Martin felt his footpaws touch the ground and found himself in a forest. It wasn't Mossflower, but it seemed very familiar even so. It was if the very air was enchanted. He walked along through serene woodlands quiet and high in the sun-warmed afternoon. It was a forest as old as time, with a special feel about it, cool in the dark green shade, carpeted with a many flowered floor, shafted with golden rays casting their light on fern and bush. Velvety green moss was soft under his footpaws, and melodious birdsong was the only sound to filter through the variegated canopy of emerald and viridian green.

Martin himself felt older, no longer like a Dibbun. He now felt like a young adult creature. Stronger. More aware of the warrior spirit that dwelled inside him.

Suddenly, he saw it. A conical timeworn monolithic stone. He recognized it from before. He slowly walked around it and looked down.

He could see the land dip down into a huge valley. Small thatched rooftops could be seen here and there. An aura of time forgotten hung over the beautiful scene. The softly colored patches of flower gardens mixed with the unmarked boundaries of brightly hued orchards, while the light and sparkle of a stream cascaded into full bloom of a waterfall below.

"Noonvale," he said softly to himself. Why was he here? How could he go down there and meet whoever-it-was when it had been the home of… Martin shook himself to get rid of the memories. Suddenly the most beautiful voice he could ever remember rang out in song…

"You will find me at Noonvale on the side of a hill

When the summer is peaceful and high,

There where streamlets meander the valley is still,

'Neath the blue of a calm cloudless sky…"

That voice. It was so familiar. The song, too. He walked down into the valley, following the sound of it.

"Look for me at dawning when the earth is asleep.

Till each dewdrop is kissed by the day,

'Neath the rowan and alder a vigil I'll keep,

Every moment that you are away…"

He followed the sound to a pair of trees at the edge of the village. One a rowan. The other an alder. The branches intertwined, forming a canopy overhead. The stream flowed behind them.

Between the two trees, under the canopy, was a mousemaid. She was turned away from him, towards the stream. Martin stood behind her and listened as she sang the last verse, knowing at last who he was to meet. Wanting to savor the sound of her voice in song.

"The old earth gently turns as the seasons change slowly.

All the flowers and leaves born to wane.

Hear my song o'er the lea, like the wind soft and lowly.

Oh, please come back to Noonvale again."

Into the silence Martin spoke one word. "Rose?"

Rose whirled around and, when she saw Martin, smiled. "Martin. You have come." She walked up to him and, suddenly, embraced him. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, Rose. More than you'll ever know," Martin said, hugging her back.

Rose suddenly pulled away and ran a paw over his headfur. "It's grey," she commented.

Martin was, for the second time around her, thunderstruck. He couldn't do much but stare. She was exactly as he remembered—more beautiful, really, for his last memory of her had been of her broken body thrown against the wall by Badrang. He stood before her, silent, until her beautiful hazel eyes narrowed and her lips crept up mischievously.

"Martin." She almost giggled. "Have you forgotten so fast how I looked?"

Martin swallowed, "I never forgot that," he said. He hesitated for a moment, and then admitted, "Except right after I fought Tsarmina the wildcat. But I had forgotten everything then, and my memory of you was one of the first to come back."

Rose touched the side of his face lightly and warmth spread through his body. She gestured to the village.

"Noonvale," she said, "That was my choice. My home. The place of my past. Where all my dreams of the future lay." She paused and smiled. "Dreams that involved you. Even before I knew your name."

"My wishes of how things could have been involved you and Noonvale, too," Martin said. He took her paws in his. "I love you, Laterose."

"And I love you, Martin the Warrior," Rose responded, "With all my heart." Then she laughed her summer-breeze-among-bluebells laugh and said, "It sure took you a long time to tell me."

Martin rolled his eyes, "Yeah," he said, "but there was something preventing me from doing that."

They walked over to a place nearer the river and sat down together. Martin wanted to tell her everything he had seen, everything that had happened. He wanted to ask her about every little thing and every big thing, too. Yet he had no idea where to begin.

"You did this, too?" he finally asked. "You met five creatures?"

She nodded.

"A different five creatures," he said.

She nodded again.

"And they explained everything?" Martin asked. "And it made a difference?"

She smiled. "All the difference." She touched his face on the scar the Gawtrybe leader had left. "And then I waited for you."

He studied her eyes. Her smile. He still couldn't quite believe they were together again. Then he did something he had always wanted to do.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Since Rose was his second creature, he didn't know how long two creatures were allowed to stay together. But he wanted to have the most time he could—and he was granted it. Days went by, always sunny ones, followed by starlit nights. They wandered through Noonvale, talking. Martin told her all about Redwall, and about the friends he had made. Rose told him of how she wished she could see it, explaining that one could not keep track of those they loved unless they were given the status of a Guardian and allowed to come and go as they pleased. She never had because that was reserved for creatures who wanted to watch over a certain group of creatures or a certain location. Martin knew he would eventually try for this position so he could keep watch over Redwall Abbey.

Finally, on their last day together, he and Rose were sitting together in the grass when she suddenly turned to him. "There was a reason to what happened, you know," she said.

"What reason?" he asked. "How could there be a reason? You were killed. You were no older than me at the time. You were the best creature I knew, and you died and you lost everything. And I lost everything. I lost the only mousemaid I ever loved."

She took his paws in hers. "No you didn't. I was right here. And you loved me anyway. Lost love is still love, Martin. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or play with their fur or dance with them. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your mate. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end. Love doesn't."

"I never wanted anybeast else," Martin said quietly.

"I know," she said.

"I was still in love with you," he said.

"I know," she nodded. "I felt it."

"Here?" he asked.

"Even here," she said, smiling. "That's how strong lost love can be."

Martin leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I don't want to go on. I want to stay here."

Rose turned her head and they kissed. When Martin pulled away, he could still feel Rose's lips on his, but she was gone, and so was everything else.