George lifted his head off the desk wearily. He surveyed the scene: the carnage was awful. He knew something must be about to happen. It did. He watched:
Anastasia was scurrying and darting through the mute wreckage of the battle, mad thoughts forming in her twisted mind. "Who needs my mother and that idiot Tatyanna?" she ranted. "I never needed them in the first place! I'll gather a horde and do what my mother and sister were never capable of! I'll surpass--" The air became deathly still. It unnerved the fox, and she fell silent. Suddenly behind her, she heard an ominous, terrifying voice.
"I know what you want. The magpies have come." The vixen stiffened, and nearly didn't dare to turn around.
But she did.
Tori looked like a demon out of hell. Her bright red fur gleamed with the blood of Shang Widowmaker and her Winterchildren. She lowered her head but didn't growl. Her actions were much more unnerving. She began singing in an unearthly voice that reverberated and filled Anastasia's head. She edged closer.
"If you know me so well, then tell me which hand I use."
"What are you doing?" she whispered meekly, realizing that she was trembling. Tori looked around at the battlefield, strewn with friends, allies, and enemies.
"Thought I'd been through this, in 1919," she commented bitterly, "counting the tears, of ten thousand men..." Anastasia's eyes widened as it dawned on her why the wolf was haunting her.
"No!" she screamed, backing away. "Leave me alone! That was my mother! And Tatyanna! I had nothing to do with that! Go 'way!" she yelled as the growing shadows enclosed her. Still Tori inched toward her.
"I'd gather them all, but my feet are slipping."
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" the fox shrieked, clenching her paws against her ears to eliminate the sound of justice returning to those who have earned it.
Almost to herself, Tori murmured, "There's something we left on the windowsill. There's something, we left. Yeesssssss.........."
Unexpectedly, the princess swung both paws together in a club, knocking her enemy down. She then kicked her in her vulnerable, soft underbelly and in her side. Tori crouched down next to the gasping fox. "We'll see how brave you are," she whispered. Anastasia stopped her heaving just long enough, and looked at her, confused. The wolf arose and stood over her. "We'll see how fast you'll be running," she sang, and kicked her again. Almost serenely, she continued on. "We'll see how brave you are," she told herself, watching the Arsonist scramble to her feet and begin running. Tori drew herself up and breathed, "Yes Anastasiaaaaa....." She gestured to the casualties of war and called, "And all your dollies had friends......."
Anastasia didn't know how Tori knew where she'd stumble to, but found herself facing the princess somewhere in the middle of the field. The wolf silently threw a necklace of teeth and claws at her, her eyes hard and unfeeling. Anastasia recognized it as her mother's, and a desperate, fearful gurgle arose in her throat as Tori sang on.
"Thought she deserved, no less than she'd give. Well happy birthday, her blood's on my hands." Did she hear my plans? the fox wondered deliriously. Tori looked at the ground, tearing. "It's kind of a shame, 'cause I did like that dress. It's funny, the things that you find in the rain, the things that you find, yesssss...."
Tori's green eyes burned furiously as her voice rose, throwing her shattered and burned life at her enemy. "In the mall and, in the date-mines! In the knots still, in heeeerrr hair! On the bus I'm, on my way down, on the way down, all the girls seem, to, beeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE theeeeeeeEEEEERRRRE!!!!!" Anastasia, in a reckless attempt to escape the vindictive princess, picked up the necklace and thrust it hard into the wolf's bleeding side. Tori doubled over, but it only seemed to anger her even more. Anastasia, heedless of her small victory, ran on. She remembered how the wolf fell after she'd pushed her off the cliff: a bloodstain against the icy torrents that marked the sea and the storm rising above it.
Distraught Anastasia couldn't take any more. She ran harder and faster. The hounding voice of Tori Rubyhaer followed her wherever she tried to hide.
Why could she not be rid of the blood-red wolf?!! The fox, ignorant of the large dip ahead of her, shrieked in surprise as she dropped down into the landscape. Tori stumbled onto the the highest point on the rim, glaring down into Anastasia. The wind was tearing at her, and Tori rose above her, her voice shrill and angry and vengeful beyond description. Her eyes were wild and frightening.
"We'll see how brave you are."
"Stop! "
"We'll see how fast you'll be runnahihihiiiiiiiiing!!"
"Stop..." Anastasia whimpered. Tori didn't heed her pleas.
"We'll see how brave you are."She threw back her head and her voice crackled and ripped through the sky.
"We'll seeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! We'll see how brave you!!!" Her eyes, her famous green eyes, were boring into her doomed soul. "Oh yes, we'll see how fast you'll be, running!!!"
Tori began chasing her again, like a rabid dog. She passed the fox, though, and stood waiting at the middle of the hill, waiting for the nearly-dead Anastasia to reach the summit. "We'll see how brave you are.." she whispered, her voice shaking. The vixen looked up at Tori: her face showed she was realizing how quickly she was dying. The wolf stepped forward, and faltered; she half fell down next to her, the cairn of rocks no less harsh upon her shredded body. But, quaking, she pulled herself up to the quickly-fading Arctic fox: she finished her sentence, staring right into her two-toned eyes. "Yes, Anastasia."
Tori, exhausted, sat quivering over the corpse of her last great purpose. Her heart felt very weak... and she was, quite dizzy....She took a breath. "Come aloooong, little darling. Come alooooong, now, with meeee...." She leaned down close, next to the body's ear. "Come alooooong, now, my little darling." Tori Fairskye Rubyhaer collapsed for the last time, and barely managed to whisper, "We'll see how brave you, arreee......."
* * *
Dolores walked past the gatehouse as she strolled the grounds with Waterback. "I wonder what George is doing in there," she said, a tinge of worry tainting her normally jolly voice. "He's been in there neigh on three days."
"Well, let's take a look," the otter replied sensibly. "It's strange: he's crippled, ain't 'e? Well, I've been hearin' 'im thrashin' about in there like 'e's bein' tortured by summat. Must be a terrible mess in there." The pair peeked through a small, slightly clouded window.
The small interior was indeed a wreck. Through the dim light, they could see the heavy multitude of papers ripped and scattered about. Deep claw gouges wracked the wooden shelf sides: a fairly thick section of a branch, surreally enough, lay on the floor, chewed almost in half.
Then Dolores spotted George.
He lay on the floor, half-in and out of a toppled desk. His great dark eyes were heavily crusted at the edges, and he was blinking, struggling to clear them. He looked even gaunter than anyone could have ever imagined. There was a tired, drained expression on his scarred face. He must have heard Dolores's loud gasp, and her order to the swift otter to fetch Sister Joan, for he moved only his bleary eyes to look directly at her, in such a disturbing way that the badger nearly broke down crying. George's gaze was that of one who had just helplessly watched a soul perish.
* * *
Paul Braunhayr stumbled through the dead bodies and wreckage with heavy, clumsy feet. He had to find the others. Noel, he knew, was within the ruins of the castle nursing an injured face, and most everyone else was accounted for. He angrily kicked aside vermin, and cried alongside friends. He suddenly pricked his ears up. Someone nearby was moving and groaning. Paul leaned closer to see who it was.
"Paul....mate, 'elp me." Liam's voice was dangerously weak. He was blinking druggedly, in shock. The senior wolf dashed forward, and pulled him from the body he was laying atop. He was about to hug him, the first of their "pack" he'd found alive. But Liam wrenched himself away and fell back down onto the body, sobbing hysterically. Paul craned his neck to see who his friend was desperately hugging. His face drained, and even the choking sounds he felt in his throat were muted.
John lay before them peacefully, torn apart by wounds and impaled by a knife in his side. His laughing bright eyes were cloudy and flat. Paul's breath suddenly came in staggered gasps, and he slowly slid down to the ground.
"Oh, Paul, he was so brave!" Liam was wailing. "I saw it, Paul, I saw it! 'E was brought b'fore th'Widowmaker, an' she said somethin' to 'im, an'-an', he was so brave! He was more 'elpless than a babby mouse, but he spat at 'er, defyin' 'er still! Then some ferret outs th-that," he pointed to the weapon in John's chest, "an' kills 'im on th'spot! Then Gandreth, that other ferret, th'good one, he's lyin' over there--" Paul looked to where Liam indicated: two ferrets, one staked with a knife just as John was, the other still looking at the javelin through her middle. The young wolf could go on no more, and limply hung his head and continued weeping.
"Poor thing, t'was all he could've dreamed of an' wanted," Paul whispered. "Now I know why George couldn't stop starin' at 'im when we left Redwall, he knew 'e'd never see 'im again." He buried his face in John's neck, and heaved his friend up into his lap, cradling the body like an infant.
Some time later, it seemed, he rose up. He looked down at John a last time, and stoically told Liam, "C'mon, we've got t'find more survivors."
Liam looked up at him, horrified. "But-but, John! We can't just leave 'im here!"
"We'll remember where he lies!" Paul barked. "Lord knows we'll never forget it. But we need to find the other two!" Reluctant with misery, the Gallagher also stood up, and shakily began to walk, following Paul.
It was not much longer before Liam stumbled over a huge carcass, in the middle of the battlefield. He looked back at what had tripped him. Paul examined it grimly. "Well, it seems that Tori got th'Widowmaker after all."
Shang's body was a gruesome sight. The axe had completely split her chest open, and her throat was ripped to shreds. Her barbaric green eyes still stared out at them, still terrified at her last sight. Paul kicked it.
"Get up, lad. We'll chuck this worthless thing into th'sea when we're done." He turned around, and his large eyes fell and became sad once more.
He kneeled down beside a pitiful small heap of fur, a breeze already playing with it lightly, in only a way as it does with dead creatures. He teared, and said softly to the body, "Ohhhh, Ringo......"
Liam's head was bowed. He was on the top of a small rise, and from here he could see the entire bloody battle field, bodies strewn like rag dolls across the land. His breath rattled in his chest. Unexpectedly, he heard something down below through the silence, something on the wind. It was high and angry: such a pure voice could only be Tori's.
"We'll see how brave you are. We'll see how fast you'll be, running...."
Paul jumped at the unearthly, hounding sound. He joined Liam just beneath the crest, and watched, horrified, as the princess dealt out her final crushing blow to Anastasia Ashpaw the Arsonist, the one who'd set fire to her life and burned it down around her ears; the one who'd pushed her over the cliff, and left her for the torrential seas to finish.
Paul leaned forward, his body stiff and frightened. Tori's voice carried well across the dip: like a thunderbolt it ripped though the air.
"We'll seeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! We'll see how brave you!!! Oh yes, we'll see how fast you'll be running!!" The two male wolves watched, unable to move, as Tori began chasing Anastasia, rabid with anger. The fox was pleading weakly: they could not distinguish the words. Tori overtook the fox, though, and stood waiting at the top of a hill, waiting for the nearly-dead Anastasia to reach the summit.
"What's she sayin' now?" Liam whispered fearfully.
"I dunno, I can't hear 'er," Paul replied, riveted. Liam jumped as he saw Tori fall, but restrained himself from running down to help her.
Tori was staring right into the fox's eyes. She sat up shakily, her lips still moving.
She then collapsed, heavily, and moved no more.
Frantically, he raced over the crest of the hill, Liam at his side. All he needed was a single mortified look to tell him all he needed and feared to know. Slowly, mournfully, he walked down to where the two bodies lay, and sat down next to Tori's. And he threw back his head and a cry ripped from beyond his deep, confused soul tore across the air. Liam joined him, tears running down his face. He glanced angrily at the red-and-white patchwork of Anastasia's bloodstained fur, and roughly pushed the body aside. Then, his expression becoming vulnerable, he joined Paul in his dirge, not noticing the remains of their army clustering around the rim of the craterlike depression.
They buried Tori and John together, atop a cliffside, by the sea.