Melania clutched Rodan tightly to her, her arms wrapped around the sleeping squirrelbabe. She couldn't go on running. She simply couldn't. For two days, she'd had no rest as she, Naila, Arulan, Sye, and Dinka had stumbled through Mossflower, searching for a safe haven, the rest of the moles who'd scattered after that terrible ambush in the ditch. Since they'd lost Raya, Naila had said little. Melania could see the hollow look in her eyes. She'd lost her husband, the home that they'd given her, and now her daughter as well. Naila's eyes were hollow. Lost.

Melania realized that their chances of finding the moles or a safe place in Mossflower grew slimmer each day. Rivan's vermin were everywhere, combing Mossflower Wood in search of those who'd escaped the battle at Redwall. They'd had a narrow escape from three arctic foxes only an hour ago. The vermin were everywhere, and Melania felt her hope of escape grow fainter and fainter with each passing hour.

The squirrel mother was resigned to the fact that Oakan was either dead or searching for them; what else could keep him away? But she couldn't think of Oakan now, she reminded herself. She had to take care of all of the young ones and Naila. Dinka was dependable, but he was only one beast, and Naila was helpful, but her mind was elsewhere.

She couldn't do it. Thoughts of the slaughter that had taken place were burned into her memories forever. Worry for Tura, Marian, Skipper, and all of the others who'd remained at Redwall made her almost sick to the stomach. It was as if a low, constant throbbing pain had settled between her ribs, as if the warmth of her heart had broken and cast spears of ice through her.

Twilight was falling over Mossflower, the sky slowly growing rosy and pale red-pink as the sun cast its rays across Mossflower Wood. According to the map she'd taken from Redwall, they'd be nearing the ford at the edge of the River Moss. If they continued on their present course, in less than a week they'd reach the sea.

And then what? Melania wasn't sure. Maybe they could seek shelter at Salamandastron. Or, if they reunited with the remnants of Foremole's mole group or the ottercrew, they could, perhaps, take on Rivan Fireclaw with help from the Long Patrol and take back Redwall Abbey.

But Melania knew it was almost hopeless. Soon Rivan would be entrenched in his fortress, with nearly a thousand vermin soldiers under his command. The Long Patrol could perhaps muster half of that to take him on, and this time he'd have the advantage of defense.

Right now, you just have to think of safety, Melania thought to herself. Safety, nothing more.

She turned to look at Sye, who was near tears, as she had been for two days, and even the bold squirrelmaid Arulan, though she tried to appear brave, looked fearful as well. Naila simply stared into space. The loss of Raya had seemingly broken her.

Suddenly, Melania heard a tramping coming nearer. Her heart caught in her throat. While they'd tried to avoid the main roads, she realized the path was only a few miles from here.

Sye and Arulan immediately raced for cover, and Melania grabbed Naila by the arm and was half-dragging her into the bushes when she heard a voice.

"I say, wot! Too many of these bally blinkin' vermin around here for mah taste. It's worrisome, see'n' the blighters get so close to the h'abbey, no?"

Melania almost fainted from relief. Racing toward the pathway, she suddenly saw herself surrounded by about twenty hares, led by a tall hare in a colonel's uniform. Seeing her Abbey habit, his eyes softened in concern as he regarded the band of fugitives.

"I say, wot do we have 'ere?" the hare in the lead asked. Seeing Melania's expression, he said, "There's no need to fear anything, wot! Ah'm Tirian of the Long Patrol, that's Colonel Redblade to you, and these are mah loyal hares. Wot brings Redwallers here, to this neck 'o the wood?"

All at once, the entire story of Redwall's fall seemed to spill from Melania as she told of the defeat of Redwall at the hands of Rivan Fireclaw. Tirian's face began to shift from surprised to horrified and finally to grim acceptance.

"I have nearly a hundred fighting hares about two day's march from here," said Tirian, his voice filled with grim acceptance at Redwall's fate. "Would these be enough to take on Fireclaw?"

"I don't see how you could," said Melania, despairingly. "Even if Skipper and his ottercrew still hold Redwall, there are vermin scouring the woods for us, and Rivan would have time to prepare a defense. He's got catapults, siege towers, and other weapons. He'd kill all of your hares."

"How many vermin does the blighter 'ave with him?" asked Tirian incredulously. "One Long Patrol hare is usually a match for two vermin."

"I'd say about a thousand, give or take a few," said Melania. "Redwall didn't have a chance."

Tirian's eyes grew so wide he looked almost comical to Melania, as though his eyes were about to burst from his skull. "We'll have to find the other escapees from Redwall you mentioned," he said. "The other moles, mice, and squirrels who fled. You say most of the order were taken?"

"Almost all of the brothers and sisters who didn't evacuate were killed or captured by Rivan," Melania confirmed, her voice thick with despair. Redwall- the Abbey that had endured for countless seasons against the might of vermin warlords- conquered by the ferret Rivan Fireclaw!

Tirian saw the tears pooling in her eyes, as well as those in Sye's and Naila's. Dinka's head was bowed, and Arulan gulped down a sob as they relived the carnage.

"Now, now," the hare said, in a surprisingly comforting tone for such a long-time military member. "You're safe now, and that's what matters. We'll get you back to the rest of our patrol division in no time and round up all of those who escaped Redwall. Then we'll get you back to Salamandastron and give this Rivan Fireclaw the Salamandastron greeting!"

"No one will go anywhere, fugitives."

Melania, Naila, and the others whirled around at once. Tirian cursed under his breath. He shouldn't have allowed the conversation to distract him from the combat. Already he could see vermin emerging from the woodlands around them, every one armed to the teeth with weaponry. Many were arctic foxes and minks, and all bore the insignia of the Twisting Flame, making it clear that they belonged to the horde of Fireclaw.

In their lead was the weasel, the general known as Scythe. The Long Patrol hares were outnumbered nearly two to one. Tirian met Scythe's gaze, and the weasel returned it fearlessly.

Melania's heart froze. She realized this trap had taken hours to set, and was fiendishly cunning. She knew, and Tirian knew, that the only way they'd escape was if they fought their way out. She could hear Rodan give a small whimper.

"Greetings, hares of the Long Patrol," said Scythe, his voice low and almost metallic. "Our quarrel is not with you, but with these fugitives who fled the justice of my master, Rivan Fireclaw. Hand the Redwallers over to us and you are free to go in peace."

Tirian stared deep into Scythe's black eyes. "If you think we'll surrender, you've got the bally wrong impression of the Long Patrol, wot wot! We of the Patrol are old allies of Redwall, and we're not going tah agree to the demands of some upstart warlord Rivan Firewhatishisface. Surely you know that, sah!"

"Are you sure?" asked Scythe. "We are the new rulers of Redwall Abbey, you know. It would be wise to accede to our demands."

"Perhaps you didn't get the blinkin' message the first time, weaselface," said Tirian, anger for the plight of the trapped hares and Redwallers caused by his own oversight rising within him. "Maybe this'll make it clearer to you."

Drawing his scimitar and charging at Scythe, Tirian Redblade yelled out the time-honored cry of badgers and hares as his blade slammed against Scythe's with the force of a thunderbolt.

"Eulaliaaaaaaa!"

Scythe only narrowly managed to deflect the blow. The weasel commander was fast, but Tirian was faster. The weasel's curved sickle-sword only narrowly fended off two strikes from Tirian's sabre as the rest of his vermin charged into the battle.

Melania looked around wildly, clutching Rodan tightly to her. The entire clearing had exploded into battle, but all she could hear was his quiet cries of fear. She had to get him out of here, quickly.

Meanwhile, Tirian and Scythe were locked in mortal combat, Scythe fighting with a shield in one hand, his sickle in the other. Tirian only had a buckler and his sword, but nevertheless he seemed to be prevailing against the weasel captain. Finally, Tirian managed to bring down his blade in a cutting arc which tore the sickle from Scythe's hands.

Tirian stared at the weasel contemptuously. Then he charged, ready to deal a finishing blow.

But Scythe was ready. As Melania was about to shout a warning, Scythe grabbed a sword from a fallen rat, hurling it at Tirian. Tirian leapt aside, and a ferret fell instead, the sword striking him on the side of the head. Scythe snatched a second weapon, a wicked-looking spear, and staggered backward, away from Tirian's ferocious onslaught.

Tirian charged at Scythe, but all at once the weasel was surrounded by several vermin. As Tirian charged toward the vermin guards, hacking them apart with easy strokes from his long curved sabre, Naila suddenly spotted the danger. A warning was torn from the throats of all the beasts as Scythe lifted his javelin, aiming for Tirian.

"Watch out!" Melania yelled, and suddenly Scythe seemed to notice her.

Seeing Rodan held tightly in her hands, Scythe snarled, "The Seeker!"

Suddenly Melania felt as though she'd been stuck by a heavy weight, and the next thing she knew she was on the ground. She didn't feel hurt- that was what surprised her the most. Instead she merely felt numb, and her breath came in short gasps. Thus she was almost surprised to see Scythe's javelin protruding from her body. Rodan was safe, but she could hear his startled scream as they fell.

Melania could already feel the world slipping away. She knew that Scythe's javelin had passed almost through her, and that she held no hope of survival. But, as she held the crying form of Rodan tightly in her arms, she knew she had to make sure of one last thing. One thing, before she was free to go.

She opened her eyes. The world was blurred all around her, and her breath was ragged, barely there. She could make out the forms of Naila and Tirian Redblade standing over her prone body, their faces swimming before her eyes. It was like staring at them from beneath a well.

"My son…" Melania whispered. With the last of her strength, she managed a final breath. "Take him to Salamandastron. Take care of him."

Then she closed her eyes, and eternity claimed her.