"...It was two seasons later that I came back an' there was snow. I walked through the forest an' it was falling; it had been falling for some time. I saw me own pawprints. I had never seen 'em likes that before, marks in the whiteness which were vanishing even as I looked at 'em. I walked through the woods until I came to the place where the vermin scum had gathered to arrest him, an' there was ice hanging from the tree branches an' drifting snow. I ken see now that it was nothing, those flakes falling an' the little banks an' ridges of snow where the wind had carried it, but to me it was a miracle of purity. The whiteness came likes healing, came across the dread an' the sight of the dead grass an' leaves from last fall an' the dreams, the many dreams I had been having. I had dreamed of him so often an' I had longed to see him one more time, but I did not admit this to the others. I did not even tell me pater. I told nobeast where I was going that day, an' I knew in me heart that I would not see him. I had to tell him, though, I had to stand on the ground where 'e had been taken from me an' I had to whisper his name, into the wind if need be, into nothing. I would expect nothing an' see nothing, but I would talk to him an' if I had to cry 'e would not mind. It had come to seem bad form to mourn after all the glory an' all we had been given, after all the fire. I did not entrust me forbidden sorrow to anybeast, foolishly perhaps, for now I know they would have understood, but on that day I was still clinging to me youngbeasthood by a whisker. I walked alone under the mysterious brightness of the trees that bore the fruit of snow, little burdens falling on me shoulder, flurries of white, of dampness running down me. I did not reach me location, but stood within sight of it. It was there I stayed. I could not walk further. Summat took hold of me an' it was as if a voice said 'stay.' I could not go on. I wanted to, but I knew it was not asked of me at that time. All I had to do was stay there in the falling snow, an' watch the curtain of flakes sweeping all across the woodlands. I stood there until me pawprints were obliterated. I did not need to whisper his name, for 'e was there."
Hares had heard the story and had come in to listen. The old harewife looked up and around at the small crowd that had gathered. One, a harewife as old as the storyteller, came forwards. "Ah," she said, "I remember those seasons meself."
"They were unforgettable times, eh, Hannah?" the storyteller said.
"That they were, Tamar," Hannah chuckled.
"What?" one of the leverets asked. "You mean the story was really true?"
"Of course it was true, ye rascal," Tamar reached out and cuffed the young leveret on the ear. "I was there."
"So were I and my siblings," Hannah said.
"What happened to the disciples?" a leveret asked.
"They split up into groups of two and went separate ways, carrying the gospel with them to their different species," Tamar said. "Simon Peter and Andrew started a holt. It was different from any other holt because the otters who were members of it weren't necessarily all flesh and blood family, but were family in Christ. Thomas and Matthew started the Christian Union of Shrews in Mossflower, or Cuosim. They're like the Guosim except they're Christians. The hedgehogs James and John stayed together as did the moles Phillip and Bartholomew and the squirrels James and Simon. Thaddeus went off alone. We hares, of course, came here to Salamandastron. All the different branches are flourishing."
"What about Haver, Emet, Ha-or Tov, Isaac, and Sarah?" another leveret asked.
"Haver, Emet, and Ha-or Tov settled in Mossflower," Tamar said. "Isaac went to Magdala, where he became Micah's successor when the old mouse passed on. Isaac took over his grandfather's business and travels all over the place doing business. He travels down to Redwall and Mossflower to visit his family frequently. Sarah stayed at Redwall with her mother, who became the leader of the Redwall Abbey Church. When Miriam passed away, she was buried at Redwall and Sarah took over. She married Martin's son, Luke, and they had a daughter."
"What about the rats?" a third leveret asked. "Since they both ended up living with Gingivere and his family, they must have met, right?"
Tamar nodded. "Malchus and Lucia fell in love, got married, and Malchus adopted Martina," she said. "They lived with Gingivere and his family in the farmhouse. The descendants of both families still live there."
"Did anybeast else of the original group have young ones?" a fourth asked.
Tamar nodded, "We all did, except the ones too old to have young ones like Cleopas or had decided to remain single for one reason or another like the Brothers and Sisters at the Abbey. All the different groups have descendants of some disciple or follower in their midst." She looked down at a young haremaid with a smile. "Right, missie?"
The young haremaid smiled back, "Right, Grandma," she said.
Tamar yawned suddenly. "Oh, dear," she said. "I think it's time for me nap. Run along, now."
Hannah shepherded the other hares out of Tamar's room. "Sleep well, friend," she said just before closing the door.
Tamar smiled and, as she drifted off to sleep, she could hear a voice say, "Good job, my young friend."
"Thank you, Lord," she murmured.
