black-and-white floor tiles felt refreshingly cool on the animals' paws, in spite of the gritty feeling that accompanied the coolness.

Judy led the four of them over to the massive trunk and was rather pleased to realize the key fit.

"Does anyone feel like they're in an Indiana Bones movie?" Nick asked quietly, and Uncle Griffin had to admit, he did.

"Bingo!" Judy said as (with much effort) she lifted the lid on the massive trunk, releasing a mildewy smell that Nick and Finnick's sensitive noses found most offensive.

Inside the trunk were dozens of documents, all with large red letters stating "CONFIDENTIAL." Strands of numbers, letters and important-sounding names were scattered throughout the various pieces of paper, and several other folders were stacked in no particular sort of arrangement.

"Well," Judy said, "let's get cracking."

"Does anyone here question whether this is legal?" Nick asked aloud, but no one was listening.

They rifled and dug and pawed and filed through the entire trunk, and all they found was more of the same: random government reports and army registration forms. Some of them were old enough that it looked like they were issued during the Great War.

At last, Judy stumbled upon an old access card, laminated and hanging from a key.

"What's this?" she asked, twisting and turning the key every which way, examining it. It was only after Nick took a look at the laminated access card that she began to understand.

"'Main Library Access Code KCF67, registered to Otto Z. Hopps, Coneyshire Castle War Museum and Military Base,'" Nick read aloud. "What's Coneyshire Castle?"

Griffin was the one to answer, for even Judy, a longtime resident of the Burrows, had never even heard of such a place.

"Coneyshire Castle is a military base about an hour's drive from here," he explained. "It's a museum of military artifacts as well, and from what I remember about old Otto, he was certainly obsessed with the glory days. Maybe we can find some information about his crazy story there."

"What are we waiting for?" Finnick asked, sounding a little less grouchy. It was obvious his interest was piqued, and that was enough to make him lose his usually surly attitude.

Nick had already begun to follow the little fox across the dimly-lit subterranean room when he looked back at Judy, instantly feeling awful for momentarily forgetting the situation. He knew one of her family members was sitting in a room just a couple hundred feet above her, who was rotting from the inside out.

Judy looked a bit concerned. It was obvious that she didn't feel that heading over to the castle was such a smart idea. But at the same time, she seemed to understand the current situation regarding Nick.

After a few seconds, she began to explain.

"As much as I love Pop-Pop and care about staying by him," she began, "I care more about him living out his last days in peace, and if that means helping him to reconcile with Nick, then so be it."

She took a deep breath before continuing.

"Let's get going."

END OF PART ONE