Anna lay on her back in the grass and contentedly watched the clouds. The soft white wisps curled and changed gently and her mind saw familiar shapes within them. Croissants, an upside down oak tree, a peach, the pale grey-green underbelly of yet another aircraft.

As the jet blasted overhead the rabbit scowled. Why was it that the wretched beasts insisted on swooping over her home? There were miles of fields on either side of her home that could be bothered without complaint. Sometimes when the planes came in low their passing was enough to rattle the window glass loudly.

While Anna had worked to reclaim the house and garden the planes had been constant companions and a tooth gnashing annoyance. The lapine had no interest in the noisy contraptions and yet she found herself becoming something of an unhappy expert. They came in different shapes, sizes, noises, speeds and heights. As she fought valiantly with the aid of a hefty stick to reach the shed Anna began to name the aircraft. The fat little jets with plump middles and funny boom tails became 'Avocados'. The fast, twitchy, straight winged machines with the slender middles she called 'Fidgets'. The huge, fat, lumbering ones with their droning propellers and squat builds became 'Grumble Bees'.

The panting rabbit bashed and clubbed her way through tightly entwined brambles. It took her most of the morning to flatten enough of the jungle to reach the front of the shed. Much to her surprise the lock in the double doors clicked open easily. She swung them open wide and stepped into the unknown. Sunlight lanced through the grime encrusted windows and gave everything an eerie yellowed hue. A pile of boxes in the far corner was stacked as higher than her head. It was covered with a musty tarpaulin that was thick with dust. The shed had a concrete floor and the walls were jam packed with rusted tools that hung from nails. Anna found a big workbench that overflowed with a huge array of bits and pieces. There were boxes, jars, nails, bolts, screws and plenty of other things she had no name for. There was also an impressive array of dead flies scattered throughout.

In the middle of the detritus on the workbench Anna found a small can of oil. She tugged it free and in doing so upset the fossilised remains of a cup of tea. Inside the can some of the syrupy golden oil still lingered. Anna set about making a pile of useful tools that she could do with salvaging. Wire cutters, screwdrivers, pliers, pruning shears, a small scythe and a sharpening stone were bundled together after she gripped the hem of her dress to turn it into a makeshift basket. With a clanking arsenal of tools stashed in her garment Anna moved outside. She sat down cross legged on a patch of earth that was blissfully free of thorns and set to sharpening what needed sharpening and oiling what needed to be oiled. The rabbit knew the scythe was sharp enough when a Fidget sneaked up behind her and screamed overhead. This caused her to slice open a knuckle in painful surprise. She did not shake her fist at the retreating plane. She merely sucked on it.

Anna was no Robinson Crusoe, but she knew that if she was going to survive in the cottage she needed to get to the water pump as soon as she could. The freshly sharpened scythe was awkward to wield but the lapine soon got the hang of it. She hacked at the grass and dead bushes with her jaw set grimly and her eyes blazing. Sweat matted her fur as she puffed and swung. By the time she was through Anna would have some wicked calluses to show for her efforts.

When she finally reached the pump Anna tried the handle. She had built up a towering thirst. The pump was stuck solid. Not to be denied, Anna hurried back to the shed. She fetched the tools and oil and lubricated, tapped, pried, pleaded and swore at the pump. When that did not work she walloped it a few times with a hammer. With her fingers buzzing numbly from the blows of metal on metal Anna tried the handle again. With an indignant creak the handle moved stiffly. Dust and a startled spider were expelled from the spout. Undeterred she kept pumping. It creaked, groaned and complained. Finally there was a gurgle and the spout retched some horrid looking brown water.

"Gotcha" Anna rasped past dry, cracked lips in dehydrated triumph. She kept working the handle until the fluid spurting from it was clear and free of flecks of rust. The water sparkled in the sunlight. Ducking her head under the flow she opened her mouth. The water was heavenly. It was cold, it was refreshing, it was hers. She soaked the fur of her face in it and cooled herself off as she drank her fill. Shaking her head to make the droplets at the ends of her whiskers fly away the rabbit felt quite the satisfied savage.

With a sloshing bellyful of water Anna felt much better about the world. She moved onto the next item on the agenda. The gate. Wielding her scythe like the grim reaper himself the rabbit cleared a path to the rusted metal in record time. She neatly clipped away the wire holding it shut. She made sure to pocket the wire. It would never do to waste something that might come in handy later. Next the front door was oiled and hammered into obedience and flung open wide. The windows and top half of the back door did not escape her wrath. Soon a breeze was blowing through the cottage for the first time in years.

With much sweat and straining Anna moved all of her belongings to the shed and tucked them under the tarpaulin. Opening a suitcase she selected two head-scarves. One was tied about her hair while the other went over her nose and mouth. With besom broom in paw Anna swept at the cottage floor like a woman possessed. Clouds of dust and filth billowed from the windows and doors as she worked. It drifted upon the breeze like mist for a time. Every surface was brushed and the rabbit evicted the crow. It exploded from it's hole in the roof with an angry caw and flurry of feathers never to return.

After the sweeping and dusting came the scrubbing. Water was collected from the pump in a metal ringed wooden bucket. Anna soaked the interior of her home. Using a threadbare wicker brush she worked the grime from the nooks and crannies. She worked tirelessly. Her arms ached and her knuckles were scuffed raw but she did not stop. Windows were washed and the broken panes of glass removed. In their stead she put cardboard from her boxes that she cut neatly to fit. Wooden slats made from old fruit boxes were nailed into place to plug the holes in the roof. It was not a perfect repair by any means but it would do for now.

With the Great Clean at a satisfactory stage Anna finally stopped for the day. Her stomach growled indignantly. She was famished. The evening sun was slowly sinking towards the west as she strode out to the pump with the bucket under her arm. She was filthy. Her fur was matted and smeared with muck. She set the bucket beside the pump and wandered into the shed. When she emerged her arms were filled with clothing and her wash bag. She hung a pale cream summer dress over the branch of the cherry tree. It was a simple knee length thing. Backless adorned with printed red flowers. It broke just above the knee and was just right for the balmy evening. A fresh bra and pair of white knickers joined it on the branch before she strode to the pump. As she walked she was tugging the dirty black dress up and over her head. Fishing soap and shampoo from the wash bag she knelt in the grass before the pump and filled the bucket. Her bra barely held her deep cleavage in check and her straining bust was soon freed to sag gently as she reached behind her to release the clasp.

Anna shoved her knickers down her thick thighs. Struggling out of the underwear she stuffed them and her bra into the bucket and set about soaking them and scrubbing at the gussets with the soap. Rinsing them off she did the same with the dress before hanging the whole lot up to dry in the branches of the trees. Kneeling back down she soaked herself with cold water from the bucket with a gasp. She began to scrub a lather into her fur. She worked the suds into her tuft of longer fur between her sturdy legs. Setting her glasses aside the rabbit set about shampooing her hair. As she reared up onto her knees to tug fingers through the strawberry blonde tangles a faint sound made Anna freeze. The familiar low whine of a jet signalled the approach of an Avocado.

Opening one eye Anna turned her head towards the noise. Without her glasses all she could see was various shades of coloured blurs. The sky was a warm blend of yellow, orange and pink. She bent her head under the pump and worked the handle furiously. So it was that when the aircraft passed low overhead to two occupants were greeted by the sight of her enormous, round backside stuck up in the air with her white spade of a tail flicking to and fro. Anna could have sworn she heard a whoop of glee over the scream of the jet engine. The flesh beneath the fur of her cheeks and inner ears blossomed into a ripe red blush. She cooled it swiftly with more of the icy water from the pump. After rinsing off her fur she got to her feet and put her glasses back on.

The Avocado circled her garden with one wing dipped towards the ground. Two white blobs that she assumed where helmets were just visible beneath the glass canopy. Putting both paws on her hips and with her chest puffed out in annoyance she turned to follow the machine as it swept round the hedges.  Glaring at the circling aircraft and bared to it in her entirety Anna jabbed two fingers into the air in defiance. Not in Mr Churchill's way either.
The movement of her arm made her abundant bosom jiggle and sway as the Avocado abruptly banked and screamed overhead. The machine
broke into a lazy victory roll as she watched before it headed east and away. Burning with rage and embarrassment she could not help but smile. She could not in good conscience begrudge the pilots a double take. It must have been quite a sight to see a feral Amazonian rabbit bathing herself in the wild tangle of usually deserted garden.

Once Anna was dried and dressed she hauled her bicycle through the cottage and locked up behind her. Propping the ancient bike against the outside wall of the cottage the rabbit fought with the stubborn lock on the front door to get it to click into place. With the windows left wide open and the back door half off its hinges the act of locking the front door was a futile one. There was nothing to steal anyway. Her belongings were sealed in the shed. It was a habit she wanted to get into. When Anna finally turned towards the gate she froze.

Stood motionless beyond the gate was perhaps the oldest creature that Anna had ever laid eyes upon. He was a stoat. His fur was snowy white and his eyes a pale milky blue. His over-long whiskers drooped gently and swayed in the gentle breeze. He looked half blind and he was bent almost double. He walked with the aid of a gnarled cane and a sullen looking child. The little boy was also a stoat but with fur of deepest brown and quick dark eyes. Both of them regarded her intently. She mastered her surprise and smiled. With her bike clicking along beside her Anna walked down the path to greet them. The child stepped back instantly to place the elder stoat between the approaching rabbit and himself.

"Good evening." Anna called brightly with a little wave of her paw.

The old stoat was silent for a moment and he blinked owlishly. "It is that." the old man eventually rasped. Then he beamed. His features almost vanished into deep set wrinkles. A few lonely black teeth graced his gums. There was something wondrous in his smile. It was so honestly cheerful and his half blind eyes still twinkled with good natured mischief as he spoke "Nice to see someone making a go of this place."

"How long has it been since anyone lived in it?" Anna enquired. The old man stepped back and opened the gate for her to push the bike through. His fingers were long and skeletal but devoid of the usual tremors found in the superannuated.

"Oh, little over twelve years. Not since old father Braun was lost." His voice was soft and something between a wheeze and chuckled whisper. Oddly enough it was not hard to hear what he was saying. Anna got the distinct impression that even the natural world stopped to listen when the wise man spoke.

"He died in the war?" She ventured uncertainly as she lost herself in those shrewd eyes.

"He was lost with his ship. Many were. Such a tragedy." The old man shook his head and clicked his tongue sadly.

"I'm sorry to hear that." The ancient stoat did not comment. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. "Did none of his family want the cottage." Anna pressed as she closed the gate behind her.

"No." Before the old man could take breath to elaborate a small voice interrupted him.

"It's cos' he's still in it!" piped the little boy suddenly and stepped forward. "He haunts the place, drives out anyone who moves in!" Anna's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise at this explanation. The boy took breath to continue his excited supernatural theory but instead yelped as the curved top of the wooden cane thwacked him smartly between the ears.

Anna glanced between them in genuine bafflement. The old man reached over to pat her hand with a reassuring smile. The boy rubbed his head angrily and looked mutinously at the elder.

"Forgive his rudeness. But he is right. A spirit lingers in this place."

"A ghost?" She asked.

"A spirit." He corrected.

"Oh. Well...I suppose it...he was here first. I shall just have to be polite." The boy stared at her with shocked eyes. Surely she should be scared out of her wits to know her house was haunted? Anna certainly wasn't. Even the old man looked taken aback at this. He seemed to pleased at this and he laughed.

"You are a very wise woman indeed. If you try and force it out, it will win. You have much more to lose you see. Much better is to make peace with it. Make a friend of your spirit. An ally is much better than an enemy." Anna nodded in eager agreement and the stoat flashed that wide toothless smile again. She opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a loud growl from her stomach. After being neglected for an entire day her appetite was not only returning but more vocal. "Ahh, I would so dearly love to talk longer but I think we both have previous destinations, yes? Let us endeavour to reach them." He reached out a hand towards the child who took it without further comment. The boy led the old stoat away down the path. The old man then turned his head suddenly. "Have a good evening, Miss DeLeon. I look forward to talking with you again."

As they walked away Anna mounted her bicycle and rattled off down the path towards the village. As she cycled her mind was filled with thoughts of ghosts and her supposedly haunted cottage. She was not in the least bit scared. She was no threat to a ghost or spirit. That meant it was unlikely to be a threat to her. Surely it would not be too put out for her to turn the ruin into a nice place to live? Suddenly the rabbit stopped dead in her tracks in a squeal of brakes and stared at the orange evening sky and fluffy pink clouds. A chill ran down her spine.

How did the old stoat know her name?