"Eulalia! Tis death on the wind! Eulalia!"
So bellowed Rockjaw Grang, as with one last leap, the mighty hare crashed into the throng of attacking vermin, and swung his spear bravely through them. Even as he went under, surrounded and utterly outnumbered, he never stopped swinging the spear around, taking down as many rats and weasels as possibly could be reached at that moment. Seconds later, the brave and noble creature felt the swords stab him in his stomach and his shoulder, and collapsed to the ground, as the disgruntled servants of Warfang stood, gazing at the remains of their comrades.
...
Cold.
It was... cold.
He opened his eyes.
He saw the shattered remains of his spear lying among the bodies of the vermin. He vaugely thought to ask Major Perigold to give him a much more sturdier one (Wot wot.), when he noticed the limp body also lying beside the spear.
He tried to speak, but found that he couldn't. As he frowned, he noticed there was a small footpath leading up to the edge of the vermin's camp. He was sure, no, certain it hadn't been there a moment ago when he had been- Well, he couldn't exactly dwell on that as of yet and keep his calm composure.
He had the strangest feeling that he had to walk forward towards that footpath. So, putting one paw in front of the other, he started. As he did so, worry flew through his mind. Had Tammo got away? Did Midge? That squirrel chap with the twitchy tail? Where they even now beginning to march on Damug? Would he be meeting any of his friends soon?
As he walked, he noticed that his wounds were... well, not there. Maybe it was the imagination, after all the Sgt had always said that a healthy imagination could be a little hindrance in battle, but he was pretty sure that his legs and arms felt as fresh as he was when he had been a mere leveret.
At last he made it to the top of the camp. He gazed down and felt himself go dumb with shock.
There stood three badger lords, each one tall, proud, wearing armour that made them look as though they had come fresh from slaughter.
The first, one who Rockjaw remembered seeing in pictures as Lord Brocktree, spoke loud, and yet gentle "Welcome Rockjaw. We've been waiting for you."
The second, Boar the Fighter, added "It is time for you to join your fellow hares and we, you have done well, you are a perilous creature indeed."
The third, the hare remembered him as the one before Cregga Rose Eyes (Orlando .the Axe was it now?), calmly pointed towards a set of gates that he was sure hadn't been there before.
"Go on, the last walk."
Without knowing it, the hare walked on and on, up towards the gates and pushed through.
He saw.
He saw the past, of mice battling rats, foxes and wildcats. He saw hares and badgers taking down vermin with great haste.
He saw the present, Major Perigold gathering his forces and Damug marching out to take the abbey.
He saw the future, all those who were coming through the gate, and he saw more vermin, more mice, more hares.
And then he saw a little badger babe.
And he didn't know why, but his voice rang out.
He couldn't remember the words now, his head was getting warmer.
No, it was... clearer.
Stepping onwards, he saw every member of the Long Patrol who had died, every hare who had seen Salamandastron and given their lives to defend it, cheering at him and rushing forward to greet him.
And Rockjaw Grang, smiling through his tears, stepped into Dark Forest, from one life into the next.