Advice on Story Wanted. Spoiler alert for last book in one sentence but blurred.

This is a story I've been working on for over a year now. Any advice? Don't worry, I won't let this get distracted from Origin and Aerwiar. (OaA?) Anyway, I'm posting it to get advice.

The Hidden Fort

You probably are familiar with the story of the brave Throne Warden Janner Wingfeather and how he saved Anniera with the ultimate sacrifice. Still, wondrous as it is, that isn’t the only story to be told of Aerwiar. There is a place in Aerwiar, off the maps, untouched by humans*. This land is filled with strange animals, which are quite unusual. These should be in the highly acclaimed Pembrics Creaturepedia, which I highly suggest. In this land, past the Jungles of Plonst, there is a small sea, lined with cliffs, with a pretty island on the southern edge. On the northern edge of this sea, two ramps built by these sentient creatures lead down to two ports. The ships travel between these ports and the island, which was named Mynia (mee-NI-ya) Mynia was a small island with many valuable resources, and its noble king had to deal with many invasions because of that. As our story begins, he has just stopped an attack by the Shernian Blats, robbers of great evil doing in the Shernian forest, which is directly above the western port. The only trail to the port trails around the forest, making trade dangerous. The sea is the only communication through this land besides the very dangerous, swift river Cahriz, which is so swift, the only way to cross safely is to start at the town of Cloutin, then pay the strongest and most swift sailors to row as hard as they can to get to Lifton, which is in the center of the rushing waters. There is no way away from Lifton other than flying, which is why there are only birds and stranded animals living there. There is another town, Blitzburg, on the Eastern side of the river. It can communicate by going around the waterfall on the small sea, or by sending messages with birds. South of Cloutin is Eabston, a tiny town with only one store, with quite high prices. Alas! The town is nestled right up against the northern edge of the Shernian Forest, and anyone can see why this is dangerous. But, I must start my tale of bravery and woe, treachery and sorrow. 

*Jonathid Choonch Brownman is the lone exception, he found this place and kept calling the rabbits, flabbits. However, the rabbit is only similar to a flabbit in size and shape, not in temperment, allowing him to survive, unlike if he’d come across a community of flabbits. He left for many years and upon return was staying in Lifton when the river split, closing the town off and causing him to be trapped. However, he was quite happy with his plight as it gave him time to study the bird's language. 

Lalya Pomnyfoom stared at the book in her hands, and let her mind wander slowly over the years. She smiled gently and opened her Book of Leaves.

—

She had entered the store three years before, coming for Choonch Glompfoon Feather ointment for her mother.* Her mom had a bad eadache ( EED-aeck), and the ointment was the best way to stop it. She rang the old bell at the gray, dirty counter, looking around at the store slightly gloomily. She lived in a small house with her mother and sister on the southern and most dangerous border of Eabston. That resulted in her mother Crischi (Cris-shee) getting eadaches and the jitters. Oh, if only they lived in Cloutin, it had brave bucks and was safe! She jumped quickly out of her daydream; The old storekeeper, a tall red blat, had walked out into the open holding a ledger; he had asked, “Now young doe, what can I get you?” and startled her. She had bought the ointment that was always in stock, and turned to go when he’d called out, “Wait! The leaf in your hood, may I have it? It is a rare Loked tree leaf; I would love to have one in my leaf collection!” She had stared, then asked, “You have a leaf collection? I’ve always wanted one, but didn’t know how to begin!” He stared back, then said happily, “Do you have an empty scrapbook?” She assented, and he continued, “All you have to do is identify any leaves you find, see if you have one already, and if you don’t, write its name, and attach it above or below, using this special goopny glue. The leaves have to be green, otherwise, they will crumble! That’s also why we glue down the edges, see?” He showed her his leaf collection; it had not one book, but fourteen! They looked at them until she remembered, “My mother's eadache! I need to get her the ointment!” The blat (who had been born without wings, and thus was excluded from the blats, and only allowed in the rabbit community because he did not have wings and stood upright) bid her farewell, and she ran home, for once excited to be there while her mom had a eadache! She held the Loked leaf, which the blat** had been explained as a regular Bently tree leaf but bent, unlike normal Bently leaves which were stick straight. She gave the ointment to her mother, who was too exhausted to scold her for dallying, and got the scrapbook she had been given on her birthday down from the shelf in the living room. Her sister Ralya*** was reading a book on the couch, she looked up and asked wryly, “Am I dreaming? I see Lalya getting down her scrapbook!” Lalya grinned, hugging the old hated book of yore, “Scrapbook no longer! Where’s the goopny glue?” Ralya answered, setting down her book in sheer curiosity, “On the left side of the third top shelf from the right in the cookner, three gluey jars in… what in Aerwiar are you up to?” Lalya, from the other room, “I have a leaf to record!” Ralya blinked, “A leaf? I thought you were too scared to begin collecting leaves because you didn’t want to waste space learning, what changed that?” Lalya smiled, skipping over to the table, “The funny-looking storekeeper: he collects leaves. He told me the answers to my greatest concerns! He’s so nice!” Ralya, rising from the couch lazily, warned her gently, “Remember, he’s not a rabbit, but a blat, blats are the stealing ones which steal, and even if he doesn’t live with them, he still is one (High prices are his way of stealing), and besides, rabbits will look at you funny if you say a blat is nice.” Lalya sighed, “You’re right like always… but he IS nice!” She sat down, glued, and labeled the leaf. “This isn’t that hard!” Ralya smirked, “and that book won’t go to waste as Mom feared!” Lalya grinned, “No fear in that, I plan to fill this book from top to bottom, starting with a page of normal leaves, see? I have it marked right here.” Ralya was about to respond when their Mom came in, breathing a little heavily, “Hi girls, what are you up to? Nothing dangerous I hope. Lalya, you need to grow up a little more.” Lalya looked up grimacing, “Mom! I’m trying!” Crischi grinned, “I half mean it, and am half needling you, though you could do well to stop being so reckless, it gives me jitters! Also, what are you doing with your photo album? I thought you detested the thing.” Ralya interjected, “She’s collecting leaves, “kind” Uncle Blat gave her some advice.” Lalya shrugged, “He just showed me what type of glue to use, and how to do it.” Crischi looked sharply at Lalya, “We don’t “like” blats. The only reason he’s allowed in our community is he is more normal than other blats: he doesn’t have blatty wings trailing on the ground and he can stand upright.”  Lalya nodded, “I know, but we really could be nicer to the blats, maybe they only resort to thieving in the woods because they are unliked here!” Crischi grimaced, “That is a dangerous idea in this town, and I don’t want to hear it again. It makes sense, and I actually do believe it, but most rabbits don’t like to be blamed for bad things. Remember, it’s easier to shove guilt off on someone else than assume it yourself! However, it’s more important to accept your faults.” Lalya nodded, “Oy, Tidletop^.” Crischi smirked, “Another Tidletop is bedtime always happens! And it's in 15 minutes. You’d better get in your SWs^^” The two does groaned, then giggled playfully, they loved bedtime for all the whispers their mom put up with. They padded out of the room quickly.

*This ointment was brought over once a year from Cahritown by the birds.

**The blat’s name is Poompernekelayea and therefore goes by Uncle Blat.

***Ralya is short for Raypyla (R-ay-pie-lae)

^Tidletop is saying something is true always and forever, or in some contexts “I’m hungry, feed me raw fish”

^^SW stands for Peanut butter and jelly, which for some random reason is what they call their PJs

Chapter 2 Zibsy and Embarrassing Moms

           “You ready slow biliblobs?* We’re gonna get your gloat again!” yelled Lalya competitively, “Yer goin down!” Ralya laughed, “Lalya, be nice!” but she was grinning as she scolded. Their competitors, Natan-el and Yah-natan, who’d moved to Eabston from a small village across the river three years ago, were their almost daily competitors in Choonch Zibsy, in which they’d gotten so good the bucks only defeated them if they were both sick or tired! Natan-el, who knew it was hopeless, but never got tired of playing them, hooted back, “Oh yeah? We’ve got a secret plan down our shirts you nannylogs!**” Yah-natan, who was the one who actually thought they could win eventually, simply smiled grimly (or so he thought, for he actually looked extremely sad when he did so) at the two of them. Ralya broke the newly made silence (they all regarded her as a captain and the umpire) by yelling hoarsely, “ BeeBLe BiMBLe BaBBLe B, N Di PLaS YaR MaDe 2 B!!” They quickly spun into place and then all chanted “BiLBaMBiMBaBiBo, LeT YeR TeaM aLL NoT Be SLo!!” She responded, “DiLGaNaNoXiSY WHyS THe PauSe iN ZiBSY!!” As she spoke the last syllables she booted a roundish square (but mostly octagonale) ball high in the air, and all of them flared into playing. First, the bucks were ahead by a little with a 2-pointer, but then Lalya had a near-impossible airstrike and they were way ahead and undefeatable for the rest of the game. In the middle of all this, their Moms had finished their daily work for the moment and come to chat, argue, and cheer on opposite teams all while gmlailing*** at each other. They were very loud and enticed other rabbits, who all seemed to pause for at least 5 minutes gmlailing before remembering what they actually needed to do. After 5 gameblocks they were sweating profusely, and smiling ear to ear. They had found that 5 blocks were just the right amount for them, and afterward, they typically lingered gabbing for 15 minutes or so about just about anything! This day they noticed a tall, thin, and unkempt buck behind a strangely familiar (and very heavy) doe who had waddled up, and was currently talking exuberantly to their mother about something very unimportant and trivial. Lalya was the first to recognize her as Mrs. String Bilbaggle, a doe she sometimes saw in the store. The buck behind her she didn’t recognize, but Ralya knew that Mrs. Bilbaggle had a son named Blimpy. They decided it must be he at the exact moment his mother turned and said, “Now Blimpy, go talk with the nice does who won the game!” in a horridly screechy voice. He limped over and stared dumbly at them for five seconds before suddenly beginning to talk nonstop for five minutes in a weirdly deep and squeaky voice. He talked about how bad the blats were, and how they made life difficult for him. He talked about the various ways they could destroy all blats, therefore making his mom happy. He talked and talked and talked. The bombarage only stopped when his mother got offended at something their Mom had mentioned and dragged him off. Once he was out of sight, (for he’d kept talking as he was dragged backward off into the distance) they collapsed giggling. Lalya tried to imitate his silly-sounding voice but she was laughing too hard. Ralya was able to stop giggling after a short coughing fit which lasted a few seconds. “Lalya! We shouldn’t be laughing at him!” That caused Lalya to be able to stop pretty quickly. “All right, but he DID talk so much, and what a voice!” Ralya nodded, “He was that, and his mom is as well, but we shouldn’t laugh at them! Mrs Bilbaggle asked us two over tomorrow to babysit him while she's gone shopping.” Lalya, stupified, said, “How do you know that?” “Simple, I wasn’t listening to him, but to his mom.” Lalya nodded, “that makes sense.” Crischi walked over and interrupted, “All right conquerors, it's time to go home, and also, yes, you two are going over at 10 a.m. tomorrow.” They both nodded as Ralya gave a weak smile and then they followed their Mother back home talking, but not as exuberantly as the Bilbaggles, and definitely less exuberantly than normal, all the way.

*This is a competitive term referring to bucks as old gloats, as those are very fat and slow, thus the term Billiblobs. 

**This is a competitive term referring to does as mommy gloats, as those are very tired, therefore sleeping like logs, thus the term nannylogs. 

***This is a combo of the words flailing, grinning, and smiling

Chapter 3 The State of Lukewarmnessness

Lalya woke up the next morning not remembering what she was dreading. She rolled over and ran into Ralya, who was still in bed. Surprised, she poked Ralya, and the doe rolled over heavily groaning. Lalya bounced a little, “Hey, sleepyhead! I’m surprised you haven’t gotten up yet! I normally am the last out of bed unless Mum has a eadache. Are you entering your sleepy teen years?” Ralya cracked one eye open, slowly blinked, groaned softly, and then raspily muttered, “Lal-la! I’m sweepy! Weeve me awone!” Lalya quickly said curiously “Are you OK? The last time you baby talked was when you came down with moseysoxz*!” Ralya didn’t respond, already being fast asleep again, and snoring! Worried, Lalya ran into the other room and shook Crischi vigorously. “Mom! Ralya’s sick! Hurry!” Crischi sat up quickly and padded into the other room. “Ralya, are you okay?” Ralya didn’t respond as she was already fast asleep and snoring. Crischi looked annoyed as she said, “Yes, she is sick. I think she came down with the same thing those younglings across town have*. Do you feel fine?” Lalya nodded, “Yes I do, why?” Crischi groaned, “Remember? You’ve got a babysitting appointment with the Bilbaggles!” “Wouldn’t we want to keep Blimpy from getting sick?” Lalya questioned. “Yes, however, I wouldn’t want to offend that (crazy) mother of his.” Crischi sighed, “So you’d better get breakfast.”

                                                                     —

A very short time later, Lalya was knocking on the Bilbaggles broken door, and hoping she’d be sent home immediately afterwards. The door opened, and Mrs String Bilbaggle’s droopy face peered out. For a second, Lalya thought she looked exactly like an old sad horned hound. The old doe said grumpily “You’re LATE! How can I depend on someone who arrives HALF A MINUTE LATE!? I’m going shopping and all the best deals will be GONE because you arrived LATE!!!.....” The rampage lasted a few minutes before Lalya was able to break in and apologize, which finally ended the word bath. Unfortunately, this caused Lalya to be unable to inform her employer that her sister had the State of Lukewarmnessness going on. Blimpy showed Lalya all over his house, and then they began to talk over a game of neetweets. Of course, the conversation started going towards rumors and blats.

*This sickness turns out to be the State of Lukewarmnessness, where the unfortunate rabbit can do nothing more than eat and sleep, as it’s unfortunately semi-paralyzing. Nothing more needs to be said about this unfortunate topic.

Chapter 4: Treasure!     ...in the blatty forest…

“Do you even know a little bit of how awfully horridly horrid those awful blatty blats are to me and my Mummy! Last week, horrid things, they dared to steal an vitally important package right out of the bed of the mailbucks cart, I don’t know WHY they’re SO horridly horrid to my Mummy and I, they should all be shoved into the Cahriz and they can all just go over the falls! They steal so much, I don’t know why rabbitkind doesn’t rise up and wipe them out! Do you know why, Lalya Breeta? Why is your fur so fluffy all of a sudden? Do you like treasure? Well there’s treasure in the forest, the stolen coins of King Noorupolu, all the stuff the blats stole from my mommy, like the chest she ordered from Mynia! Ohh, if only rabbits would come together and wipe them all out… this went on for a long time! He finally stopped rampaging when she asked, “Wait, you said there was treasure in the forest?” He then said excitedly, “Yeah, all that stolen stuff is just sitting there, gathering dust-or mildew, with no one who matters to use it. I’ve heard that it’s in a special hiding spot on the far edge of the forest. 

and that's how far I've gotten. What do you think? any ways I could improve my writing? can you tell where this story is headed?