“When will our yard be ready?” Blossom asked.
He’d been very excited when Mr Meurs had measured their hutch and written things in his notebook. Finally, he’d brought timber and his tools and began sawing and hammering.

Mr Meurs had also shown Agatha plans to convert their little enclosure that was under their hutch into a new ground floor, meant that when the renovation was finished, their house would be twice the size it was now.

But then the weather turned cold again and it had rained. Their new house and yard hadn’t been touched for days.
“Mr Meurs is a busy farmer,” Agatha replied for about the tenth time that day. “He can’t drop everything just to finish our house.”

Blossom pushed his nose against the wire and sighed.

That evening, Blossom’s frustration boiled over. He squealed and hopped about their small enclosure until Agatha sent him to bed in disgrace. Blossom was still a very little bunny. He longed to have his own room, with lots of space, where he could pretend he was an adventurer, or a pirate.

He knew all about pirates. Archie owned a pirate cloak and hat, as well as an eye patch, a cutlass, and a squashy toy parrot which terrified Blossom when it squawked.

Archie had a pirate book too, with lots of pictures in it. Sometimes he and Ella dragged sheets and chairs into the back garden to make a pirate ship and play Pirates of the Spanish Main. They’d sit on the makeshift poop deck and read the exciting adventures to Blossom.

He lay awake listening to Agatha humming quietly in the living room. He tossed and turned until his bed was a tangled mess. When he heard a sharp knock knock  at their front door, he sneaked out of bed and peeked into the living room. His mother was whispering to someone at their front door.

“Come inside and warm yourselves. Yes, it’s exciting news: I couldn’t wait to post it. I’ll just put the kettle on.”

“I can’t say that I’d like living in a house with walls, no matter how comfortable,” came a voice he recognised as his aunt Regina’s.

Some of their wild-rabbit relatives were visiting.

“It suits Agatha,” a second voice piped, in a loud admonishing tone.
“Lower your voice, Fern. You’ll wake Blossom.”
“It does suit me,” Blossom heard his mother say with a sigh. “I’m not like you Regina, I’ve never liked the idea of living in the wild, not after… you know… I prefer the pretty garden and the family who are good to us. We are happy and safe.”

Blossom twitched his little ears and hopped back to his bed. He was tired of being safe.

Another quiet knocking made him pause. It was coming from outside his window.
“Psst!”