"Right, now this is essential, young Creusa," Percy prompted the young otter controlling the steering handle. "I want you t'ease yer way over to the left bank....good, that's it....Now y'see that liddle inlet yonder? When I say go, you shoot up in there. Got me?"

The pretty Creusa nodded, already concentrating hard on the wheel. "I'm on it, skip. Ready when you are."

Persimmon held up a stocky arm, bobbing it in a count. "Awright, one... two... three.... NOW, CREUSA, NOW!" he bellowed. She wrenched the wheel sharply to the left, straining to keep it steady. The boat rocked and jolted heavily. The wolves clung to the deck, trying not to unleash their sickness. Bryn Mawr and Kelso, however, were at the helm, a brilliant, adventuresome expression on their faces.

"Steady her now, young 'un, steady!" Bryn roared. "We're come out've th'fall's rip spate!" With a rebounding shudder, the boat suddenly seemed to come to a standstill. Bocton lifted his head up cautiously.

"What happened?" he asked, still queasy from the rough current they'd been experiencing the nearer to the Drop they'd come.

"We're in a canal," Sheryl explained excitedly, "built so that boats could travel as close to Mohaercrest as they could without going of the edge of the cliffs. I left during the inception ceremony. And look how close it is! I can see home! I can see it!"

"Well, this is what you came for," Osric said doubtfully. "Better we go and see if it's hollow or whatnot." The boarding plank was lowered onto the shore, and the party gratefully staggered onto still ground. The ferryotters were looking to Persimmon with questions and directions plainly written. He read them well, and addressed the wolves.

"Do you need us from here on out? 'Cause if there's no defendin' t'be done, we'll be on our way back to Corbridge an' Cele Veltryn shortly."

Sheryl chose her words carefully. "We thank you very much for you generosity, Percy. But we have no ideas as to what lies behind the walls of the abbey. There may be some sort of siege or attack on it, or something may have happened to one of the members of the community. Any who wish to come and see and find out are much more than welcome: guests always are at Mohaercrest. I will probably be staying on here at home: whatever happens to our friends the Gaels is determinate only by them." Percy nodded, thinking it over.

"An' what is it you wolves're gonna be doin' after all this?"

"Any one of us can tell ye in a heartbeat, sir!" Craig answered fiercely. "We're headin' west to Leedsdown, to avenge the greatest misdeed ever done in the land! Anyone with a love for justice and a brave heart is more than needed for th'task!"

"Well then, if that's your mission, any o' my ferrybeasts is free to go with yeh," Percy announced. "Those who don't'll help me round up fighters for yeh. When is it you'll be facin' off th'Widowmaker?"

"At the full moon," Rivenna breathed, suddenly aware of how close the battle would be. "At the next full moon, we duel. And those left alive will have a great story of love and fire to tell their grandchildren."

Percy bowed his head solemnly. "So be it."

* * *

Shang strode sourly to the front of her silently assembled army. "We have some allies to make, Winterchildren! We must crush these petty rebels as totally as possible!" she shrieked. "Do you remember the far east lands of our old home in the north, my children? Tell me, what is there?"

"Graschtentukg, Widowmaker!" a captain at the head obediently replied, a bit shakily. Shang simpered, and glowed.

"Yes, and in Graschtentukg live monsters no Leedsdowner could have ever imagined in nightmares caused by us!" Poe's face drained as she questioned her leader.

"Surely you don't mean--the Ezrennes, m'lady?" Shang threw up her paws ornately, like a soap-box preacher.

"Imagine it! Wolverines against the wolves! They'll be puny compared to those beasts, and their slaughtered blood will be like ice melting in the spring!" Her bright green eyes lit up at the prospect. "Imagine it, troops, imagine it!" Her army obeyed, and shuddered at the thought: for it was a well-known, proven fact that wolverines ate their slain enemies.

* * *

At first glance, the thin veils that Tatyanna and Anastasia held over their faces were simply decorative, but the simple truth was that Odo Serrabin stank. The leader of the local clan of wolverines in the area sat slouched over the table, his hulking back hideously humped and deformed. His menacing teeth overlapped his lips, jutting out in slimy yellowed knives. His small black eyes scanned over Shang's proposal: he made harsh snuffling noises as he read it.

"Smmmm, as much ploonder as we want, mmmmmmmsnch! killin' a-plenty--what sizable rebel army be this? Hmmmmmmscnawch! An' a reward for heads: Tori Rubyhaer -- what kind of fear does a name like that inspire? -- especially. Huhhhh, the one who brings back her pelt gets a third of the reapin's." He lifted up his misshapen head and looked at the two dainty vixen. "Pretty damsels yoo are," he drooled hungrily. "You included in the loot?"

"Sir," Tatyanna replied curtly, "we are messengers, and the daughters of the cruelest warlady in the north. We have destroyed cities, massacred thousands, and killed all that lie in our path. One more remark like that from you, and we will not hesitate to add you to our ever-growing list."

Odo glared sulkily at her, muttering wistful curses. "Svein!" he roared, slobber flying around the tent. Another wolverine hustled forward. "Put mah mark on this," he ordered roughly, shoving him close. "Tell our people our famine is soon to end!"

Anastasia smiled evilly. "Your people will grow tired of all the meat you will soon have, Odo. You have chosen well." The attendant Svein stamped a roughly-hewn seal of a wolverine's silhouette on the treaty. He took the time to grin at the two foxes, and lick his lips. The famine, if indeed it would be as these bargainers had promised, would be ending very quickly.

* * *

Tori's troops were quickly developing a following. Word had spread throughout the northlands quickly. All over, those who lived in the riverside hamlets, the steppe farmhouses, and towns found arms and sought out the legendary Rubyhaer. The twenty or so wolves and Redwallers they'd left the abbey far to the south with had increased twofold by the time they were midway through the taiga between Loch Imnal and the Forest of Dale. They were eager to mingle with all the great warriors of the day, flocking to have roadside conversations with Aelfwald of Aiyar, Sarthe the Danehearted, and Michael and Llawder of famed Redwall. Strangely enough, not many recognized Tori. She learned from the newcomers who would walk alongside her that they had heard she wore a sword nine lengths long and an ornate set of gold-plated armor. She was a head and a half taller than even Sarthe, and she sang to her enemies while she sliced them to pieces. She chuckled at the bloodthirsty legends that two sisters, Marared and Perennial Fiortin, were telling her, asking where to find the great fighting princess.

"I haven't seen anyone even remotely fitting that description," Marared was saying gloomily, struggling just a little under both her pike and her bow and quiver of arrows. "My friend Siwan told me she was a red brighter than a sunset, and had eyes as green as emeralds in a summer glade."

"Really? An emerald in a summer glade?" Tori repeated. "Hmm, I haven't heard that one before."

"Siwan is bit of an exaggerator, though," Perennial reminded her sister. "She also told us that Shang Widowmaker has wolverines in her army now, serving as mercenaries." Tori stiffened a bit, for she had heard that too: from Raven, her chief scout. She disregarded that, however, and asked another question.

"How is it you know so much about Rubyhaer?"

"Oh, our friend Siwan knows this other wolf, Boxer, who's gotten t'be friends with Tori's sweetheart John O'Lennain. He told him all that over a campfire." Tori suddenly burst out laughing. Perennial looked at Marared.

"What did you say do get that?"

Through her laughs, Tori managed to say, "Oh, it's just that John would say that to new recruits. He's that kind of creature, you see. Heeheeheehee! Ohhh, that's a scream! Hahahaa!" She took a breath to try and banish the chortles while she wanted to speak. "You see, Tori's never even been in battle. She's quite small, actually: a midget next to those great huge Gaels. She hasn't used a weapon in nine seasons' time, and she thinks armor is a waste of good metal!"

"And how do you know all this?" Perennial questioned, paws akimbo.

Tori chuckled. "Ohh, let's just say I know her very well. 'Scuse me: I have a few words to say to my sweetheart." She slipped away, yelling in comical rage, "JOHHN!" Perennial blanched, and turned to her sister.

"You know who that was? Marared, that was Tori!"

Marared gasped, and put a paw to her agape mouth. "Oh my gosh! Fates 'n' seasons, I hope we haven't offended her!" Then, after a chagrined pause, she added fearfully, "I hope no one tells anyone!"

* * *

John looked over his shoulder at the short red figure pushing her way through the ranks, shouting his name. "Uh-oh, here comes trouble," he playfully muttered to a newfound fellow smartmouth, Boxer.

"John! I can't believe you!" Tori called, slapping his arms with a rag she'd found beside the road.

"Ahhh! Oww! Mercy, mercy, Tori, I didn't mean it!" he howled in mock pain. The Rubyhaer continued with her imaginary flaying, and berated him mercilessly.

"Taller than Sarthe, eh? I sing to my enemies while I chop 'em up with my nine-lengths long sword?! What is it I sing, Johnny boy, something by you to put 'em in more agony?"

"Ooooo," Boxer grinned, "that was heartless!!"

"That," Paul said, keeping his voice low as he watched Tori chase John through the gaps in the army, "is why I don't want a woman of my own!" He grinned, and elbowed the young Boxer knowingly. "I wouldn't be surprised if John here finds 'imself a married househusband when this is all over! Somebody's gotta be good at takin' orders in a marriage, and it certainly won't be her!"

"Oh, certainly, of course not." Boxer jibed, winking. "She's a princess!"

Suddenly, another figure was pushing roughly through the crowds, panting, calling "Tori! Tori! Lass! There's an army up ahead, directly in front of us! They're marchin' due west: we'll hit 'em any minute!" It was Raven: she was panicky, but somehow managed to keep her voice steady. The entire column suddenly tensed: Tori stopped her escapade immediately and turned to her messenger.

"Is it Shang?"

Raven nodded. "Just a forward party, but it's sizable!" Tori was immediately in control: she turned to Gowran, panting,

"Call a signal to arms: skirmish likely at any given moment." The large-lunged wolf nodded, eyes wide, and thundered,

"Veltryn gafted rar nantepta! Enemy army straight ahead! Man yourselves! Arm yourselves! A battle is coming! Toyda!" A clanking sound rippled through the army as the steel of the fighters ousted themselves: the sun glared off the weapons as the new legions set themselves grimly for their first encounter with the enemy.

* * *

Corbann cursed as he saw more creatures running towards the assaulters. "Hell's teeth, don't Morpeth an' 'is folks know whin Ah told 'em t'attack a wall? Damned imbeciles, cain't they foller a simple order?!" He leaned down in the ditch next to Reamer, who looked quite the worse for wear. His skin was beginning to sag, and his eyes were bleary and crusted. He shivered constantly, and couldn't keep his meager ration of food down. Corbann disregarded his condition and kicked him cruelly. "Garn! Git o'er to Morpeth an' tell 'im t'grow some brains! Shang might've thawt 'ee 'ad sumthin', but whate'er she saw ain't there no more!"

Reamer pitifully crawled from under Corbann's harassing footpaws. "Please, boss, no more," he pleaded weakly, trying to snake his way away. Corbann snarled, and ran off, deciding that if one wanted something done right, they've gotta do it themselves.

Corbann and his renegades had begun bombarding the half-finished walls since before dawn yesterday. The surprised abbey mice had been slow in retaliation: the coyotes had already succeeded in breaching a wall, but had then had to contend with fierce otters and a huge badger. There they were falling, but not quickly. Corbann had lost about three fighters on the wall, but he urged them to continue.

Now Morpeth, a superb officer in Shang's army, was bungling! The coyote had been ordered to go around to the side and get in through the unfinished wall. He was running toward his leader, however, followed by about nine others. Corbann frowned: he didn't remember sending that many with Morpeth....

"There he is!" the lead figure yelled. "Aaaaiiiiyaaaarrrr!!! Get 'im, mates!"

Enemies! Where had they come from?!?! Corbann turned tail and fled for cover, little knowing that he had some of the swiftest wolves of the Gaelic peoples on his feet. He leapt into the ditch he'd been in just a moment before, tripping over Reamer. He was about to give the clod a taste of his sword, but the coyote was dead, and swelling quickly, bleeding from his eyes, ears and nose. Baahhh, he hadn't time to worry about him. Corbann found Hexlor, another officer, standing behind him.

"Help me faht these wackos, frind Hexlor," he ordered, drawing his scimitar.

Hexlor nodded, drawing an arrow to his bow. "Raht, Corb'n. Ah'm awn et." Corbann patted him gratefully on the shoulder.

"Ah knew Ah cud trust yew. Hold hard, bruthuh." He crept away to amass and rally his few fellow malcontents.

Hexlor was about to fire his weapon when an blue-feathered arrow shot into his paw, pinning it to the clay wall behind him. It was soon followed with a well-aimed dagger to the other, which left him crucified in the ditch. Shocked at the sudden turn of events, he could only gape to the top of the trench to see the perpetrator.

Osric stumbled into view, pressing his deadened paw against the spot on his belly where Hexlor's own arrow had misfired into. The Leedsdown prisoner coughed momentarily, and then turned to look at his captive. "So, Hexlor, we meet again," he smiled grimly. He switched paws on his wound, and held out his dead hand, dripping his own blood. "Remember this? And remember my home?" He sat down slowly, groaning and holding his stomach gingerly. Then he sighed, and looked at Hexlor. "We used to have a saying in Leedsdown, that justice follows on the heels of every wrongdoer, and once he pauses to look at his crimes and gloat, she strikes." Osric smiled, and Hexlor's face drained in horror as the wolf picked up a stray piece of glass from the shattered windows of the abbey, made so by the coyotes' ballista. "Well, justice just happens to be male today. It's nice to finally be meeting you!"

* * *

The coyotes were soon routed as the experienced Gaels set about to rounding them up and slaying the would-be highwaymen. Corbann watched from the shadows in the trench, quivering. His plan had gone desperately wrong. His troops had been decimated, his plans and great dreams wiped out. He glanced tentatively down at his feet. The bodies of mangled Hexlor, bloated Reamer, and a wolf lay by silently, staring into bare space. An idea began to form as he morbidly stared at Reamer's distended corpse. Telling himself that he'd be taking a thorough bath when he escape, he lifted up Reamer gingerly in his arms. Creeping towards the ballista at the top of the ditch, he carefully lay the carcass in the expellant. He looked around fearfully: good; no one around to see him cut the rope to toss the body. He slunk up the wall of the trench.

* * *

Rivenna was trying to administer to Bryn. The fearless vindicator had plunged into the small battle with her all, taking down most of the coyotes. But the bravery had taken its toll, and now Sheryl, Rivenna, Dysart, and Gandreth were gathered around her as she deliriously began to speak.

She gazed tenderly at Dysart, who was crying shamelessly as he held her paw. "Bryn, hold on, please," he pleaded. "Breathe, honey, breathe..."

"Shh, shh..." she hushed, and stroked his face. "Well, I sure will be missin' thee, lad, an' I'll be waitin' for ye to join me sometime. But don't you hurry: take y'time an' live. Eternity is a long while, and we'll only be waitin' shortly..." She sighed, a content smile on her battered features. "Concentrate on livin', and don't ever give up or let down y'guard." Weakly, she raised a paw and pointed behind them. "Like there. Look, lads, look."

Corbann was awkwardly sprawled over the ballista, furiously trying to sever the rope to release it. With lightening reflexes, Rivenna suddenly whipped out a knife and hurled it at the small catapult.

Her aim was true: the hemp was snapped instantaneously. With a shocked expression on his black face, Corbann was hurtled through the air, clutching Reamer's body. He hung in midair for a brief second, and then fell, landing with a dull thwack on the abbey ramparts, and sliding onto the battlement walls.

Bryn nodded approvingly. "Nice..sho....tt....." She smiled, and slipped away.

* * *

The little tundra village of Blacksod sheltered them for the night, treating their wounds and helping with burial of the few dead. Tori sat on the edge of a bed, shaking with fury.

"Thirteen dead. Thirteen. We lost Marared, Grensade, Ronin, Nora--"

"Tori, stop tormentin' yerself," Paul advised gently. "We'll make Shang pay dearly for them, and when Rivenna gets back, she'll as likely give those foxes such hell they'll sing about it for centuries after this."

Tori hung her head, not listening. Nora had been so brave at the end. Tori had never seen such an intense fighter as a hare in all her born days. With her wild war cry of "Eulaliaaaaaaaaaa!!", the flamboyant showgirl had been cast off, and a hard-eyed pike hare had emerged. By golly she'd taken a few with her! Through tears, Tori managed a shade of a smile, recalling Nora's last triumphant whoop. It had drifted over all the other sounds of fighting, carrying through the air like a great bell.

"Eulaliaaaaa!!!! Tell Antisle I did 'im proud, Chester! C'mon, you rotters, come to me! Snapdragons're king's o'th'skyyyy!!!!!!"

Rivenna's tall father had been the last one to die. Sustaining irrecoverable wounds, he lifted himself up from the place where he'd fallen and charged into the last of the foxes, wielding his huge sword and howling terrifyingly. He'd butchered the final remnants of the group, calling aloud the names of every friend he'd ever known slain by the cruel white foxes. When things became hopeless, he continued on bravely to the end, shouting his wife's name and telling her not to despair. "Ossian!" was the last word to leave his lips before being drowned in a deluge of fox carcasses.

We will not forget you, friends, Tori promised, squeezing out a tear. We will never forget.

* * *

"Mena," Rivenna said quietly to Bocton. "Some Northdogs up ahead."

"Veltryn Diatrybe?" Bocton asked, squinting at the muscular creatures flickering in between the firelight at the camp up ahead.

Rivenna nodded. "Samoyeds, Huskies, maybe. Or Spitzen, it's hard t'tell."

"Let's approach them, FeGnodfia," Owen suggested.

Rivenna took a breath, and strode forward.

The rollicking Huskies, fiercely blue-eyed and proud of their steel, silenced themselves when they saw the small spearheaders venturing towards them. Bristling with animosity, they let the strangers come within twenty feet of them before a huge male howled madly and leapt in front of them, barring the way between the two parties.

"Who be thee?" he questioned with a slight snarl. "We don't welcome foreigners on our land without good reason."

Rivenna spread her paws diplomatically. "An' a good reason we give thee, friend. We journey on our way t'join Tori Rubyhaer fight foxes, a common enemy."

The Husky regarded her suspiciously. "Tori Rubyhaer I've heard of, but vaguely. Who be you, then? Your name I should know?"

A harsh tundra breeze whipped across the steppe. The wolf endured it bravely, a determined glint in her eye. "Rivenna Dyfedfinne, a Gael from Aiyar and proud t'fight ye t'prove it!"

The Northdog chuckled. "Fight me for et, will yeh? Any true Farnorder knows our weapons are withstood by nothin'."

"Aye, so they are, dog," the purple-black wolf challenged, "and everybeast in all th'Northlands knows that we Gaels never walk away from a livin' enemy."

The members of Veltryn Diatrybe Hus waited voicelessly behind their leader as he and the strange, dark-colored outsider face off with glares. Rivenna and the Northdog stood stonily, staring at each other with the confidence of true warriors.

"If yer not for us you're agin us," Rivenna growled, lowering her head, "so either let us pass through and go an' join yer mistress the vixen Shang, or give your restless fighters a chance t'flex their muscles."

The Northdog straightened, and offered a thick paw. "Then flexin' we'll be, for there's been too much unsettled peace 'ere since Leedsdown were destroyed!" he vowed. "Aberyn Whitehall, Krydag o' th'Hus people."

Rivenna thrust out her paw to meet his. "Then 'tis good t'know thy name, friend Aberyn, for I'll be callin' it in thanks when the ground by th'sea is littered with foxes!"

* * *

The rolling hills just below the foxes' Badlands appeared to ripple gently as the grass meekly followed the wind. Tori's bright red fur stood out plainly against the low, ponderous gray clouds: not for nothing was she called Rubyhaer.

The land looked desolate and empty. The only souls the Tyne princess saw where the five score followers behind her, from Tundralake, Aiyar, and Redwall. To her left, John squinted his eyes and shielded them with a paw, watching a few wolves approach from the distance.

"I see someone. Looks t'be Aelfwald's niece." Tori nodded, keeping her eyes on the shapes moving closer and closer.

The four figures surmounted the barren hills between the two parties, and finally made contact. Rivenna smiled and dipped her head slightly in a greeting.

"Tis good t'see yer battered face again, Rubyhaer."

"Aye," Tori replied, noting the absence of the six others. "Much better to see you again, though, Blackbirdberry." She motioned toward Owen, Samhain, and Bocton standing quietly to the side. "Are these the only ones who made it back?"

The big Gael shook her head, "We had to leave poor Osric and Craig at the Abbey, but they're both alive an' recoverin' well from what I hear," she lied.

"What about the others, though? Where are they?"

Rivenna giggled. "Aw, coom now, Tori. Surely y'di'n't think I'd coom through an area and not raise ye a soldjer or two here an' there." The purple-black wolf turned to the hills behind her and waved a paw, yelling cheerfully, "Show yersel's, lads!"

Tori's jaw literally dropped in shock. In an instant, the hills were teeming with wolves, Northdogs, otters, hares, and even ---could it be?! --vermin-- weasels, stoats, ferrets, pine marten... Colorful banners were hoisted into the air, and glitter of many pikes, swords, javelins, arrows, and other weapons was like a sunburst. Rivenna nodded slowly, commenting lightly,

"A fair number. Tho' if'n we'da gotten all th'Gaels of Aiyar ye'd have a movin' city there. But a modest nine hundred or so more able an' willin' creatures, ready t'help yer crusade."

The princess was truly lost for words. She compensated with a fierce hug. The Gael, at least a head taller than Tori, smiled modestly. "Aw, thank 'ee kindly, miss, but we can't stand here all day. Now you go take these eager beasts and avenge your poor fam'ly."

* * *

"You were not telling me things this afternoon. Not in front of our fighters. What happened, Rivenna?"

The Gael had known that Tori would ask that question for a long time, and had spent time preparing her answer.

"Well, Sheryl stayed behind at Mohaercrest. After a battle with some rogue coyotes, a plague came upon the creatures. Luckily, it was a common affliction in the south, where Sheryl was. She cured the abbey without a death from disease in it. She told me she might go back to Redwall some day to learn more from Sister Joan, but the abbeybeasts constantly marvel at her healing skills, so I believe that she knows not just how much she was taught at Redwall."

"And what of Osric and Craig? They were not with you."

"Osric and Craig were killed in the battle."

"I see," Tori said sadly. "A shame."

Rivenna bobbed her head in agreement. After a pause, she broke the silence with, "We're supposed t'be 'avin' a great party tonight, aren't we? For morale, is it?"

"Yes," Tori nodded. "It's in an old holidayer's lodge on Imnal's eastern shore. Why?" Rivenna spoke, her eyes cast to the floor.

"There's somethin' I need t'finish."

* * *

The lodge was well concealed, and much of the sound coming from within was safely muffled. Inside, the atmosphere was wild. The keys of the old upright piano inside would soon become hot with constant playing. Right now, Tori was drawing hoots, whistles, and cheers as she felt a bit of her Leedsdown night escapades at the nightclubs in Abergavenny District with her naughty composition "Leather," which the Gaels would tease her about for days to come.

"Look, I'm standing naked before you, don't you want more than my sex?
I can scream as loud as your last one, but I can't claim innocence.

Oh, God, could it be the weather? Oh, God, why am I here?
If, love, isn't forever, and it's not the weather, hand me my leather...!

I could just pretend that you love me, the night would lose all sense of fear.
But why do I need you to love me, when you can't hold what I hold here?

Oh, God, could it be the weather? Oh, God, why am I here?
If, love, isn't forever, and it's not the weather, hand me my leather!"

She delved into a heavy piano solo, from which she emerged grinning, and she sang sultrily on.

"I almost ran over an angel, he had a, nice big fat cigar.
'In a sense,' he said 'you're a alone here, so if you jump, you'd best jump far....'

Oh, God, could it be the weather? Oh, God, why am I here?
If, love, isn't forever, and it's not the weather, hand me my leather!
Ya dai dai, ya dai dai, da de da, h-yai-laaiii......."

Soon she shouted for quiet, hushing the rowdy crowds before her. "I think you guys are getting a little too ribald. This is a really special occasion: you need some depressing." Eagerly, her audience leaned forward as Tori revealed her reclusive piano goddess personality. In the shadows behind her, Dyfed cut through the darkness with a plaintive violin. Tori's voice crackled around the lodge as they soberly listened to her ballad.

"In my platforms, I hit the floor. Fell face down, and didn't help my brain out.
Then the baby came before I found, the magic how, to keep her happy.
I never was the fantasy, of what you want-wanted me, to beee.......

Don't judge me so harsh, little girl. So you got a playboy mommy....
But when you tell 'em my name, you want across that bridge all on your own.
Little girl, they'll do you no harm because they know, your playboy mommy.
But when you tell 'em my name: from here to Birmingham, I got a few friends.

"I never was there, was there when it counts. Forget my way, you're so like me.
You seemed ashamed, ashamed that I was, a good friends of the Gaelic soldier.
I'll say it loud, here by your grave: those angels can't ever take my place...

Don't judge me so harsh, little girl. You got a playboy mommy.
But when you tell them my name, now,
You want across that bridge all on your own. Little girl, they'll do you no harm
Because they know, your playboy mommy.
But you just tell 'em my name. You tell 'em my name: I got a few friends....."

She was storytelling now: everyone in the room felt their throats lump, for they knew this scenario all too well. Tori had her eyes closed as she played on: suddenly, like a sob, she sang,

"Somewhere, where the orchids grow, I can't find those church bells,
That played when you died, played, 'Gloria.' Talkin' 'bout Hosannah......

Don't judge me so harsh, little girl. You got a playboy mommy, come home!
But when you tell them soldiers my name, and cross that bridge
All on your own, little girl, they'll do you no harm 'cause they know,
Your playboy mommyyyyy....
But, I'll be home, I'll be home,
to take you, in my, arrrrrrrmmmss......."

The hush following the tale was broken by another piano chord. Tori was at her instrument, John perched on a stool in the background with a guitar, while Rivenna stood tall and straight center stage. The Gaels straightened with seriousness: this was the formal apology and rectification for her temporary exile. The song was taken very gravely: Aelfwald and Adia listened closely as the purple-black wolf began to sing with aching bittersweetness,

"Adia, I do believe I've failed you. Adia, I know I've let you down.
Don't you know I tried so hard, to love you in my waayyyy....
It's easy, let it gooooo................

Adia, I've missed you since you left me, tryin' to find a way to carry on.
I searched myself and everyone, to see where we went wrong.
There's no one left to finger, there's no one here to blame.
There's no one left to talk to, honey, an' there ain't no one to buy our innocence,

'Cause we are born, innocent.
Believe me, Adia, we are still, innocent.
It's easy, we are faltered. Does it matter?

Adia, I thought that we could make it. I know I can't change the way you feel.
I leave you with my misery, a friend that won't betray.
To pull you from your tower, to take away the pain.
I'd show you all the beauty you possess, if you'd only let yourself believe,

That we are born, innocent.
Believe me Adia, we are still, innocent.
It's easy, we are faltered. Does it matter?"

In the silence that came after her illumination, Adia arose and bowed.

"Thank you, Rivenna. You are welcome here again, and you have most definately proved yourself." The Gael smiled through her tears, and asked chokingly,

"Gnodfe, how about a song from yerself? No voice 'o mine could ever compare t'yours." Adia grinned at the offer.

"It's been fair seasons since I've done that! All right, lass, prepare for a lesson!" Encouraging cheers arose for their cheiftan's co-ruler, and Adia arose. She waited for silence after discussing something quickly with Tori. She cleared her throat: the air was instantly still.

"Jacob's heart bent with fear, like a bow with death for its arrow.
In vain, he searched for the final truth, to set his soul free of doubt.
Over the mountains he walked, with his head bent searching for reasons.
Then he called out to the skies, for help, and climbed to the top of a hill.

Wind swept the sunlight through the wheatfields.
In the orchard, the nightingale saaaaaang,
While the plums, that she broke with her brown beak,
Tomorrow would turn into songs.....

Then she flew up through the rain, with the sun silver-bright on her feathers.
Jacob put back his frowns, and sighed, and walked back down the hill.
'He doesn't answer me, and he never will.'"

Sitting in the dusky backstage, John nudged Paul. "What about us, eh? We can't just them 'ave all th'fun. What'll y'say we hit 'em with?"

Paul considered, his head tilted to one side. " 'Mr Kite,' I think. Or maybe 'Sgt. Pepper's' an' such. Or how about somethin' oldie but goldie?"

"I've got it," John decided. " 'Please Mr. Postman.' 'Member that one?"

Paul nodded slowly. "Yeah..." he agreed, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Alright, let's get Ringo an' Noel."

The night wore on, giving way to the glow of dawn and early morning. Noel stood talking with Rivenna dazedly, absently holding a glass of early cider.

"You were really beautiful back there," he told her.

She half-smiled, and blushed, ever so slightly. "Thank you."

Noel didn't move. "You know, I've missed yeh a lot. Y'know that?"

Rivenna nodded sleepily. "Yes, yeah, I know......" She rubbed her eyes. "Your... your mother's name is Amberanne, right?"

Noel replied, "Yeah."

Rivenna shook her head in wonder, staring into space. "I couldn't find her when we went to Manchester." Noel leapt up.

"You went to Manchester? How're things there? What did y'think?"

"Y'want the honest truth?" she asked wryly.

"I'll 'ave t'learn to accept it," he said quietly, producing a ring from a pocket, "if I'm askin' you t' marry me and you accept."

The wolf was rendered totally speechlessly. Her chest rose up and down quickly, sucking in air in shocked breaths. "I-I-I..." she began. She looked into his solemn blue eyes, and nodded once, firmly. "I will."

He kissed her on the cheek, his heart flying in joy. "We'll 'ave it done in Redwall proper-like when this is all over."

Rivenna nodded, gazing at the tourmaline gem set in silver, and cried softly. "I know," she whispered, trembling.