A battered and scarred WW2 military uniform clad rabbit soldier, his short fur a mangy mix of sandy beige and dusty grey, punctuated with streaks of copper red where the blood hasn't dried, treks through the ravaged desolate landscape, a rough wicker basket slung over his heaving, muscled shoulder, seemingly buoyant under the weight of its precious cargo. The basket is woven from weathered willow branches, its worn handle gnarled and twisted into a gnarl, and is loaded to the brim with dozens of assorted eggs, each one stained and smudged with crimson rivulets, glistening like rubies amidst the messy, organic jumble. The soldier bunny's face is a map of bruised scratches and deep cuts, yet amidst the welter of wounds his red eyes blaze bright as hot coals, flaring with an inner intensity that belies his battered, worn demeanor. A damp crimson smear pathogens the soft fur at the edge of his jawline, like a cherry enough juices have been absorbed. Across his chest a tarnished metal pin glints, its patina etched with a red eagle emblem, a stark and poignant symbol of a warrior defending his charge, even in the most punishing circumstances.