Vandar strode ahead of his horde, enjoying the stinging winds and the winter scene. Raised in the northlands, he had grown in this environment, and his blood ran thickly, keeping him warm and enduring in the cold. His army, though, picked up from many warmer climates, did not equally enjoy the season.

"Brr, I'm freezin', I am!" muttered Copple the ferret to the rat Dret marching near him. "Doesn't Vandar know he won't have an army if he marches them in this weather?"

"It's not cold enough to freeze anybeast to death, idiot," replied Dret. "Besides, be careful what you say. No telling who's favored by Vandar nowadays. Could even be me." He gave Copple a sinister glare, then chortled. "Don't go looking like a hooked fish, matey. I ain't with that treacherous villain." He leaned in to whisper, "I hear all we're doing is settling a score with that bunch of white squirrels we dealt with those ten or so seasons back, remember?"

Copple nodded. "Oh, yeah." He craned his neck to see the sword of Martin strapped across their leader's back. "That's when Vandar got that sword. I remember. But why are we going back? I thought those squirrels were not worth dealing with."

"I heard him talking with Wenva, that witch-rat," murmured Grimpaw, who had been listening in to their conversation. "Vandar says he's gonna settle a score with them, that's he had dreams about himself being revenged; he wants to wipe out anything that might be a threat!" The two rats and the ferret quickly fell silent as Tirb the weasel strode by, with the ancient Wenva in her basket. After she passed, the vermin shuddered.

"I wouldn't want to make that rat mad at me," Dret said. "There's no telling what spell she could put on me!"

Along the trail, further south of the vermin band, Juniper and her companions traveled on, now with the little vole Fiffen in their company. He amused Clemm and Erwin with his silly songs and acrobatics, but fortunately, he was not slowing them down one bit. He raced an appropriate space ahead, and then ran back to Erwin, who hoisted him up to her shoulders.

"Gothca, you little villain!" Fiffen giggled.

"When we get to my home, my momma and poppa are gone have quite a treat for you for finding me," he proclaimed happily. "And then we'll sing and dance and dance and dance and dance!" He kicked his little legs in a jig, and even the hardened Juniper had to smile in spite of herself. The little fellow reminded her so much of her older brother, Birchbark, in the few memories she possessed of him. He could be dead, for all she knew, but she kept the faint hope in the back of her mind that when they reached the northlands, she would find him.

At around noon the next day, the four arrived at the ford. In past days, the ford had been shallow enough to wade across, but now, the ford had grown deeper, and all creatures dreaded the pike that patrolled the waters. A small ferry had been set up, but it lay moored on the other side. The four looked around puzzled, until Clemm called out, "Is there a ferry keeper hereabouts? We're four good creatures, wanting to cross!"

At his voice, a large hog trundled up from seemingly nowhere on the far bank. He wore a rough homespun smock and a large cape.

"What can Roofin do fer you?" he shouted across to the travelers. "A ferry ride is at least one loaf of bread, or—my goodness! There you are, young feller! Your papa was nearly dying of grief the last few days!" Roofin hurriedly jumped onto the ferry, causing it to sink down, then bounce back up, sending spray flying. The hog quickly poled himself across the ford, avoiding the floating ice chunks that sailed by. He hastily tied up the ferry, then sprang to the bank and clutched up the little vole, being careful of his spikes.

"Gracious, it is the little mite! Well, pluck my spikes." He looked up at the squirrel, otter, and mouse. "Thanks to ye, good beasts. When Fiffen went missin' a few weeks back, the entire Buntha were plum-stricken with grief." He looked at the smiling vole and a smile lit up his own face. "But now, great reeds and waters, the little'un's back, safe and sound!"

"Excuse me," said Erwin, "but what is a Buntha?"

Roofin looked shocked. "My dear, you have never heard of the great Buntha vole clan? Pikes'n'spikes! The Buntha are a great vole family that live upstream aways. Little Fiffen here is the only son of their leader, Lonk. Now, let's not tarry! Jump on, everyone!" Roofin, with Fiffen in his paws, happily jumped aboard, and hesitantly Juniper and her friends followed, concerned of the maximum weight the ferry could hold. But, the little craft held steadily as Roofin poled them across the ford. At the other side, they all jumped off, and Roofin handed Fiffen off to Juniper.

"Now, you go on and have a great celebration with the Buntha."

"But, mister Roofin, won't you join us?" asked Erwin.

"No, dear. I'd love to, but someone's got to keep this ferry safe." He then disappeared into the reeds and cattails, quite a feat for a hog of his girth.

"Now, Fiffen, which way to your home?" Juniper asked. She set the little tike down, and he scuttled ahead a ways, down the riverside to a large sprawling fallen oak tree. He pointed at the sealed-up trunk, and Juniper knocked on it. It amazingly swung open and instantly, they were engulfed by the Buntha.

The next thing Juniper knew, she and Erwin and Clemm were seated on cushions inside the oak, with voles all around them, asking questions and demanding each other to see the lost and found Fiffen. A large vole with a crown of braided reeds upon his head, which the travelers assumed as Lonk, held his son tightly, fighting back tears. Eventually, though, he came to face the travelers.

"My great thanks to you, creatures. Please, what are your names?" Introductions were made to Lonk, and then the leader proclaimed, "These brave beasts, Juniper, Erwin, and Clemm, have risked their lives to save my only son from terrible danger. Quick! Prepare a feast for them, and we shall revel in their tale of heroic efforts!" Much cheering met this command, and soon, tables laden with steaming and chilled foods of all sorts lay spread before the guests. Grilled pike swimming in herbs and butter, salads made from river vegetation, fresh and crystallized fruits, farls, loafs, and flatbreads of all textures and colors, cheese slices and wedges, pies, crumbles, cakes, and other sweets, and ales, juices, teas, and wines of all flavors. Erwin, Clemm, and Juniper quickly adapted to the festive atmosphere, enjoying the warm fire and relaxing for a bit. Juniper was surprised that she became so distant from her previous tense and hurried self, and wanted nothing more than to sit and eat and watch the singers and dancers.

"I am in great debt to you," Lonk declared. "You who have saved my youngest babe and are on a mission to destroy the terrible Vandar. I have lost many good voles to his armies, and appreciate your efforts."

"The mission is also personal for me," Juniper informed him. "Vandar killed my parents and many of my mother's people, the Wandering Whites."

"You don't say? Who was your mother?"
"Her name was Tolia Silverbranch. I also have, or had, a brother names Birchbark. I don't know if he lives or not."

"Birchbark Reguba?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Birchbark, a squirrel who quite resembles you. I have met him; he passes this way every once in a while."

Juniper's heart lightened considerably. "He is alive?"

"Yes, quite alive. He and some of his squirrel allies patrolled our forest for a few summers, and helped build this wonderful home." Lonk gestured around him at the marvelously carved interior of the oak. "I hope you find him well, Juniper Reguba."

"Thank you, sir." Juniper gazed around her, at the happy vole clan, their children and old ones and everybeast in between smiling and talking and enjoying the warmth and comforts of home. If only her life could ever be that way. But first, her mission needed to be completed, to ensure the safety of her mother's kind and all others from the wrath of Vandar the fox.

The next morning, after Clemm, Juniper, and Erwin had slept soundly and had their haversacks repacked, they stood at the oak tree's entrance with Lonk and a sturdy-looking young vole named Alec.

"Alec is a nephew of mine," Lonk told them. "He is a great fighter, fearless and brave, and quite clever. It's the least I can do, to let one of the Buntha come with you, after all you have done and all you shall do. I wish you safe travels. Good bye!" The three travelers, who took to Alec immediately, nodded their thanks, and with their new companion, walked back to the trail and continued northward.

A ways to the north, a tall, young male Wandering White sniffed the air. No scent of vermin was yet distinguishable, and he sighed inwardly in relief. He leaped skillfully along the conifers to the small encampment of other Wandering Whites. An older female warrior stood and greeted him.

"No scent yet, Birchbark?"

"None, Anja. But they draw nearer every day; I can feel it."

Anja nodded, knowingly. She had helped Tolia raise Birchbark, and she sensed every day that this squirrel possessed within him a unique quality brought on by his sharp senses, great leadership, and an incredible knowledge of worldly information. He had led their scattered bands throughout Mossflower Country, the northlands, the west coasts, and the southlands, and had never led them astray. But yet, he seemed remote at times, sad, and inconsolable.

Birchbark held his head high, knowing within him that while the vermin might be coming, his sister, Juniper Swifteye Reguba, part Wandering White, and part Redwall warrior, also drew nearer to the north.