*****
Aman followed the weasels' trail over roots and branches, tracking their skinny footprints in the mud, but he could scarcely hear the sound of his footsteps over the beat of his heart. Sven was counting on him.
He crested a small hill, and instinct flaring, dove into the brush. He lay prone on a bed of wet leaves and tried to slow his breathing. Calm down Aman. Then, ever so carefully, he peeked out.
An enormous tree stood up ahead with a thorny patch around its base. A faint light shone from somewhere deep within, right where the weasels' trail led. Aman spotted something else too: a pair of lumps in the mud that together cast a long shadow across the path.
"Mouse cloaks," he whispered. "Probably the boys'."
Aman couldn't see the weasels, or any other signs of Hester and her brothers. He crawled on his paws and knees through the brush to get a closer look, and then perked his ears; were those voices?
Suddenly something large blocked the light, and Aman curled back, reflexively clutching his spear. He couldn't see anything but the twinkle of stars peeking through the canopy.
Then the light returned, and Aman watched a giant shadow climb effortlessly up the tree. The shadow slid around the trunk and stopped in the crook of two branches. It was the cat, he was sure of it. Fear struck him then, the kind only prey feels and he shivered from tip to tail.
The cat leaped to the branches of the next tree, and Aman lay silent, unsure of how to proceed. Though high in the trees, the cat was definitely heading toward Guineawick. Should he turn back? A flicker of light from the thicket caught his attention.
Steeling himself, he took up his spear and hurried toward the tree. He confirmed that the lumps were indeed mouse cloaks; better leave them as markers for Sven and the others.
Aman hunched low and moved deeper into the thicket. The light came from a hole at the base of the tree, and he navigated the thick thorns by keeping to the trail of drag marks on the ground.
He peered into the entrance of the hollow, and his whiskers drooped. He saw the bramble cage, saw the weasels closing in. Then he saw where the snake of thicket vines led toward the hollow's ceiling, and suddenly a plan formed in his mind. Aman put his spear to his back and began to climb.
18
Hester hung on to her brothers and tried to comfort them. The weasels looked restless; they bickered at one another with their hissing and clicks. She didn't need to know their tongue to understand their looks.
They were hungry.
"I wanna see Mom," Toby cried and Hester squeezed him closer.
"Me too," she said. "Don't worry, Sven will come." She hid their faces in her fur, and watched as the weasels inched closer.
Zach lifted his head and met her own tearful gaze, when surprise flashed in his whiskers. Hester saw his eyes widen as he stared not at, but past her. She followed his gaze through the bramble and up to the ceiling; she could just make out the glint of metal. It was Aman! She quickly looked down and stifled Zach.
The Guardmouse froze on the roof of the bramble cage; Zach had seen him. He stared down through the thick thorny vines, hoping Zach did not betray his position. He breathed a sigh of relief when Hester contained her little brother.
Three of the weasels closed in around the bramble: one at the front, and the others on opposite sides. The fourth weasel, obviously the leader of the group, stayed back and hissed orders. Aman began edging down the front wall, and reached for his spear.
Keep it simple, Aman; Sven said nothing fancy.
The three weasels licked their lips, then put down their torches and bent on their haunches. The bramble shook as they began to lift the cage, and seeing his opening, Aman kicked off the front wall with his spear drawn.
"Up here!" Aman shouted, and he landed on the lead weasel. The beast threw up his arms to defend himself, but Aman's spear pierced his shoulder, and together they fell to the ground.
Before the others could register the attack, Aman rolled off of their comrade and drew his sword. The three weasels turned around to see the little mud-caked mouse nervously pointing his blade back and forth between them. Then they saw their dead leader, and their surprise quickly turned to angry snarls.
"Run Aman!" Hester shouted. "They're gonna attack Guineawick!" The weasels moved to surround him, but Aman backed up against the charred wall and grabbed up the fallen weasel's torch.
"I won't leave you!" Aman shouted, and he waved the torch at the monsters. Two recoiled at the flames, but the closest batted the torch from Aman's paws. Hester rushed to the wall of thorns.
"You've got to warn Sven!" she yelled. The weasels laughed and advanced.
"Consider him warned," a deep voice boomed. Everyone stopped and snapped their heads to the figure in the entrance.
Hester nearly jumped for joy as Sven charged into the hollow.
The weasels turned to face him, but shrank back when they saw the half-dozen Guardmice trailing behind. One weasel ran forward, and Sven speared the beast in the chest. Then he arced the spear up and over his head, dumping the dead weasel on the ground behind him.
Seeing another comrade fall, the remaining weasels panicked and tried to escape. Unfortunately for them the hollow's only exit lay past Sven. Aman led the Guardmice to surround one weasel, while Sven tackled the last, throwing the beast up onto the bramble cage.
The shock of the collision threw Hester back into her brothers. As the siblings untangled themselves, they heard another cry, and then all went silent. The weasel on the bramble wall shook slightly, and then flew off as Sven threw the bloodied corpse onto a pile with the others.
"Sven!" Hester cried. "I knew you'd come."
"Stand back," Sven said. He pushed the tip of his silvery spear under the bramble, and using it as a lever, lifted the thorns high enough for the three mice to escape.
Hester ran and hugged him, unashamed of their collective filth. She buried herself in his muddy white fur, and soon her brothers joined them. "You came!" she said, tears in her eyes.
"Hester," Sven said, and he grasped her shoulders. "You wanted Aman to warn me. Where's the thom? Why were there weasels guarding you?"
"There's no time," Hester said rapidly. "We were just bait. The thom, he has a weasel army. They're going to attack Guineawick. He said you'd still be there, he wants to kill you..."
Sven didn't have time to unravel the details of the beast's plot. He had left the town on guard, but who knew how big the thom's army would be? Doubtless the beasts would attack Guineawick with much more force than could be handled normally.
He took a deep breath and searched for Aman. The brown-fur had finally managed to retrieve his spear from the weasel's shoulder; a full third of the haft had been embedded in the corpse. Aman wiped the weapon on the body, and then came to Hester's side.
Sven let them share a silent moment. Perhaps it would be the first of many. That is, if they survived the night. The rabbit looked over the faces of the Guardmice and he saw their uncertainty, smelled their fear.
"Sven," Aman said. "I saw the thom. He left just before I entered the hollow." Sven's eyes narrowed.
"We must get back, and quickly!"
19
A patrol marched along the top of the outer wall, their backs erect and their tails alert. Each Guardmouse carried a weapon at the ready; some brandished spears, others the more traditional sword or bow and arrow. Torches brightened every joint and intersection of the wall, marking where quivers of javelins and arrows lay waiting.
The Guardmice kept on their heavy cloaks; the rain had stopped, but the air was still uncomfortably cool. The wall lacked the usual jokes and ribbing, replaced now with curt orders followed by curter nods. They waited and executed the two orders they could: keep their eyes open and the torches lit.
Argile and Rizo sat on the long bench which lined the perimeter of Town Hall's auditorium. There they enjoyed relative privacy from the other townsmice who had taken refuge within the stone walls. Those unable to fight lay spread on bla
nkets and cushions retrieved from the cellar. Mothers held their swaddled young close; the old sat hunched on folding chairs. The children lay in hushed little groups, too scared to sleep yet too tired to do much else.
The mayor-regent squeezed his wife's shoulder and smiled. She offered up a blank stare, and then returned to twirling her crutch. He sighed: at least she had stopped crying.
Jared sat on the edge of the main stage, swinging his feet and tail in quiet contemplation. The grey-fur's brow was knit; his eyes unfocused and distant. The hunch in his back betrayed the great many thoughts weighing down upon him. Then Rizo broke the silence.
"We never told her," she said. Jared's ears perked and his eyes blinked as left his reverie. Argile reached for her paw. "And not just about the cat."
Argile searched for his diplomatic voice, but words failed him. "We did what we thought best..." Jared stared at the burgundy-wrapped matriarch, but when she looked to him he quickly lowered his head.
Rizo released her husband's grasp and hobbled over to Jared. She leaned on the stage and clasped the old mouse's paw.
"I remember the night you brought her," she whispered. "So small, the first hints of that white fur. Do you remember?"
"Yes," Jared said, still avoiding her eyes. "I remember."
"Why did we ever..." Tears threatened, and she rubbed at her face. Of all the silly... what was he looking at? Jared wasn't listening; his gaze was past her, his ears perked high. "Jared? What is it?"
Dr. Cotton had entered the room, conspicuously without an escort of Nurses. He approached Argile with his head hung low. His fur was damp and matted, and he spoke in a hushed voice.
"Argile, we need to talk."
"Is something wrong?" Argile asked. "Are the Nurses ready?"
"No, I mean yes," Cotton said. He took a deep breath and Jared perked his ears even higher. "Yes, the Nurses are ready; I've got them on rotating shifts."
"Good," Argile said. "Anything else?"
But before the doctor could answer, Jared leaped down from the stage and rushed down the center aisle. Nervous eyes followed him as he squeezed through the rows of chairs.
"Jared?" Rizo asked. Jared turned back toward the others.
"It's happening," he said, and all followed his finger toward the main door. Argile and Cotton hurried to his side; Rizo followed further behind, hobbling as fast as her crutch would allow.
Two Guardmice arrived and stopped the four at the entrance. They heard cries from outside, then the loud clang, clang of the emergency bell. Argile pushed his way forward.
"What is it? What's happening?"
"Weasels!" one of the Guardmice said. Jared tried to push his way out the door, but the other Guardmouse stopped him.
"Sir, you should stay in here where it's safe."
"Don't you sir me," Jared said, and he pushed past the Guard. He waited on the step for his eyes to adjust, and then peered over the town. Argile and the others joined him, just as a squad of Guardmice ran past with their weapons drawn. Then Jared scanned the flurry of activity on the northern wall.
"Look!" Jared shouted, pointing at a dark silhouette slithering over the wall. Another followed, then another. Gasps sounded from behind him, and then screams. Argile grabbed his wife's forearm.
"Rizo, get back inside."
The battle for Guineawick had begun.
20
"Fire!"
Arrows and javelins hailed down from the wall at Essl's command. The captain stood high at his post in the North Gate tower, and loosed an arrow of his own. Weasels clamored at the wall, more weasels than the veteran Guardmouse had ever seen before.
Essl grabbed a torch and leaned over the side. A group of the monsters charged the gate; the heavy doors creaked with each collision, but they held.
"The gate!" Essl shouted. "Don't let them batter the gate!" A flurry of arrows and javelins sailed toward the attackers, but unfortunately too many missed their mark. Essl turned to shout another order, when the snarling teeth of a weasel snapped up from behind him. The captain stumbled forward and the beast hoisted itself onto the wall.
Essl rolled onto his back and stared up at the snarling beast. An arrow struck its shoulder and the creature howled in pain. Then a javelin hit its chest and sent it back over the side. Essl pulled himself to his feet and nodded to the Guardmice who had saved him.
"Don't let them into the town!" Essl said. Terror flashed over their eyes, and Essl tried to turn, but he was too late; a claw swung out from the darkness and hit him hard in the chest. The blow sent the captain skyward and then crashing through a nearby rooftop.
Essl couldn't see what kind of room he was in, but he could see the weasel through his hole in the roof; the beast dodged the missiles fired at it, and slid down the inside of the town wall. Essl gritted his teeth and crawled toward the nearest open doorway. There he stood with his sword drawn and cursed at the pain.
"The gate!" he shouted. He tasted blood and spat. "It's trying to open the gate!"
With a loud clank, the weasel lifted the bar on the gate and pushed it open, letting in a dozen more of its screeching companions. Once inside the walls they scattered, each working destruction in different directions.
"They've breached the wall!" Essl shouted. He cursed and pointed his sword at the closest patrol. "Archers! Spread out along the wall and keep firing!" The grey-fur winced in pain, and grabbed at his ribs. His paw was damp and sticky with dark red blood. Perfect.
"The rest of you down to the street!" he shouted, and mustered his strength. "We have to trap them in the alleys! Don't let them get out into the open!"
The Guardmice hurried to obey his orders. Those already on the ground took to the chase, using their spears to steer the weasels into the narrow alleyways. Cornered, the beasts snapped and slashed at their pursuers, but the Guards' long weapons kept them at bay.
Arrows fell upon the beasts then, and those who were not killed scrambled toward the rooftops. There they met the archers again; many weasels were sent back down to their deaths.
The invaders fought nastily but were disorganized, and the Guardmice made strong strides against them. Claws struck with sword and spear; the air whistled with arrows and javelins. But despite their lack of discipline, the weasels exacted their toll: the streets were littered with the bodies of mice, Guard and civilian alike.
Essl stood among the bodies of his brethren, staring at the road stained red and black. It was all too quiet; he didn't like it. Then came a loud laugh, deep and terrible. Essl cursed yet again.
The building next to Essl smashed into splinters, sending the captain to the ground. His body ached all over, and he struggled to raise his head.
The cat stood amidst the wreckage, its nose high and proud. Essl balked at its enormity: the thom was more massive than any creature he had ever encountered.
A wall of arrows sailed toward the great white beast, but they bounced off its fur like pine needles on rocks. The thom snarled and laughed again, and with a swipe of his paw launched a band of archers up and out into the black sky.
"Pawsgaard?" the thom called. Essl struggled to stand, rising slowly and using his sword to steady himself. He followed the thom as the beast padded triumphantly toward Hamma's smithy.
Seeing the thom, the remaining weasels hissed and fought with increased ferocity. They took advantage of the fear-stricken mice, springing down on them like birds of prey. Many Guardmice fell with their eyes still following the great cat.
One weasel arrived at the smithy ahead of the thom. It pointed eagerly past the forge to Hamma's house, and hissed at its master. The thom smiled and hissed back. Essl stopped to catch his breath under the awning of a bakery.
The weasel did not see the hammer until it was too late.
From behind the beast Hamma swung, knocking the weasel down and splaying it out over the square. The blacksmith roared and brought the giant hammer down, crushing the beast's skull with the mighty blow. The Guardmice broke from their fearful stupor a
nd rallied.
"You don't frighten me cat!" Hamma shouted, and then he swung at the thom. Essl hobbled across the square and joined the Guardmice running to Hamma's aid. The hamster charged at the cat, proving himself to be a courageous, if crude, fighter.
Essl hobbled as fast as he could. Can't stop, might not get started again. A weasel landed in front of him, and he jabbed his sword into the beast's stomach. The weasel fell, and Essl rolled to avoid its claws.
But his sluggish dodge wasn't enough; three of the beast's nails raked across his back. Essl cried out in pain as he collided into a flower box and his wind was cut short.
He choked and coughed and tried to regain his breath, while the thom batted Hamma away with a strong swipe. They were losing. Until the cat had come, the battle had ebbed to the side of the Guard, if only by a tail. Now, the certainty of death filled the veteran Guardmouse, and he struggled to stand.
The thom continued toward the back of Hamma's house, and knelt down before the large window at Sven's room. Its nose flared, and Essl saw anger and confusion flash in its green eyes. The thom snarled and shouted something in the old-tongue. Then he locked eyes with Essl.
"You! Where is he?" the thom shouted, this time in low-rodent. It strutted back into the square and roared, then with claws out pinned Essl to the ground and roared again.
Essl choked and gargled, but the thom's massive frame crushed his already beaten body. Even if he wanted to answer, the thom gave him no opportunity. Essl's eyesight dimmed and his struggles stopped. But then, in the moment before the darkness claimed him, Essl thought he heard another voice.
"I'm right here," it said.
21
Sven crashed into the thom at top speed and knocked the surprised beast from its feet. The two white titans rolled together, and carried by Sven's momentum, smashed into Hamma's forge. Sven managed to kick himself away, but the cat landed directly in the fires. The monster screeched in agony and tumbled to the ground, sending hot coals in every direction.
The thom rolled on the ground and tried desperately to smother the flames licking at its fur. Sven had landed on his feet, but quickly dropped to the ground, discarding his helmet and gasping for air. Both combatants were dusted with black soot; Sven coughed and gagged as the hot ash choked him. Then, though he couldn't see and was in much pain, he began a frantic search for his lost spear.
The arrival of Sven brought renewed hope to the Guardmice of Guineawick, and they rallied once more against the weasels. But soon shouts echoed all around them, shouts that struck panic in their hearts.
"Fire! Fire!"
Sven heard the frenzied shouts to his right, and when he turned his head he spotted the glint of his spear. Blinking the blur from his eyes he rushed to regain his weapon. The hot ash had settled; what was that smell? He stopped to see what was happening.
Some of the scattered coals had crashed through the nearby shop windows. Smoke and flames coughed forth, spreading easily across the narrow alleys to the neighboring buildings. Since the Guardmice were too occupied fighting the weasels, many civilian townsmice now hurried from their safe havens to fight the growing blaze.
The slight distraction was all the thom needed; the beast pounced on Sven, knocking away the rabbit's spear. It swiped and clawed and bit, and though it could not penetrate Sven's armor, the rabbit felt the shock of each impact. He tried to return the blows, but without his spear he could do little more than try to absorb the thom's vicious attacks.
Rain began to fall, and thunder echoed in the distance. Sven struggled to defend himself, waiting for an opening. The beast laughed and roared as he continued to batter the rabbit with heavier and heavier blows. Self-doubt tickled the back of Sven's mind: their last encounter had almost been his last. How much longer he could hold out?
Lightning flashed, and he saw his opening. Sven kicked with his powerful legs, sending the cat across the square and into the town wall. The beast howled in pain; the collision had shook his minions even as it had shook the very ground. Then a cry followed, echoing from the nearby North Gate.
"For Guineawick!" Aman shouted. His party had returned, and entered with weapons at the ready.
The thom glanced nervously at the newcomers, and with a scowl opted for retreat. He leaped from building to building, heading east, and quickly vanished over the town wall. Sven uttered a pained laugh and then followed in hot pursuit.
Hope flourished in the hearts of the Guardmice, and in that moment the tide shifted one final time. They took up the cry "For Guineawick!", and joined by their brothers, made one last push against the weasels.
Abandoned by their leader and sensing the Guard's newfound zeal, the beasts panicked and began to flee. The Guard charged forth, and soon the ground was littered with the bodies of those unable, or unwilling, to escape.
The battle won, the Guardmice rallied around Aman. He took charge immediately, and began organizing the firefighting effort. He ordered mice to water lines and called for all to bring their buckets. No one questioned his authority.
As he got closer to Hamma's smithy, Aman found what remained of Essl. Aman stood at the captain's feet, directing the flurry of activity around him, when Hester and her brothers finally arrived.
"Where's Sven?" Hester asked. She saw Essl's crushed body, and quickly covered her brothers' eyes. Aman was about to answer, when they heard shouts from up toward Town Hall. Then they saw Rizo, practically tripping over her crutch.
"Hester! My boys!" she cried. Hearing her voice, the boys ran to their mother, pressing themselves into her wet fur. Argile arrived out of breath, and joined the hug.
Dr. Cotton followed, issuing orders to a swarm of Nurses. The young mice scattered out to tend the wounded and Hester and Cotton's eyes met for a brief moment. Hester couldn't place the strange expression that crossed the doctor's face, but before she could say anything, Aman ran past with Sven's spear in his paw. Sven!
The townsmice had begun to cheer, but Hester was already running toward the East Gate after Aman.
22
The Guardmice stationed at the eastern wall had just let Aman pass when Hester bolted by. Her legs and lungs burned as she ran, leaping off of the road and down through the fields. She couldn't see Aman in the stinging rain, but she had no difficulty following the thom's deep tracks.
Hester yipped as her foot snagged on a peanut vine and sent her tumbling. She splashed inside one of the thom's paw prints where the rain had collected into a shallow puddle. The soaked mouse scrambled to her feet and was soon out of the gardens, running on the grassy hills toward the Hodge.
She crested a hill and stopped to kneel on her haunches and catch her breath. She saw movement up ahead, and squinting her eyes could just make out the tall silhouettes of Sven and the thom. The two figures circled one another in a clearing only a few hillocks away. Hester took a deep breath and continued running.
The black silhouettes resolved to white as she got closer; the rain had washed away the mud and ash. She had just crested another hill when she spotted Aman at Sven's side, and could hear their shouts over the rain.
"You won't escape this time!" Sven said. "The chase is over and justice has found you." Sven held his head high. "You murdered my clan, slaughtered my family."
The thom chuckled, but then flashed a grimace of pain; his fur was stained red with blood. "I've slaughtered many families, rabbit," the monster said. He ran his tongue over his fangs then smiled, his eyes twinkling emerald in the starlight. "But I must say, I do relish the taste of young rabbit."
"I will kill you," Sven said. "I will kill you, if it's the last thing I do."
"I defeated you once before and now will be no different. You'll fail here, just as you failed to save your family." Aman pointed his sword at the beast, invoking its laughter. "I doubt your contributions will measure little one."
Hester squeezed her nails into her palms as she listened to the thom's words. She had to get closer. Moving quietly, she slid down the hillock and craw
led in the grass on her paws and knees. Up ahead the three continued their standoff: Sven brandished his spear at the thom, while Aman stood ready at the rabbit's side.
Suddenly Sven stopped, closed his eyes and spoke. "I am Sven Pawsgaard, son of Sig, son of Edgar, son of Erick." He raised his face to the rain, and taking a deep breath, began to sing. He began quietly, but his voice grew louder and louder as he sang the deeds of his family.
The song was beautiful: an ancient birthright passed down from father to son in an unbroken line. The words recalled the many triumphs of the Pawsgaard clan, and Hester's heart swayed with the rise and fall of Sven's voice. Tears came from her eyes as the high-rodent words echoed over the Greater Gardens.
The cat smirked with mild annoyance at the rabbit's warrior-song, but then something else caught Hester's notice.
She realized that the beast stood near the spot where the weasel, Lieutenant Little-Snout, had died just a few days before. Hester's heart fluttered; Sven had lowered his paw and discreetly passed his spear to Aman.
The thom's back was to the Hodge, but the cat made no acknowledgement of the river. The water ran fast with the fresh rains, but its sound was well hidden by the storm. Aman shifted slowly behind Sven, and Hester stared on in dreadful anticipation.
Finally, Sven's song came to a close. The rabbit took another deep breath, and then lowered his eyes to face the thom. "And on the banks of Hodge River, among unexpected friends, Sven did avenge his family, taking the foul beast from this world." He turned his head and looked down at Hester. "Tonight, I avenge you all," he whispered.
The thom followed Sven's eyes to Hester, and then the rabbit made his move. He charged forward, his warrior-cry ringing out for all to hear, and Aman leaped onto his back with the long silver spear thrust forward. Hester screamed.
The thom was caught off guard, and too late tried to drop to its haunches in defense. Sven tackled the beast and the two white bodies collided with a clap of thunder. Aman yelled as the spear bit deep into the beast's flesh.
The thom howled in pain, and frantically grasped onto Sven's armor. The rabbit was unable to kick free, and together the three launched into the river.
"No!" Hester shouted, and she ran to the riverbank. Sven and the thom burst up from the water, each trying to wrestle the other under the strong current. They bit and clawed at one another while also fighting to keep their own heads above the rapids.
Hester scanned the water with her eyes, when Aman burst up, pawing at the waves. Somehow he'd managed to leap free from Sven's back. "Aman!" Hester cried. He spun around, and after a hard swim grabbed onto the white reeds growing near the shoreline.
Aman gasped for breath, and Hester helped pull him out of the water. Together they watched as the current dragged away the battling titans. Then finally they disappeared, the river swallowing them whole.
Hester went to jump in after them, but Aman caught her by the waist. She yelled and struggled against him. "Let me go! Sven!"
"He's gone, Hester!" Aman shouted. She finally relented, and collapsed into his arms.
Aman held her tight while they both cried.
Epilogue
The air in Guineawick was rich with the smells of new flowers in bloom, for spring had come at last.
After so much destruction, the mice had endured a rough winter, but now with the sun shining down and the frost melting away, they had more or less returned to their regular lives.
Argile led the Town Council in restoring the buildings lost to fire and wreckage. As grief for the lost faded, the community joined together with a new sense of purpose stirring in their breasts. So then did the mice begin a great reconstruction of their little town.
Jared retired from selling reeds, and found himself at the very center of the reconstruction effort. Never before had his wisdom been so valued. His advice and counsel was gathered for nearly every project and initiative.
Hester wanted to help, but she was busy enough these days. There was a renewed interest in high-rodent, and Hester had, at Jared's encouragement, enlisted at the schoolhouse as a new teacher-in-training. She quickly found that a schoolteacher's work did not end with the final bell, and spent long evenings preparing lessons. With her new responsibilities she found precious little time to visit her old friend at "Jared's Burrow".
One particularly fine afternoon after class, Hester walked through the town square, enjoying the sun. She held a large bundle of lessons in the crook of her arm, the papers tied neatly with a bit of twine.
"Peaceful greetings, Hester," a passing childmouse said in the old tongue. Hester smiled at Emily, one of her prized students.
"Peaceful greetings, Emily," Hester said, and watched as the little girl ran back to her mother.
Hester continued her afternoon walk, when she spotted Aman up ahead. He was busy sizing up the latest recruits to the Guard, showing them the proper way to hold a spear. He caught her staring and winked at her. Hester blushed; she wasn't that self-conscious about being the only white-fur in town anymore. Aman certainly helped with that.
She had grown in many ways over the last few months, but her curiosity remained, and she could not completely abandon the many questions that had arisen during Sven's time in Guineawick. At night she often found herself puzzling over the thom's words in the bramble. She wanted to ask Dr. Cotton about his words the night of the Harvest Festival too.
But the thom was dead, and in the aftermath of the battle the doctor was a very busy mouse. More so, Cotton acted strangely humble around her, rarely meeting her eyes. When she had asked Aman for a reason, he had simply shrugged. Eventually the questions receded to the back of her mind, as she focused on her newfound work.
As for her family, though her brothers were perhaps a little less annoying, her parents had not changed one bit. Though she never fully forgave them for lying about the thom, she could not help but love them anyways. It was a time to look forward, not back.
News of the great battle had spread far and wide, sparking new interest in the town and its residents. Hester walked past a row of new shops; earlier that week some squirrels had come into the market for the first time in years. Yes, Guineawick was on its way back into prominence.
Hester strolled up the road toward Town Hall, following the sound of hammering. A giant statue stood at the top of the hill, and Hamma was hard at work putting on the final touches. Jared stood among a crowd of townsmice; Hester noticed some squirrels and even a few hamsters present as well.
"It's finished!" Hamma said, to much applause.
Hester walked up to the statue of Sven and smiled. The rabbit was cast in silver, standing tall in his armor, holding his helmet in one paw and his spear in the other. A plaque rested at his feet, and read in both tongues, common and old:
For the northern rabbit whose bravery we know,
For the stranger who gave his life for the mice of Guineawick.
For the night when the river claimed both friend and foe,
For Sven Pawsgaard, son of Sig, son of Edgar, son of Erick.
The audience eventually dispersed, and Jared gazed at the statue and at Hester. Someday, when his time came, he would pass on the title of Jared to her, as it had been passed on to him, so long ago.
Someday, he would have to tell her about her past. But not today.
He turned to leave, when he overheard two squirrels conversing nearby, and perked up his ears.
"You know," one said to the other, "I swear I've seen a rabbit with a spear just like that. Same crest on his armor and everything."
"You've never seen a white rabbit," the other said.
Jared smiled, and twitched his large round ears.
THE END
About The Author
Jon Thysell is a writer and test engineer currently living in the Pacific Northwest. When he's not writing, he plays video games with his girlfriend; sometimes she even lets him win.
Website: https://jon.thysell.us Twitter: https://twitter.com/jonthysell
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