Okay, it's been a while, I know. Happy New Years to all! Enjoy the latest chapter

Vandar strode ahead of the others who trudged behind. Light flurries danced on the biting wind, and the bare trees groaned above. The fox only pulled his white cloak tightly about him as he trotted along. The dream, which had haunted him only several nights before, had been banished from his mind, and all he could think of was annihilating all Wandering Whites from the north.

At midday, a short break was called. The weary drones of Vandar collapsed on the ground. Some made small fires and gnawed at food while others took the time to take a quick sleep.

"Wenva!" cried Vandar. The elderly rat scurried to her master's side.

"What is it, my lord?"

"Do you think that the winter shall prove terribly harsh this season?"

Wenva hesitated, not knowing how to answer. She picked up a small pawful of dirt and watched it sift down between her claws. The rat studied the mounds carefully, knowing her life depended on them.

"It is too early to ask for a clear answer, my lord, of the weather…"

Vandar's eyes narrowed into slits.

"…but it is clear that you shall meet many, many Whites, my lord, and they shall be at your mercy." Wenva's heart slowed to its normal rhythm as Vandar's mouth turned into a small smile.

"Very good, my seer. Well, it's not good to let the army go soft with these long breaks." Vandar stood and shouted, "Let's move! The journey may seem hard, but there many ways to which I can make it seem harder!"

The horde muttered many curses under their breath as they stood and trudged on again after their leader. Wenva crawled into her basket carried by an extremely tall and strong female weasel named Tirb.

"The way shall be treacherous, Tirb," whispered the seer. "The Wandering Whites shall destroy those crazy enough to challenge them."

"But I thought you said Vandar will win," said the not-too-bright weasel.

"I know what I said. The signs show the truth, though the seer may not always. The Whites have been defeated before, but there is one coming who shall lead them."

"A squirrel?"

"I don't know! Something! But remember this, Tirb. We must act completely loyal to Vandar until we battle the Whites. At the first sign of attack, carry me to safety, and you shall save your skin as well. Deal?"

The weasel hesitated for only a moment before she agreed. "Deal!"

"Come on, you two!" Juniper sprinted ahead, her paws kicking up frozen chunks of dirt that occasionally flew back and hit one of her companions. Clemm and Erwin jogged along behind the squirrel, trying to decide if she was crazy or insane.

"Juniper, you must slow down!" called Erwin. "Me and Clemm can't keep up with you, and you'll tire yourself out in a few days at that pace. Now let's take a break; we've been traveling for hours!"

Juniper reluctantly slowed down and turned back to be with her friends. She sat near them on their spread cloaks and took a small sip from her canteen. Clemm and Erwin quickly munched a few nuts and dried fruits and stood again.

"Ask her, Clemm," Erwin muttered, lightly jabbing the mouse. Juniper's ears perked up.

"Ask me what?"

"Well, it seems like there's no real plan, Juniper," Clemm stated outright. He was surprised to see Juniper give a sly smile.

"Of course there's a plan; I guess I just forgot to tell you two. We're going to the northlands, which is where I imagine Vandar will be headed. This is the time of year he attacked my family. He is no fool, know that. The Wandering Whites always gather in the northlands during the winter; their camouflaging fur serves them best where there's snow. Anyway, I hope you two like the cold." Juniper jumped up and trotted ahead, and the others donned their cloaks again and set after her.

"Darn, ole, boring Abbey," muttered Hoffy, kicking the red sandstone wall. "There's a great, bally exciting adventure going on out there, and we don't get to be part of it."

"Don't feel bad, Hoffy," said Pipsey. "There're lots to do around here. We have our chores and rooms to keep clean…"

"Oh, Pipsey, that's all the most booooooring stuff in the world!" cried Sareen. "Why don't we go race the Dibbuns? I have a hunch that little otter Toolie could make good speed, and I still have to win back my green ribbon from you, Hoffy."

"We raced the Dibbuns only a week ago, and the mums got on our case for doing it. You'd think there'd be something worth doing here," murmured Hoffy.

The three adolescent creatures sighed and leaned against the wall. What to do?

CCRRAAAAASHHHHH!

All three jumped at once and raced down the hall and to the kitchens, from whence the noise had come. There, in a heap of white and red powder and several broken bowls, stood three furious cooks, yelling up at the Dibbuns dancing with glee on top of the cupboards.

"Um, Hoffy, weren't we supposed to be watching those?" asked Sareen.

"Hoffington Terzeckrius Longlegg!" screamed one of the flour-and-hot root pepper-covered beings.

"Egad! It's Mum!" cried Hoffy. He tried to make a dash for it, but Natasha grabbed him by his ears.

"You were supposed-achoo!- to be watching those-wheeze-urchins, and now-cough- look!"

"We're sorry, really we are," apologized Pipsey. "Shall we help clean up?"

"You shall-gasp-help by taking those-achoo!-Dibbuns out onto the yard!" yelled Asha. "You three, take all five of these things outside!"

The three obediently reached up for and grabbed the little mites, except for the one that outran the grasping paws.

"Haha! No you catch me!"

"Dweemo, get down here right this instant!" Asha leapt up and grabbed the fat little mouse and thrust him into Sareen's hands.