Rabbits like me and you will die vainly trying to defend the last little corner of light in the world.” He looked out over the village green, at the many rabbits working and talking and eating and laughing. “I’ve been a soldier all my life, Picket. I’ve been with many at the end. We’re alone here, and the stories are all wrong. Nothing ends well. We’re going to lose, Picket. The stories are all wrong.”
