IT'S DONE! I want to thank everyone who has read the story, and especially to those who have reviewed as well. I wouldn't have been able to get anywhere if it wasn't for the constructive criticism and advice people have given me. Last chapter, hope you all enjoyed! This one was really fun to write, I've got to say. Like I said, a lot of the characters are based on me or people I know. So for those of you still wondering about the last chapter, here you go! Season of the Archer, the epilogue.
Autumn had descended over Mossflower, whisking away the green and freshness of summer with every shade of red and brown one could think of. The trees were shedding their leaves like a blanket, turning the earth into a matrix of hues. A few puffy rain clouds were gently rolling across the sky, but they wouldn't begin their drenching for at least a day. For the moment, the sun still shone above their heads, the kind of afternoon that made everybeast lazy as could be and want to stay inside with a nice plate of scones.
As luck would have it, that was what most of the abbey-dwellers were doing. They had just finished another long day of cleaning, scrubbing away the memory and stench of the vermin who had long since left. Most of them had simply fled in the attack, realizing their leader was dead and no hope was left. But that still left their atrocious stench and living conditions behind.
Grace and Raylim had done what they needed to. Sneaking past the few guards, they had freed the residents of Redwall and told them what was going on. They were quick to action, even though many were not fighters. Most of the otters, a few squirrels, and even a few other creatures all grabbed whatever weapons they could and broke out, quickly overwhelming the vermin after they saw their leader fall.
The Great Hall was buzzing with activity as the dibbuns played and enjoyed themselves, while the older beasts sat down with a fine tankard of October ale, or elderberry wine. The golden sunlight of another late fall day was glinting through the windows as the last workers came inside, wiping sweat from their brows and quickly finding a place among their friends.
Grace managed to squeeze in next to Raylim, who had just finished digging a new plot for strawberries. Handing him a beaker of cranberry cordial, she laughed as he chugged it down in one gulp. "Slow down, or you might get a stomachache and I'd have to send you to the infirmary!"
He feigned a grimace, holding up his paws. "Oh, please spare me! Anything but the infirmary! Speaking of which, doesn't a certain beast need supper? Some of the kitchen workers said they'd give him the first batch, since he's been healing so well."
Grace nodded, getting up from the bench. "I suppose I could do that, even though all he's been doing it laying about all day." She caught a look from her friend. "Oh, you know I'm only joking! He needs his rest. I'll bring him some food."
After speaking with a few of the kitchen beasts, she started upstairs with a tray full of potato and leek soup, scones, and a few cheese slices. They were fresh from the wheel, only cut that day.
Knocking on a door quietly, she entered the infirmary room. Only one of the beds was taken, just a few away from the door. The mouse lying on the clean white linen had a bandage running around his head, and also wrapped around his left leg. There was another one under his shirt, which Grace checked before handing him the food. "Your chest wound seems to be healing well. How about that leg?"
Tamor nodded as he took a bite of the cheese. "It feels fine, thanks to you." He smiled, trying to flutter his eyelashes a bit.
Grace laughed and shook her head. "Flattery won't get you out of this bed any sooner. You heard the sisters, no moving out of that mattress for another week."
Groaning like a dibbun who couldn't get his dessert, Tamor crossed his arms testily. "I'm fine, honest! I can move both my legs, and my chest has been healed for almost two weeks. Are you sure I can't go downstairs to eat?"
Smiling, Grace kissed his forehead which promptly sent a rush of color into his cheeks. "No, you can't. But," She sat down on the edge of the bed, plucking a scone off the tray. "I suppose I could eat up here, if that's alright with you?"
Tamor couldn't stop the small smile that spread over his face. "I suppose that'd be alright." After a moment of silence, he looked back up. "Thank you, Grace. It can get lonely up here."
She rubbed his paw and smiled. "Of course, Tamor. Do you mind if I ask you something?"
Taking a bite of a scone, he shrugged. "Not at all."
"Do you remember..." She shifted a little; obviously apprehensive to ask whatever it was she wanted to. "Do you remember what you said that night you fought Bloodfang, before you almost- I mean, before you fell unconscious?"
He nodded, the memory actually sending a tingle through the scars on his leg and chest. "Yes."
Grace twiddled her paws and stared at the floor. "Did you...did you mean it?"
Tamor was silent for a moment, before setting his food aside and grasping her paw in his. "I did, with all my heart."
Their eyes met, and before he could say anything, she kissed him. Not just a simple peck, but a real, bonding symbol of trust. Leaning back, Grace couldn't help but smile at the look of astonishment on his face. "Thank you," she whispered.
Tamor tried to respond, but was having trouble speaking with the flood of emotions and thoughts running through his head. Finally, he was able to murmur. "You're welcome."
They sat in awkward silence for a little while before Grace noticed the strip of cloth he had tied around his wrist. "What is that?" She asked, fingering the rough canvas.
Untying it, Tamor held up the small picture of Tamdril, clutching his swords and pointing onward. "It's my father," he said, smiling. "I still can't believe..." his voice drifted off.
"Can't believe what?"
He blinked away a tear. "I was living in shame and dishonor my entire life, Grace. Now that I know what I am, what I was always destined to become, it's like a weight is off my chest. I've done what my father tasked to me."
Grace knew she didn't have to say anything, so she simply stood and gave him another small kiss before walking out of the infirmary, closing the door gently behind her. Tamor gazed at the cloth one more time before folding and clutching it tightly. "Thank you, father." He said, looking out of the window and staring at the golden forest lay before him
Tamor closed his eyes briefly, opening them after a single tear fell from one. He was not shamed; he was not one to disgrace his family and heritage.
He was a warrior, he was an archer.
An archer of the east.
