A/N: Thanks to my reviewer, and yes, I will try to keep this story as updated as I can, although you'll have to forgive me for my writer's block sometimes. ;-) But seriously- I still need a bit of help on the creation/recreation of the bells. I have some sort of idea how it's done, courtesy of the final pages of "Sabriel". I just want to be fairly certain that I've got this right, because I hate to make it sound stupid or out of character of the book, so to speak.

The Perimeter was just as abnormal as ever when the seemingly insignificant duo appeared there. It was a month after Kerrigor had wreaked his havoc upon the Old Kingdom and those forty miles of Ancelstierre closest to the Wall, and this area had recovered remarkably fast after the damage. Only three weeks ago Sabriel had rebound the Dead of this area, using the wind flutes her father had created nearly twenty years before. The grief was still fresh in her heart, but she kept herself busy and refused to dwell on the fact that he was gone. She had a job to do now, and Abhorsen, rather, her father, would want her to look to the tasks in front of her instead of looking into the past where events could not be changed. Sighing, Sabriel nodded to Touchstone and began to pull their handmade wagon down towards the dugout, waiting for Lieutenant Jorbert to notice their arrival.

"Ah, Miss Abhorsen and the, uh, King. The Bain sheriff telephoned about your wish to return across the Wall. Won't you come in for a minute for some tea?" he asked, sticking his hand out to them and putting it back by his side when neither one offered to shake it. Touchstone shook his head firmly.

"No, we'd like to be getting on our way now, if you don't mind. Been too long on this side as it is." He transferred his weight on the crutches and his left leg, the right still trapped in the cast from the hospital. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of that place; he hadn't liked it at all and was happy to be heading home. Where ever home was nowadays.

"Very well then, let me see to your passports," the officer said, extending his hand and this time receiving two handmade papers in it. Nodding, he turned and walked towards a small building set back from the dugouts. "I'll be just a moment," he called over his shoulder.

"Creep," Touchstone muttered at the little man's back.

"He isn't yet used to us, or even this outfit. It's not his fault he was raised in the South where they don't believe in our magic," she said softly, smiling and nodding at the salutes they were getting from the healthy Scouts who'd made it out of the battle with their lives.

"Still, I don't like him. Bad vibes I guess, but I'd feel a lot better if it was Colonel Horyse here. I wonder how his family is coping." Sabriel didn't respond, and he uttered an apology under his breath. Before she could reply to that, Jorbert returned with their passports and a small crossing party was forming at the arched entrance in the Wall.

"Everything is in order, if you'll just follow me you can cross." Touchstone began to walk behind him; his pace still slow although he'd mastered the crutches two weeks earlier. Sabriel brought up the rear with the cart, and was surprised to find two soldiers helping her.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're mighty welcome, Abhorsen," one of them said, winking at her. "You've done so much for us here, the least we can do is carry some of your load."

They stopped at the Wall, letting the Scouts and Lieutenant Jorbert go through first, checking for Dead Spirits or Free Magic beings. Touchstone hardly waited for their whistle to begin making his way through what was once the gate. Sabriel started forward alone, pausing for a moment to look back upon Ancelstierre. 'Goodbye,' she whispered, turning to enter her homeland. This was the last time she would leave Ancelstierre as a citizen. The Charter marks on the Wall moved rapidly, as they had for Touchstone, welcoming her back to the place she belonged. Home, a voice in her head said. Yes, I'm coming home. Home to stay.

There was still a good amount of snow by the Wall, even though winter here had ended shortly after the rebinding of the Dead. Sabriel would have preferred to ski, but in her still tender condition and Touchstone's lack of mobility, they were forced to walk. She didn't fancy traveling too near to Cloven Crest, as the run in with Thralk and the Mordicant was still fairly fresh in her memory. Not to mention that being near the broken stone would drain both of them of much needed energy. So they stuck to the Old North Road, following it for a day and a half before coming to the Long Cliffs. When she advanced on the cliff, her hands ran over the bandolier she wore across her chest. It was curiously light, as two of her bells were missing, two of the most used and most important bells a necromancer could have. Kibeth the Walker and Saraneth the Binder. Broken by Kerrigor in her attempt to bind him to her will; vanished by his Free Magic cry. Shaking her head to clear it of those thoughts, she undid the strap that held Mosrael in place. Her fingers stilled the clapper in the bell and she turned to Touchstone.

"Are you ready?" she asked him, feeling the pack heavy on her back and seeing his bulge over his head. It was a shame their wagon wouldn't fit through the tunnel. He nodded to her. Mogget lay curled about her shoulders for the ride. Grinning suddenly, she took a deep breath and rang the bell, hearing Mosrael's harsh voice ring through the hills. She flinched as the cat's sharp claws dug into her shoulders, laughing as he was startled awake from his nap.

"Was that necessary?" he hissed.

"If you want to go home and have fish, it was, yes." The little cat shook his head, trying to force the echo of the bell from his ears. The miniature Ranna on his collar sounded clear and sweet, lulling him back into a sedated state. The hills grew silent once again as the reverberation of Mosrael's chime stopped. A wooden door slowly appeared, and Sabriel grasped the ring and pushed, the door swinging into the cliff. She heard Touchstone's gasp of amazement, and wondered if he hadn't seen something like that before, what with living in the palace in Belisaere. Her spirits high, Sabriel stepped through the opening in the cliff, greeted by the sending in the black surcoat. It bowed to her first, then to Touchstone as he entered.

"Please seal the door behind us as soon as we are gone," she instructed, nodding back to it. Mogget growled softly and the sending glared at the white cat. She laughed, walking past the sending and on to her father's, no, her house. The tunnel didn't seem as long this time, and the Charter marks along the walls were for light only. The waterfall boomed loud as they passed the second sending. Sabriel descended to the bridge across the raging river. The waters of the Ratterlin were high and swift, but the stepping-stones were clear.

"Get ready to jump!" she called over her shoulder to Touchstone, who was eyeing the river uncertainly. Steadying herself and the pack on her back, she crouched and leapt to the first stone, then the second. Mogget yowled and dove into her bundle when spray from the waterfall hit him. She jumped to about halfway across and looked behind her, pleased to see that Touchstone was following, if unhappily and a bit unsteadily on his one good leg. Eager now to get to the house, she pushed the gate open and bounded up the path to the door with a new burst of energy. Beaming, she dropped the pack in the entryway and ran to the main hall, the sendings gathering there to greet her, almost.

"Hello, hello, hello! The Abhorsen is back, and she wants a bath and dinner for herself and her companions. Oh, and fish for the cat, please," she called, her face flushed with excitement. The whole lot of them bowed to her, and she bowed right back as they scattered about to do their mistress's bidding. Touchstone came up behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"It's amazing Sabriel. Beautiful." She spun around and hugged him tight.

"Oh, it really is, isn't it? How'd you make it with your leg? I completely forgot about your condition!" she said, worry in her voice.

"I'm alright. Wet, and soggy now, but we can cast a healing spell and get rid of this cumbersome thing," he responded, motioning at his bum leg.

"Of course we will. Shall we do it now, or do you want your bath first? Let's get rid of this before your bath, so you can clean your leg as well. I'm a bit sore myself. Cast one for me?"

"Definitely. Where do we go?"

"My room. But be forewarned, it smells of sulfur when you have your bath. And don't expect to soak in the tub, the sendings frown on that." Kissing the top of his crown of brown curls, Sabriel skipped towards the stairs, humming a tune. Touchstone smiled and started after her. Her good spirits made him happy. So long as she was content, he was too. If she was near him, he was happy, and that was all that mattered. And she loved him, maybe not as much as he did her, but it was there, and that was enough. She was enough.