"Hold tight, Wilbur, I'll get you back home to Uncle Homer's," Fern told him, pedaling hard through the woods, "It's not more than two miles or so this way; it shouldn't take more than five minutes to get there...boy, you've put on a lot of weight, though," she remarked, as the pig's mass was slowing her down somewhat. She glanced downward at the edge of the basket, where Charlotte was crouching, staring into the woods ahead. "You got him out of Mr. Barrens', didn't you, Charlotte?" she asked the spider with a smile, "Wilbur owes so much to..."
"Dogs, dogs, dogs!" Templeton shouted, pointing hard with his claw. And indeed, loud barking rang out in the woods right behind them. Fern turned and gasped to see at least a dozen dogs about two thousand feet behind her and closing. Moreover, the roar of truck engines could be heard behind the dogs. "Mr. Barrens doesn't give up easy...!" she lamented.
"Fern...!" Wilbur squealed out a warning as the leading dog of the pack leaped towards the basket and snapped its jaws at him, just missing and falling flat to the ground. Fern turned hard to the right to avoid another dog that was springing at them, then abruptly to the left to narrow avoid colliding with one of Barrens' trucks, which braked hard to avoid hitting her. "That pig's not yours, little girl! Give it to us or else!" the truck's driver shouted at her.
"Never!" Fern defiantly shouted back. But more trucks were squealing to a halt all around her. Within moments, they were cut off and surrounded. "Nowhere to run, girl," Barrens leaned triumphantly out the window of one of the trucks, "Hand the pig over."
"Charlotte, what do we do now!?" Wilbur worriedly asked his friend.
"Give me a minute to think this over, Wilbur..." an equally worried Charlotte furled her brow in thought.
"What's there to think about!? We surrender and stay alive, that's what! I give up!" Templeton cried in Barrens' direction, thrusting his arms over his head, "I don't know this girl at all! She and the spider are lunatics!" he pointed accusingly at Charlotte, "They ratnapped me and brought me along against my will! I'll testify to it in court; just please don't kill me...!"
"There's got to be a way out of here," Charlotte ignored him, glancing around, "Some path that we can leave them..."
"Are you that stupid, Queen Charlotte!? We dead, doomed, done for, they got us!" Templeton continued lamenting.
"Are you handing the pig over on your own, girl, or do we have to take him by force!?" Barrens dared Fern, raising the handle of his shotgun above the dashboard for her to see. Gulping, Fern nonetheless shook her head firmly. "All right, have it your way. Ed, take him!" Barrens ordered one of his men, who climbed out of the cab of another truck and advanced towards Fern and Wilbur...
...but cried out and sprawled to the ground as a brown and white blur shot right by his face. "This way!" Orville cried out towards Fern, "There's a river crossing this way; you just might make it!"
"That way, Fern; follow the eagle!" Wilbur shouted at her. Fern, whose eyes had locked in on Orville anyway and had apparently understood the eagle's intentions, nodded and quickly pedaled off before the men could recover. A few made last minute lunges towards her, but missed. "After her! Don't let that pig get away!" Barrens raged at them. "Floor it, Butch!" he demanded to his foreman at the truck's wheel.
"This isn't right, Mr. Barrens!" Butch protested vehemently, "She's just a girl; I can't endanger...!"
"GO!" Barrens thrust his shotgun against Butch's temple. Gulping, Butch pressed down on the accelerator and followed the other trucks and dogs chasing after the bicycle. Meanwhile, Fern reached the top of a hill overlooking the river...and stopped. For the crossing was a long but narrow fallen tree that spanned the river. "That's it?" she mused, worriedly, "I don't know..."
"Orville, is this really it? I don't know if we can make it across that!" Wilbur protested to the eagle, now perched on a branch over their heads.
"It's the only way," Orville shook his head, "And you'd better go now, because here they come."
He glanced backwards, where the trucks were coming at them fast. Fern, having also glanced back, took a deep nervous breath. "Hold on, Wilbur, everyone; here we go..." she told her passengers, then pushed off down the hill towards the fallen tree, slowly gaining speed. "You're crazy! We'll never make it across that!" Templeton all but screamed at her, "This is suicide, pure and simple! Mother was right, I should have stayed back at...!"
"Have faith, Templeton," Charlotte tried to console him. "We can make it."
"Because if we don't, we're doomed," Wilbur shot another worried glance backwards, where Barrens' truck was rapidly catching up to Fern's bike. "Please make it...!" the pig whimpered softly, slamming his eyes shut right before the bike reached the riverbank. Fern shot onto the tree, the bike wobbling dangerously on the narrow pathway but managing to stay upright. When she was three quarters of the way across, however, Barrens' truck roared onto the tree as well, and its weight proved too much. The tree cracked in two, sending the truck splashing into the river...and, on the other side, sending the other end of the tree tilting upwards from its stump. Fern pedaled hard, but was now fighting against gravity and slowly sliding back towards the river. "Use your feet and climb up!" Orville screeched down to her, circling overhead, "You'll have to use your feet!"
Fern, having apparently reached the same conclusion, took her feet off the pedals and quickly walked up the tree trunk until she was close enough to the far bank to jump to dry ground with the bike. "That was close. You all right, Wilbur?" she asked him with a deep sigh of relief. Wilbur oinked in affirmation. "Good. Let's keep going, then..." she climbed back aboard.
"Get back here, you!" an enraged Barrens yelled from the river, raising his shotgun towards her again. "NO!" Butch grabbed the gun and wrestled him for it, "I didn't sign up for this! I didn't join with you to shoot girls!"
"Let go of me, Butch, or you're fired!" his boss shouted.
"I quit! I wash my hands of you and this whole...!" Butch roared at him. Barrens kicked him hard in the abdomen and shoved him into the river. He took aim again, but Fern had disappeared into the trees. "Blast it!" he muttered in disgust, racing back to his truck. "Everyone, she crossed the river and she's heading for Zuckerman's!" he barked into his radio to his men while driving rapidly upstream, "All of you on the far side, cut her off at the edge of the woods!"
"Shouldn't be too much farther, Wilbur," Fern huffed, pedaling up a steep hill, "I think once we get to the top here, we should be right at the boundary of Uncle Homer's farm. Then we just put you back in your pen, and all's well. You'll be glad to be back in your web, right Charlotte?" she asked the spider. Charlotte gave a small nod of affirmation. "I'll bet. Then maybe you'll come up with an even bigger message for Wilbur..."
"We're not out of the woods yet, kiddies, in more ways than one!" Templeton shouted, hearing brakes squealing above them. Fern looked up and gasped to see more trucks braking to a stop atop the hill. Men piled out and formed a line in front of her. "Stop, right now!" one of them demanded, "Stop or we'll use force, girl, I swear it!"
"Um..." Fern slowed in shock. She glanced down at Wilbur in the bike's basket, then back up at the top of the hill-and, specifically, a large rock that was angling upwards towards them. A determined look crossed her face. "Hold on again," she told her passengers, and suddenly started pedaling faster again. A loud screech overhead made her briefly look up as Orville once more swooped directly overhead, heading straight for the men standing in front of the rock. They yelped and hit the ground to avoid having him run into them, which cleared a path for Fern. She rapidly launched off the rock as if it were a ramp, soared through the air over the stunned men and their trucks, and landed with a thud on the other side, then pushed into the adjacent cornfield, which quickly swallowed her from sight to the men. "Yes!" she declared excitedly, "And now we're back home at Uncle Homer's!" she added, recognizing the cornfield she was pedaling through now, "Just a little further, Wilbur, and we're home free," she told the pig with a smile, pumping her legs harder than ever.
"Home," Wilbur sighed happily, "It never felt so good to be back home."
"And for once, terrific old Wilbur, we're in complete agreement," Templeton nodded, leaning eagerly over the edge of the basket. Fern soon exited the cornfield onto the road to the Zuckerman farm and turned right. The barn loomed in the distance, as if beckoning them home. Within a minute, Fern skidded her bike to a stop in front of Wilbur's pen, to the cheers of the lambs and cows that were waiting at the railings for them. "We did it, Charlotte," Wilbur told the spider in relief, "We're back."
"Home sweet home...which means I've fulfilled my contract and don't have to do anything else for the pig of the hour today, so adios for now, Bacon Boy," Templeton leaped off the bike into the pen, raced under the trough, and dove down into his tunnel in a flash. Fern laughed at the haste of the rat's exit. "All right, Wilbur, let's get you back inside," she told him, hefting him out of the bike's basket, "Hello there," she greeted Sixtus, who'd approached the fence himself, "Now that I've got Wilbur back, you won't have to stay here anymore, so I'll let Uncle Homer..."
"For the last time, give me that pig, girl!" came Barrens' cold voice behind her. Sopping wet, the farmer grabbed hold of Wilbur and started pulling him away. "Let go of him!" Fern screamed, pulling Wilbur back, "He's not yours!"
"He certainly is mine now, and I have legal proof that'll hold up in any court! Now let go of him if you know what's good for you!" Barrens threatened.
"Never!" Fern shrieked, "And Wilbur's not yours; he was never yours! And I won't let you take him away from his home here so you can make money off him!"
"I'm warning you for the last time, girl, let go of my pig, or else!"
"No, never! I'd rather die than let you have him!"
"That can be arranged...!"
"Barrens!" came Mr. Zuckerman's furious shout. Barrens spun to find himself staring right into a double-barreled shotgun. "Take your hands off that pig and get away from my niece!" Mr. Zuckerman ordered the other farmer.
"Homer...this...this isn't what it looks like, really...!" Barrens stammered.
"What is this!?" Mr. Zuckerman's eyes shot back and forth between Wilbur and Sixtus in the pen, "Two Wilburs!? What's the story here, J.L., and talk fast!" he demanded.
"Um, well, Homer, I..."
There came the wail of a siren. The sheriff's cruiser was pulling up the road, followed by Mr. Arable's truck. "Fern!" the latter shouted, jumping from the cab once he'd pulled to a stop and running to his daughter, "Fern, are you all right!?"
"I am, Papa, and so's Wilbur, thankfully," Fern gestured at him on the ground. "Mr. Sheriff," she greeted him when he came striding over, "Mr. Barrens here kidnapped Wilbur; he switched him with this other pig," she gestured into the pigpen at Sixtus, "He was going to sell Wilbur to a promoter who was going to take him around the country and earn money off him..."
"She's lying Garth; you're really going to believe the words of a hysterical little girl?" Barrens pressed the sheriff, "I can get you another term easy if we can agree to just drop everything here and now..."
"Sorry, J.L., can't let you off this time," the sheriff shook his head grimly, "John here swears you practically invaded his farm and tried to shoot his daughter when she rode off with this pig," he pointed to Mr. Arable, then down at Wilbur.
"Well, it's my pig, Garth, it truly is; I can present clear documentation..."
"Forget it, Barrens, that's not going to fly," Mr. Zuckerman cut in, scowling, "I never sold you Wilbur, and made it quite clear I wouldn't, so any documentation you bring up's a forgery."
"And I've gotten reports of emaciated and sick animals that could only have come from your farm wandering around the county all day," the sheriff told Barrens sternly, "Seeing a lot of them up close, I can say I've got multiple clear cut cases of animal abuse here, besides this possible pignapping scheme. So James Leland Barrens, you're hereby under arrest for kidnapping, animal abuse..."
"This is all a big mistake, Garth, honest! Don't forget who it was who got you into office; I can bump you up to county commissioner easily if you'll just let this go!" Barrens protested desperately, "Here, I can give you fifty thousand to just let this slide for now, and I can take you as far as you want..." he dug out the money and thrust it at the sheriff.
"...and for attempting to bribe an officer of the law," the sheriff shoved Barrens' hand down with a scowl, "I may have gotten this office with your help, but I'm beholden to the law more than you or any other person. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say or do can and will..."
"Garth, please, it's my pig, I swear it!" Barrens burst into tears, "I can prove it, honest...!"
"No he can't! He ordered me to snatch Zuckerman's Famous Pig so he could profit off him, just like the girl said!" Butch leaned out the back window of the sheriff's cruiser, scowling at Barrens, "I'll tell you anything you want to know, Sheriff!"
Barrens stammered in shock. "As I was saying, J.L.," the sheriff firmly led him away, "...anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."
"I can't believe Barrens almost took Wilbur out from under us and we never even realized it," Mrs. Zuckerman said in amazement, staring with her husband and Mr. Arable at Wilbur, now safely back in his pen.
"Well, given how eager he was to buy him, I probably should have seen it sooner," Mr. Zuckerman mumbled, "But no matter. You're back home now, Wilbur, and he'll never bother you again," he rubbed Wilbur behind the ears.
"And what of this pig?" Mrs. Zuckerman turned to Sixtus, sitting in a crate on the ground behind them.
"I agreed to take him, Edith," Mr. Arable told her, "I can give him a good home. And in a way, he'll compensate for Wilbur coming here. And who knows, if you're going to keep Wilbur alive, maybe I'll do the same with this one."
"Why not? Looks like we're starting a tradition of sorts, John," Mr. Zuckerman chuckled, "We're not going to be much good at farming if we keep all our pigs alive, but we..."
A truck horn blared. "What's this now?" he mused, staring at the large truck pulling up behind them. "Can I help you gents with something?" he approached it.
"Homer L. Zuckerman?" the driver asked.
"Yep, that's me."
"We saw a sheep and some geese walking along the highway earlier today. We called in and found you'd reported them missing, so we loaded them up and brought them back for you," the driver nodded to the man in the passenger seat, who climbed out and opened the truck's back door. The old sheep galloped out, followed by the geese. "Well I'll be," Mr. Zuckerman exclaimed in delight, "I thought they were all gone for good. Welcome home, old girl," he greeted the old sheep, opening the front of her pen and shooing her inside, where she was instantly mobbed by the lambs. "Same with all of you," he told the geese, who were waddling back to their nest, "I was starting to lose hope that...my word, what else have we here?" he exclaimed, noticing another figure climbing out of the truck...
"Clem!" Wilbur gasped in delight. His dog friend, limping but alive, slowly approached the fence, where he gave the pig a relieved smile. "He was with them too," the driver explained, "And clearly he was in no shape to go out on his own..."
"I know him," Mr. Arable bent down to Clem's level, "He was fighting with Barrens' dogs while Fern and Wilbur escaped from my farm. I scared them off, or they probably would have killed him. I was going to call the vet for him, but..."
"Poor thing, he looks underfed too," Mrs. Zuckerman rubbed Clem on the back, "Well, we'll get you a good meal, boy. And do you think we can give him a good home here, Homer?" she asked her husband.
"Well I don't see why not," Mr. Zuckerman nodded, "Get him fed up to normal again, and I reckon he'll fit in just fine around here."
"More animals around here, Mr. Zuckerman?" Lurvy was approaching with slop buckets in hand.
"Looks like it, Lurvy. Give me a hand with this pig when you're done; I'm taking him back to my place," Mr. Arable asked him.
"Sure thing," Lurvy dumped Wilbur's dinner into the trough, then strained to help Mr. Arable lift up Sixtus's crate. "Goodbye, Sixtus. You're going to like it at Mr. Arable's," Wilbur called to him.
"I hope so," Sixtus called back, sounding optimistic, "Anything has to be better than where I've come from."
"It's wonderful there, trust me," Wilbur told him in parting. "Clem, so good to see you're all right," he turned to the dog with a grin, "I thought you were a goner..."
"For a moment I thought I was too. But Mr. Arable chased the other dogs away before they could finish me. He ran off before he could do anything else, but your sheep friend here gave me a lift when she and the geese decided to go back here on their own," Clem nodded towards the old sheep.
"Well we'll be glad to have you here, Clem. And as you've seen, the Zuckermans'll take real good care of you," Wilbur told him.
"Come on, boy," Mrs. Zuckerman now scooped Clem up her arms, "I'll take you inside and give you a nice warm meal, then we'll call the vet and get you fixed up nice and good."
She carried the dog away. Wilbur was relieved to see a warm smile spreading on Clem's face, realizing he had finally come home. "Fern," Mr. Arable was calling now, having loaded Sixtus aboard his truck, "Fern, time to go." He glanced down into the pigpen at Wilbur. "Amazing that she could tell Wilbur and that imposter pig apart," he mused to Mr. Zuckerman, "I'd've never guessed it in a million years."
"Neither would I, John," Mr. Zuckerman shook his head, "And so I can't help wondering...can she really understand what the animals say here?" he glanced around at all the animals in the area.
"Who knows, Homer? Who knows? Fern, come on, we're going to be late for dinner," Mr. Arable called again. Fern came running from the direction of the rope swing. "Coming, Papa. Is Wilbur all right?" she bent down to the pig's level to rub his head.
"Never better, Fern. And he's going to be a bigger star soon, because I'm going to take him to the county fair in September," Mr. Zuckerman told her, "I'll make the announcement to the public the next time they come, but so you know, I'm aiming to try and win a big prize with him."
"That's great, Uncle Homer," Fern exclaimed, "And Henry'll be there too, he told me earlier today, so we can enjoy the fair together too..."
"I'm sure. Well, don't forget Henry's bike there," Mr. Arable told his daughter, a wry smile in his eyes at the mention of Henry. Fern picked it up and carried it towards her father's truck. "Good night, Wilbur, glad you're all right," she waved to him in parting.
"Have a good night, Fern, John," Mr. Zuckerman waved goodbye as the Arables drove away, followed by the big truck. "Well, guess it's back to work again," he mused out loud, "Lurvy, go get the pitchforks when you're done; we're overdue to clean out the cows' stables," he called to his hired hand down by the tool shed. "Have a good night, Wilbur," he scratched the pig behind the ears, "Good to have you home."
He sauntered off, whistling. Wilbur exhaled loudly. "Yes, it's great to really, truly be home," he said softly.
"Welcome home, Wilbur!" the goslings all rushed his pen and embraced him as one. "Good to see all of you again too," Wilbur smiled at them, "And thank you for coming for me as well-both you and your parents," he turned the smile to the goose and gander outside.
"It was the least we could do for you Wilbur," the gander nodded, "You're as much a member of our family-amily-amily here as our children."
"And it was fun to go out and save the day while getting to see the world," the largest gosling boasted, "And we did it all as a family too," he grinned at his parents.
"Indeed we did, Samuel, indeed we did," his mother nodded, "Some day, when you have goslings of your own, this will be a wonderful-onderful-onderful story for you to tell to them."
"Sounds like a story we'd all love to hear too," one of the cows leaned around the corner, amused.
"Well, you see, after we went down the road, we all went into the woods, and we marched all night long," another gosling spoke up proudly, "Then this really big cat came and almost ate..."
"Well, there'll be plenty-enty-enty of time to tell that in the morning," the gander interrupted, "Right now, Albert and his siblings have to eat, and then get a good night's sleep."
"But the sun's not even down yet, Father!" a third gosling protested, pointing at the sun, which was low in the sky but not yet at the horizon.
"Now surely you're all hungry-ungry-ungry after a long couple of days away from here. If I..."
"What's that!?" cried one of the lambs, jumping behind the old sheep at the sight of a figure swooping down towards the barnyard. It was, however, just Orville, who came to a landing on the top railing of Wilbur's pen. "So, Zuckerman's Famous Pig is home at last," he smiled down at the pig.
"Sure am. And thanks for your help too, Orville," Wilbur thanked him. "Everyone, this is Orville, he helped the others break me out of Barrens' farm and get me back here," he told the other residents of the barn, who were staring in amazement at the wild newcomer.
"Well, the primary thanks to Miss Cavatica up there; she masterminded the whole thing," Orville stared up at Charlotte, making repairs to her web in the dusky light, "And I'm glad you talked me into coming to help you, Miss Cavatica," he told her, "I used to think it wasn't the prerogative of wild animals such as myself to help domestics, but I feel I've done a big service to help get Wilbur back here safely."
"And we couldn't have done it without you, Orville. So let me thank you as well," Charlotte called back to him. The eagle grinned at the large RADIANT in the web. "It's just as beautiful as I heard it was," he mused softly, "Well, keep it up, Miss Cavatica; I reckon you'll have this pig saved for good real soon. Well, best be on my way, then," he shifted around on the post to prepare for takeoff.
"Will I ever see you again, Orville?" Wilbur asked him.
"Look up in the sky on a sunny day. You just might see me checking in," Orville told him with a cryptic grin before taking off and flapping away into the setting sun. "Goodbye," Wilbur bid the eagle farewell, then eagerly approached his trough...
"Uh uh uh," Templeton scampered along the top of the trough and glared right in the pig's face, "For all the misery I got put through trying to save you, oh radiant Wilbur, I eat first here, and you don't until I'm done. It's all fair compensation as I see it."
"Templeton, we may not be the best of friends, but thank you for everything you did for me," Wilbur told the rat as he started gulping down the slop.
"Like I said before, big boy, I did it because I hate Barrens, because I certainly don't like you," Templeton snapped between bites.
"Oh I think you do, Templeton," Jeffrey approached the trough with a grin, "I think you do care for Wilbur deep down."
"Well you're delusional, you little Christmas dinner; Wilbur never has and never will mean anything to me. And another thing on that note, your Excellency," Templeton spun to face Charlotte in her web, "You've had your fun making me your indentured servant, but this was the absolute last time I do anything for you and/or Wilbur. No matter what bait you try and dangle in front of me from here on, the answer will be a resounding no, and nothing will talk me out of it. I am done, you hear me, done."
"Nice to know, Templeton. So when it's time to for Wilbur to go to the fair, I'll see how you feel then," Charlotte said with a wry grin.
"I said no, no way, no how, and nothing will change that. Well, good night, one and all, as I have a normal life I want to get back to," Templeton leaped off the trough and turned towards his tunnel with his nose in the air. And yet, Wilbur thought he saw the rat give what looked like a sympathetic backwards glance towards him before disappearing down the tunnel. Or perhaps, on the other hand, it had been an illusion due to the shadows under the trough. But he didn't care. "Maybe you're right," he grinned at Jeffrey, "Maybe deep down he does care a little bit even though he'd never say it."
"I think he does," the gosling grinned at the tunnel entrance, "Let me have some of your food too, Wilbur."
"One meal fit for a gosling, coming right up," Wilbur lifted his small friend up to the trough and let Jeffrey take a few bites. "Here," he grabbed an apple core from the trough in his mouth after having set the gosling back down, "Go long and catch it."
Jeffrey obligingly raced down the length of the pen. Wilbur flung the apple core towards him, which Jeffrey tried to catch in his wings, but it bonked him on the head instead, making the lambs burst into laughter next door. "All right, Jeffrey, time for bed," the goose called to him from the fence, herding the rest of his siblings out towards the nest, "You can play with Wilbur first thing in the morning-orning-orning."
"But it's still not sunset yet, Mother..."
"Go on; I promise we'll start first thing tomorrow after the sun rises," Wilbur told the gosling.
"Oh, all right. Sleep well, Wilbur," Jeffrey gave him a goodbye hug, then followed the other goslings back to the nest. "Have a wonderful evening, Wilbur," the goose bade him goodnight as well, sitting down on top of her children and yawning, "You gave us all an adventure-enture-enture we'll never forget."
"But of course, the best part of any adventure is coming home," the gander added, sitting down next to his wife and tucking his head under his wing. Wilbur nodded and walked back to the trough to finish the rest of his meal. He then retreated to the barn's doorway and sat down on the ground. "Thank you for everything, Charlotte," he smiled up to the spider, whose web glistened in the light of the setting sun above him, "I'd've never seen this place again if you hadn't come after me. You really are the best friend a pig, or anyone, really, could have."
"And you're the best friend a spider could have too, Wilbur," Charlotte told him, taking a munch out of a hornet that had blundered into the web while she'd been gone, "You deserve to live a full and happy life, and this was part of me making sure of it."
Almost subconsciously, she lowered herself down on a thread onto Wilbur's nose. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" she told him, staring at the setting sun with him, "There are times in this world you just have to sit back and appreciate how beautiful so much of life is..."
"I've realized that too, Charlotte. It's just so wonderful to be alive right now," Wilbur exhaled in delight, "I wish I could just freeze what I have right now at this very moment, and never have anything change again."
"I wish I could too, Wilbur, but that's not how life works, unfortunately. Change is always permanent, paradoxical as that may sound," the spider remarked with a melancholy sigh of her own.
"Promise you'll always be with me, Charlotte. I can't imagine life without you anymore, so promise me," Wilbur begged her. Charlotte sighed again, shaking her head glumly. Wilbur," she began slowly, "do you see the stars?" she pointed at the first stars blinking into sight in the twilight sky.
"Yes. Why?"
"Well, Wilbur, those stars live for millions, if not billions, of years. But eventually, they have to die out too. All living things do. But out of the remains of those stars, new stars form and live their own lives. So although the original star is gone for good, it still lives on through its offspring."
"What are you saying, Charlotte?" the pig was confused.
"Some day, Wilbur, in the not too distant future, I won't be here physically anymore. But don't worry, because even when I'm gone, I'll always be with you. Just remember that," she patted his nose softly, "Whenever you feel down, just think of me, and I'll be there for you. Because I know deep down you're going to live a full and happy life. And even if I'm not there personally, I will be there with you in spirit the whole way. Don't ever forget that Wilbur. I will always be with you, that I do promise."
"Thank you, Charlotte," Wilbur smiled, watching the sun sink down under the horizon with his best friend, thrilled deep down at how lucky he was to have such a loyal friend-and, as he'd said, how good it definitely felt to be alive.
THE END