She was old. The once smooth, sandy fur had faded to gray and was crossed with the scars of many battles. The strong, clean limbs were twisted and crippled by rheumatism. Twayblade could still remember the day that the leverets had noticed that she no longer seemed as sunny and gay, that her eyes were somehow less bright, her demeanor less cheerful. At first they had merely reminded themselves that any beast who had survived the Battle of the Ridge of A Thousand was entitled to be a bit … off, and shrugged away her melancholy. Twayblade felt no reason to tell them, any of them, the truth. Not her friends, the dear members of her patrol, not even her brother had the right to know that Twayblade had become old in the space of a single day. She had entered the Great Battle on that long ago day with but a single thought in her mind; to die, for it was only in death that she could be reunited with that one.
She could remember their first meeting, when they had both been new, green recruits. She had been on patrol on the upper slopes of the mountain when her paw had slipped on some loose scree and she had gone tumbling, ears over scut, down the steep slope. The enormous young hare had caught her, hauling her to safety, standing her upright, dusting her off.
Ye took a wee tumble there, lass. Ah'd be glad t'aid ye t'the infirmary, if'n ye need any help.
She had merely shaken her head, dazed.
Oh, don't fuss. It was only a little stumble; I rather think that I can manage the infirmary on my own, wot?
She had started off down the corridor, but she only made it a few paces before she collapsed. The big hare had caught her and winked at her.
Oh, aye. Ah ken that ye can make it t'the infirmary alone, but mayhaps ah should see that ye reach it i' one piece.
The idea that he was gone, that he had been gone for many seasons was still hard to comprehend. Twayblade heard his deep, booming laughter in the thundering surf, saw his crooked smile in the stars at night, felt his breath in every summer breeze. He had become so much a part of her that she was always surprised to find that the creature she had been carrying on such a pleasant conversation with wasn't there. She had never allowed anyone to see her cry for the big hare who had sacrificed his life to give them the information they had needed to defeat the Rapscallion horde.
And now on this winter's night, with the sea hissing and booming over icy pebbles and a frigid wind keening against the mountain slopes, she could feel herself wandering. She felt like she was two different creatures; both the crippled old hare in the bed, and the pretty maid she'd once been. She closed both sets of her eyes and imagined that the warmth of the fire was his, the weight of the coverlet the pressure of his paw on hers. That light draught would be him brushing a paw over her head-fur; that pressure against her lips would be …
Her eyes flew open. There was nothing there, nothing in the small chamber to cause that sensation. She heard a deep chuckle, like the boom of the sea. Hesitantly, she raised one shaking paw, gently settling it against the face that she knew, knew, could not be there. She felt him smile against her paw. His scent wrapped around her, faded from many seasons, but still recognizable, still his. She closed her eyes and let her paw trace the familiar contours of his rugged face. He was here.
She threw her arms around him with all the strength left in her frail body, sobbing into the soft fur of his neck. He held her tightly, like he'd never let go and lay down on the bed beside her.
Why? Why did you have to leave me? she whispered into the darkness.
Ah had to, lass. 'Twas mah destiny. Ah never wanted t'leave ye, Twayblade.
You'll have to go again, won't you?
The dead can nae remain wi' th' livin', lass.
I missed you …
Ah ken. Ah've been keepin' watch over ye, lass.
What's the Dark Forest like?
Ah dinnae ken, mah love. Ah've only seen th' gate.
Really? Why?
Only those who're at peace may enter th' Forest. Th' Gatekeeper would nae let me in.
You weren't at peace? Why not?
She felt him smile again, and he rocked her back and forth like a babe in her mother's arms.
Ah could nae enter, b'cause ah had unfinished business here, lass. Ah had t' make sure tha' Russano claimed his mountain. And ah had t' watch o'er ye.
I'm sorry you had to wait so long. I tried to follow you, but somehow I always survived the battles. I hope you weren't lonely.
Nah. Russa an th' old badger kept me comp'ny 'till Russano grew up. And Martin's been checkin' up on me since then. There're all sorts o' interestin' beasties a' the Gates.
He placed a gentle kiss between her ears.
It's time, mah love. Are ye ready?
Twayblade nodded and smiled, allowing him to pull her into his arms, just as he had on the day they met. The sensation of being frail and elderly faded away until just the young haremaid remained. She could see him as well as feel him, now, and she laughed for joy.
Oh, Rockjaw, I've been ready for a long time, now.
Big Rockjaw Grang laughed too, and spun her around in his joy.
In tha' case, mah love, wha' are we waitin' for?