 
### Pawsgaard

A Guineawick Tale by Jon Thysell

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009-2012 Jon Thysell. Some Rights Reserved.

Pawsgaard: A Guineawick Tale by Jon Thysell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 United States License. For more details visit <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/us/>

### Table of Contents

Epilogue

About The Author

01

Thick white clouds blanketed the sky, blocking the hot noon sun. The walled mousetown bustled with twittering whiskers, bouncing tails, and the rapid chatter of hundreds of mice. Merchants shouted from the shade of their stalls; mothers ran errands with little ones circling their feet. A constant stream of farmers returned from the fields, marching in from the East Gate with carts overstuffed. All bore the smiles of a good day's work and the promise of a comfortable winter.

Harvest had come to Guineawick.

Among the sea of grey, brown, and black, strolled a single white mouse. She wore a bright orange sarong wrapped about her waist; a wicker basket swung from the crook of her arm.

"A'llo Hester!"

The white mouse raised a paw to her brow and looked back toward the square, searching for the greeting's source. She spotted a hamster in the shade of the smithy, waving a heavy hammer as if it were made of cork.

"Hello Hamma!" Hester said with a grin. She returned the wave, fanning her whiskers wide.

"You look mighty pretty in orange!" the blacksmith shouted.

Hester blushed, tail around her ankles, and adjusted her sarong. Why'd he have to go and say that?

The hamster reached down and wiped his sooty face on his even sootier apron. "Well, much prettier than me and me ol' apron!"

Hester laughed; she liked the old hamster. He understood what it meant to stick out. "Thank you Hamma! I'll see you later!"

"Goodbye Hester!"

They waved again, and Hamma returned to the fires of his forge. With a swing and a bang, he resumed shaping the shovel-head he'd left on the hot coals. Hester smiled and continued her walk away from the market.

Not long after she spotted a familiar silhouette on the hillside ahead: the figure had large round ears, and his back bent low to the ground. He pulled a cart twice his size; it was filled over with the long stalk reeds that grew by the riverbank. Hester picked up her pace, her tail bobbing happily behind her.

"Peaceful greetings, Jared," Hester said in the old tongue. The greeting sounded more like a refined cough than actual words.

The old mouse jumped, and with one ear cocked back began a mock search; he hunted high and low, left and right, staring through Hester as if she wasn't even there. Hester smiled.

"Peaceful greetings, Jared," she said again. Jared smiled and perked his ears.

"Oh, peaceful greetings, Hester," he said. "I wondered who it was. No one speaks the old tongue anymore, at least not with me." Hester rolled her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Hester asked. "I always do."

"Did, perhaps," Jared said. "I haven't seen nor heard from you for months. Too old to spend your summer with Jared?"

"No, I-" Jared's cart lurched back; his knees bent and his arms began to shake. Hester dropped her basket and grabbed the cart's handle. "Let me help you with that."

"No need, no need!" Jared said, and straightened his legs. "You may be too old, but I'm not! I won't be too old until I can't pull this here cart, and when I can't pull this here cart I'll be too old." Hester gave him a stern look. "Besides, look at my arms. You wouldn't want to get your pretty white fur all dirty, would you?"

Hester leaned away, her tail back around her ankles, and flattened down her fur. Jared frowned.

"Sorry little one," he said. Then with a tug he continued up the hill. Hester retrieved her basket and followed.

They reached the hill's crest and Hester stopped at the crossroads while Jared caught his breath. She stood on her tiptoes and taking a deep breath, she looked down over Guineawick. First to her right: the road west led down through the oldest neighborhoods in town, where the long established families, like hers, kept their manors. Past the town wall and the land rose again, up and up the great rock face of Mount Podge.

Town Hall stood to her left: the stone centerpiece of Guineawick. By far the largest building in all of town, it predated even Jared, who claimed to not remember a time before Town Hall existed. Past Town Hall the road led to the East Gate, beyond which lay the Greater Gardens, the heart of Guineawick farmland. Grand fields of grains, fruits, vegetables and nuts stretched all the way to Hodge River.

Hester took in another deep breath and returned her heels to the ground.

"Why were you in the market today?" she asked, her tail piqued. "You don't come in for another week."

Jared twitched his whiskers then scratched under his ear. "Had a funny feeling," he said finally. "That's all. Like something big was going to happen today." Hester's tail bobbed, but Jared shrugged. "And where were you headed today?"

"I almost forgot," Hester said, and then held up her basket. "I brought you a picnic!"

"A picnic?" Jared asked, and twitched his whiskers again. "Why didn't you say so? Let's get a move on!" With a small heave, he lifted up the cart handles, and pointing his pink nose south, continued onward.

The road curved around a block of houses then passed between some of Guineawick's older stone buildings. The hospital appeared up ahead, tall and stark with its recent coat of white-wash. A cadre of Nurses maintained the grounds, dutifully tending the dense herb garden that surrounded the building. As she walked by, Hester inhaled the deep perfume of the Lesser Gardens and smiled.

Soon after, the two arrived at a small house near the South Gate. A wood sign hung over doorway; it read "Jared's Burrow" in stiff, blocky lettering. Jared smiled, fanning out his grey whiskers.

"Ah, home at last," he said, and then with a heave, he pulled his cart around back. Hester waited for him in the street, swinging her basket and toying with her tail. Then Jared returned, wiping the dust from his paws. "Shall we?"

"Why do you have a sign?" Hester asked. "No one else I know has a sign over their front door. And it's not a proper burrow is it? Weren't burrows underground?"

Jared scratched the whiskers under his chin and pursed his lips. Then his milky little eyes met Hester's, black and widening.

"Sorry," Hester said, paw to her mouth. In her sudden curiosity she'd broken Jared's one rule: that their conversations be always in high-rodent. Jared snorted and twittered his whiskers, then went inside. Hester followed with her head hung low. Oops. How many times have you seen that sign anyway?

Jared disappeared down the hall, while Hester hurried to the kitchen, setting her basket down on the rough wood table before fetching plates from the cupboard. Jared returned with a large bowl of flowered water and they took turns washing their paws and faces.

"I see you haven't forgotten your way around my kitchen," Jared said, eyebrow raised.

"I'm sorry, I know I haven't been around lately," Hester said. "How's the harvest?"

"It's a good year for everyone." Jared sat and fingered the basket. "What did you bring today?"

"Nothing special." Hester opened the basket and produced a loaf of bread, a blackberry, and an unshelled peanut. Jared grinned and licked his lips.

"It's marvelous," he said. "Well what're we waiting for?" Hester sat and broke the loaf in two. They ate in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. Finally, Jared spoke.

"Have you decided?" he asked. Hester's tail hooked the chair. Had she really expected him not to ask?

"I don't know," she said.

"You'll find something." Jared reached for the peanut and split off half. "There's no rush."

"Tell that to my father," Hester said, and Jared chuckled. "He's been on my tail all summer. School's over. You have to contribute to society now, Hester; you have to pick a place. It's all he talks about." The old mouse chuckled again.

"It's only because he cares," Jared said. Hester rolled her eyes and took her peanut half.

"What's with the smile?" Hester asked.

"Oh, nothing," Jared said. He paused to scratch his chin. "It's not the same, you know, not having you around. I miss our chats. I miss the extra paws down at the river."

"I miss your lessons," Hester said. "But I miss your stories more. Tell me a story, Jared. Tell me a story about Hodge and Podge." Jared laughed.

"But you know them better than I do," he said.

"Maybe," Hester said. "But I like it when you tell them." Jared sighed.

"Perhaps another-"

A flash passed over Hester's eyes, and just as quickly she snatched the blackberry from the open basket. Jared's nose followed the upheld fruit with keen interest.

"I see..." Jared licked his lips. "So that's how it's going to be?"

Hester smiled wide, revealing her fore-teeth. Food never failed to loosen her old mentor's tongue. She waved the berry under her nose and exaggerated inhaling its sweet scent.

"Alright, you win," Jared said. "Give me-"

A swift sharp knock at the door interrupted Jared; Hester jumped up in her seat. A moment later the front door opened, and in marched a young mouse sporting a Guard's cape.

"Hester, I thought I'd find you here-"

Jared stood and interrupted the Guardmouse with a wild wave of his arms.

"Hold on a minute!" Jared said. "Have you no respect, boy? You can't just barge into the Jared's Burrow!" Hester covered her mouth and tried to stifle her laughter. "What's your name?"

"It's me, sir," the Guardmouse said. "Aman." He stood tail in paw, his back against the wall. He lowered his head, pushing the edges of his rather large fore-teeth against his brown fur.

"Aman?" Jared rocked back on his heels and scratched his ear. "You hardly reached my waist last I saw you. But no, I do recall someone going on and on about you more recently." Hester stopped laughing, her eyes wide. He wouldn't dare.

She jumped from her seat before Jared could continue; the blackberry bounced free onto the table. "What's going on Aman?" she asked. "What's the big commotion?"

Aman eyed Jared, and then cleared his throat. "It's Zach and Toby; they found something by the river!"

Hester's heart dropped into her stomach. She'd told her brothers to stay in town; she was supposed to be watching them. If they were down by the river-

Hester imagined their mother, arms waving and spewing flames.

"What did you say they found?" Jared asked. He picked up the fallen blackberry and smiled.

"A rabbit!" Aman said. "A real live rabbit!" Hester stared wide-eyed at Jared as she tried to digest Aman's words. A rabbit? It couldn't be...

"Come on," Aman said. "The Guard is going to bring it through the North Gate!"

Jared put down the blackberry and stared at the floor. "Hmmm... something about today..." Then he laughed and slapped his knee. "Well what're we waiting for?"

02

A crowd had formed in the town square. Tails bobbed and ears perked as the curious townsmice strained to see over one another.

"Did you hear?"

"I know, a rabbit right?"

"Impossible, rabbits don't even exist!"

Hester, Jared, and Aman arrived with the latest wave of twittering whiskers. They shuffled into the square, and Aman spotted a small clearing up ahead. A matronly grey-fur stood in its center; she wore an elegant burgundy wrap and appeared to be scanning the crowd.

"Don't look now," Aman whispered. Hester's eyes widened at the sight of her mother, and she ducked behind Aman's cape. The grey-fur glanced in their direction, and Jared caught her attention with a wave.

"Rizo!" he shouted. "Over here!"

"What're you doing?" Hester asked.

The crowd split before Rizo, who marched straight toward the three mice. Jared moved to greet her.

"Peaceful greetings-"

"Where's Hester?" Rizo asked. Then seeing her daughter: "Hester, where are the boys?"

Hester opened her mouth, but the trump, trump, march of Guardmice interrupted her confession. A company approached, a grizzled grey-fur at their head; his broach marked him Captain of the Guard.

"Stand to, everyone!" he shouted with a flourish of his broad cape. "Clear the square!"

"Captain says clear the square!" another Guardmouse shouted. "Clear the square! Clear the square!" The Guardmice used their bows as mock rails to pressure the crowd back.

Hester stumbled backward with the press of townsmice and nearly tripped over her tail, but Aman caught her from behind. She blushed and smiled her thanks.

Her mother however, had already taken the initiative, squeezing her way through the crowd. "Out of my way!" she shouted. "Let me pass!"

Meanwhile, Jared had, with surprising alacrity, clamored up onto the edge of the nearest stone flower box. He hooked his tail on the post of a market stall and leaned over the other mice, his eyes alert and his enormous ears cocked straight ahead.

A silhouette grew under the arch of the North Gate as a small procession entered town. Half a dozen Guardmice resolved from the shadows with Hamma the hamster in the lead; together they dragged in a large mass on a hastily fashioned gurney. Hamma revealed chipped fore-teeth with every heave as they pulled.

Then came a sudden and deep voice from the crowd.

"Now what do we have here?"

The crowd quieted to whispers. A tall black mouse wearing a bright teal sash approached, and was let to pass the Guard's barricade. He strode straight up to the gurney and leaned in over the brownish green mass. The mayor-regent pursed his lips and raised his grey-tuft eyebrow.

"Captain Essl," he said. "Report, if you please." The grey-fur offered a sharp salute.

"It's a rabbit, sir, and he's hurt pretty bad. We found him-" Two high-pitched voices interrupted him.

"Hey, you didn't find him, we did!" Then two little boys, one black, one grey, ran out from behind the gurney. "Dad, he was laying down by Hodge River-"

"Zach? Toby? What were you two doing-" However the mayor-regent was interrupted himself by Rizo, who had finally made her way through the crowd and barricade.

"Argile, what's going on?" Rizo ran to her husband's side, then, seeing their sons, hunched down to their level, poking and prodding at their fur. "Are you alright, were you hurt? What were you two doing by the river? Where was your sister?"

Everyone turned to Hester, but her eyes were fixed upon the gurney. It wasn't possible. Her parents tried to get her attention, but she walked right past them. The figure was covered in a massive green and brown cloak, which rose and fell with hoarse, ragged breaths. Hester's heart pounded in her ears.

She reached up a single paw and pulled off the cover.

The townsmice gasped: the rabbit was at least eight times as large as Hamma. He wore magnificent plates of metal armor, though it was dented and tarnished all over. A Guardmouse stood nearby, carrying the broken remains of a spear and a large metal helmet with a smashed crest.

"It's a real rabbit," Hester whispered. But it was more than that. She stared at the unconscious body, and her heart beat ever faster. For under the stains of dirt and grass and blood, the rabbit's fur was as white as snow.

As white as her very own.

03

Hester paced back and forth behind Town Hall with her arms crossed over her chest. Her father had called the Town Council for an emergency session; she could hear the chatter of the audience inside. Argile's voice sounded high over their squabbles: clear and cool, urging the townsmice to remain calm.

For the first time in her life Hester actually wanted to attend, but her mother wouldn't hear of it. She needed to be punished for shirking her responsibilities earlier. Hester paced again, and then stopped to glare at the small nursery attached to the rear of the building. Babysitting.

Just great.

"Heya Hester," Aman said. He crossed the street toward her, his cape aflutter behind him. Hester blushed and patted down her fur.

"You don't have to do this you know," she said. Aman shrugged.

"Oh, I don't mind." Hester smiled and waited while he opened the door. "It's just babysitting." Hester curled her nose.

Right, just babysitting.

Then she entered, with Aman a step behind her. She had expected a mob of youngsters running amok; to her surprise they all sat in a circle on the floor around her brothers.

Zach and Toby regaled the others with the story of finding the rabbit. They hunched down from the table, and in low voices explained how they had snuck up on the great white beast. Hester rolled her eyes; someone's been rehearsing.

"We tried to lift him up," Zach said. "But he was too wide and kept flopping out of our paws. So I said to Toby: 'We better ask the Guard for help.'" Tails bobbed to a chorus of oohs and aahs.

"That's not what happened!" Aman shouted. The youngsters jumped, and Aman squeezed his way up to face the brothers. "The captain said you two came running through the gate screaming like you'd had your tails cut off." Then Aman turned to their audience. "Don't listen to these two." Zach and Toby stammered and stuttered and waved their paws.

"You'd be screaming too if you saw it when it was still awake!" Zach said. "Its eyes were red and it breathed fire!" The youngest in the nursery shivered and clutched at their tails.

"Rabbits don't breathe fire," Hester said.

"What do you know?" Toby asked. "You weren't there. You've never seen a rabbit before."

"True," Hester said. "But Jared has, and he's told me all about them. Don't any of you know anything about rabbits?"

The childmice shrugged and shook their heads. Hester sighed, then climbed up onto the table, shooing her brothers back to the floor. Zach and Toby flashed their tongues before finally settling down.

"Rabbits are good," Hester said. "Just like mice, hamsters, and squirrels. It's just been a long time since anyone's seen one."

"What are squirrels?" a tiny girl asked, but she was hushed by the group. Hester continued.

"Rabbits are fierce warriors from the north, where it snows year-round and there are all kinds of monsters, like weasels and foxes. Sometimes, they even run into cats." Some of the little ones gasped and Hester grinned. "It was Hodge who first went north to find the rabbits-"

"Hodge?" a boy asked. "You mean like Hodge River?"

"Of course," Hester said. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of the brothers Hodge and Podge either?" Her audience shook their heads again.

"Okay," Hester said, then took a deep breath. "Shall I tell you all the legend of Hodge and Podge, and how they founded Guineawick?" Everyone nodded leaned in closer; even Zach and Toby couldn't resist the story's pull.

"A long time ago, mice lived in burrows underground to keep safe from monsters and there lived twin brothers named Hodge and Podge. They were brave and tough, and loved to leave their burrow and explore. One day, when they were still babies, their mother found them outside, playing with the body of a snake they'd killed."

Mouths gaped and fore-teeth shone; fear of snakes had been drilled into their tiny skulls since before they could walk. It took a dozen of the toughest Guardmice to bring down a snake. Hester smiled her whiskers wide.

"When they were older, Hodge and Podge decided that they'd had enough of living underground. So one autumn they set out to build a safe haven where mice could live aboveground. The other mice thought they were crazy, so they set out alone. Their adventures led them here, where the mountain met the river, and they decided that this was the perfect place to build Guineawick."

"Why is the river called Hodge and the mountain Podge?" a mouse asked. "Why not the other way around?"

"That's a good question," Hester said. "You see, Hodge and Podge knew they couldn't build Guineawick all by themselves, so they decided to split up and find help. Podge had heard rumors of mines high in the mountains, and even though he was slightly younger than his brother, he volunteered to climb the dangerous rocks in search of the hamsters. He found them, and they agreed to build Guineawick on the condition that hamsters could live there too."

"And Hodge?" Aman asked.

Hester smiled at him. She'd probably told him the legend of Hodge and Podge at least a million times growing up.

"Hodge knew that the hamsters would need protection until the town was finished," Hester said. "So he followed the river north, far past the forest to the frozen tundra, the home of the rabbits." Many youngsters' cheeks puffed as they held their breath.

"Hodge knew the rabbits only by their fierce reputation. They lived in the harsh cold, and had to defend their homes constantly. Especially, against cats." The little ones gasped; some played nervously with their tails, others held onto their neighbors. Hester flashed a wicked grin. "Cats, the most ferocious of monsters. Feared by all rodents, but especially mice, for cats love the taste of mice most-"

At that moment, the door slammed open, which sent the children into chaos; they squeaked and squealed and scrambled over one another, diving behind and under the furniture. A sturdy looking Guardmouse entered the nursery.

"Hester?" he asked. Hester stood up from behind the table where she had fallen.

"Yes?"

"Your presence is required before the council," the Guardmouse said. He glanced over the cowering youngsters, and then faced Aman. "Straighten this place out."

Hester met Aman's eyes. He smiled at her, and she would have felt embarrassed if she wasn't already so nervous. This can't be good.

Then she followed the Guardmouse outside.

04

Hester heard elevated voices from within Town Hall. The Guardmouse gestured for her to enter and the hall went silent as soon as she crossed the threshold. Hester swallowed, and then walked up the aisle between the rows of wood chairs. Stay calm, you can do this. Hester fought down the tickle in her belly; fought the urge to grab her tail or fix her fur.

Her father stood on stage behind the podium and she quickly scanned the crowd to avoid his stare. The important mice were all present. Family heads with their wives and eldest children. Shop-owners and merchants. Dr. Cotton representing the hospital, and the many guild leaders. Hester searched for a friendly face and found Hamma up on stage. She'd nearly forgotten his recent election to the Town Council.

The hamster flashed her a smile; something wasn't right. She looked to Jared, also on stage, who smiled as well. Then her father spoke, forcing Hester to meet his eyes.

"Hester, do you know why you're here?" Argile asked. She saw through his calm image, sensed the flagging confidence beneath. It must have been a rough meeting.

"No," Hester said.

"The council has decided to take in the rabbit until he is able to leave Guineawick on his own strength." Hester listened carefully for the bad news. "Hamma has been kind enough to offer a room for the rabbit, given the lack of a suitably sized space elsewhere." Dr. Cotton grunted from the far side of the room.

"Being the most knowledgeable about rabbits, Jared has been charged with caring for our guest," Argile said. "He has requested an assistant-"

"I still object," Dr. Cotton said. The greying brown-fur crossed his arms on his chest. "There's no basis for discrediting the talents of my medical staff." The group of Nurses around him nodded their agreement. Argile ran a paw down his chin.

"Again, your objection has been noted." He looked again to Hester; her eyes were wide, her paws trembled. "Hester, Jared has requested your help."

Hester's tail perked and she looked to Jared; the old mouse nodded once in confirmation. No mention of not watching her brothers, no formal punishment. This wasn't supposed to happen! Hester fought to keep her tail from bobbing. Not this! Anything but this!

"Yes," she said after a deep breath. "I mean, I'll be happy to help Jared."

"Good, then that settles things," Argile said. Dr. Cotton turned on his heel and marched toward the door, his Nurses in tow. Argile sighed. "Well, then unless we have any other business tonight, I call this meeting adjourned."

With that, the townsmice broke into low whispers as they stood from their seats and started to shuffle out of the hall. Hester's mother passed by; she shot a stern glance at her daughter, but Hester didn't notice. She did however notice her father whispering something into Captain Essl's ear.

"Snap to!" Jared said, and Hester jumped. "Come now, let's get to work. I expect it'll be a long night."

Hester nodded and followed him out the door. It was already dark out; the townsmice lit torches and soon the crowd dispersed for home. Hester followed Jared north back toward the town square. After trailing behind for a bit, she scurried up beside him.

"What happened in there?" she asked.

Jared cocked an ear and responded without looking back. "Politics, politics," he said. "Nothing for you to worry about, not now at any rate."

Hester ran ahead and blocked the old mouse's way. "I want to know what's going on," she said, arms crossed. Her whiskers fanned out as she stared Jared down. "Why did you pick me to help you? Why are we even taking care of the rabbit?" Had she really just asked that?

Jared sighed. "Hester... if Dr. Cotton wasn't so blatantly ambitious, I'm sure the rabbit would have been safeguarded to the hospital's care. But he tried to bully the council by whipping up some nonsense about contagious rabbit diseases. He just wanted a leg up on your father, but Argile played his paw well and calmed everyone down. He's quite good at that, well, among mayor-regents that is."

"So the rabbit isn't dangerous?" Hester asked.

"I'm sure he's dangerous," Jared said. He stepped around Hester and continued toward the smithy. "But probably not to us, and especially not as he is now." Hester turned and hurried after him.

"You still haven't answered my question. Why pick me?"

"Child, you've got a good head on your shoulders," Jared said. "I know, I helped put it there. And even if Cotton wasn't after a spot on the council, the hospital was built long after the larger rodents left Guineawick. There simply isn't a room large enough to hold a rabbit. Hamma's house will better serve our purpose. And here we are."

Hamma's house stood tall behind his smithy; both buildings were strong and sturdy, the product of the best hamster-craft the town had known. Both had stood since the founding of Guineawick.

Jared rapped his paw on the door. A bump, bump, shuffle, sounded inside, and then the door opened to Hamma's bright, chip-toothed smile. "Come in, come in," he said. Jared gestured for Hester to enter first.

"And those Nurses are too chatty besides," Jared said as she passed inside.

05

A flicker in black and white.

The rabbit's eyes flutter, then snap open. Screams echo in the distance, faint and illusory. He stretches out, but finds the bed empty. He rolls out from the covers and strains to see in the darkness. Another scream.

He stands up, only to drop back to the floor; the smoke waters his eyes and scorches his nose.

The burrow is burning.

He pulls the blankets over his head to quell his coughing. Where are the children? He calls out, but the hot air chokes his lungs. He crawls toward the door, and onto...

Snow?

The air outside is crisp, the sun bright in the sky. The children roll and play in the fresh powder. His wife serves him a bowl of hot carrot soup; he downs it with one paw and holds her with the other. Something is wrong. Wasn't he just inside...?

The front door swings open, and he crawls out into the night. Fires dot the neighborhood. Where are the children? The screams are louder now, but there's something else, something deeper. A rumble like water over rocks.

The sound reminds him of childhood visits to the Southern Bend. A chill passes through him, and he can't hear anything. A neighbor darts across the field, then disappears under a crash of white...

He stands at attention, his brother erect at his side. The chief paces before the line, resuming his inspection. An old memory, but he can still hear that terrible rumble...

Fires crackle in his ears, and his eyes widen. Not water over rocks, not a rumble at all. It's purring. Spear! Where's his spear?

Shadows coalesce around him, and he drops to all fours, teeth bared. He smells blood on the wind; the screams are distant no longer. He lunges toward the nearest shadow, but then it's gone.

The purr turns to laughter.

He cries out his clan's battle-song, surprised to hear it echo back. There are others!

He lunges toward another shadow and bites hard. Shadow becomes cat, howling in pain. He dodges a massive paw and rolls into a snow drift. The warrior-song echoes overhead, and he sees his father charge into the monster. They collide and roll in the snow. Cat pins rabbit. No!

He jumps to his father's aid, and together they manage to fell the beast. Celebration is cut short: other skirmishes erupt around them. For the clan!

Then he sees her, off in the clearing, herding their children away, and his heart jumps for joy. Go my love, keep running. Go!

No!

They can't see what lies ahead. The cats are falling, but not fast enough, not as fast as the clan. His father flies past and into a tree, falling hard. This can't be!

He dashes toward the field, and his brother sidles up beside him. When the cat drops in their path, they leap together into the flurry of fur and teeth and claws. Darkness.

He opens his eyes; the dead cat presses heavy on his chest, fixing him to the ground. His brother lays dead, throat torn open, fresh red on the snow. He looks to the clearing and scans for his wife and children, but it's too late, he can't help them.

A beast descends upon them, and he can't look away.

He hears the cry of his father, the cry of his family, of the warriors, of his clan. They cry out to him and he can't answer. He can only cry.

*****

Hester sat in the darkness and pressed a cold compress on the rabbit's forehead. Jared's eyes had long since closed; he slept hunched forward in the chair on the far wall. The rabbit's fever needed to break soon. Hester refreshed the compress. Maybe she should get Dr. Cotton.

The rabbit sweat and shivered and mumbled strange noises on the bed. Then suddenly his eyes opened and Hester froze. He stared up into her eyes, then out through the large window behind her. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

"Can you see them?" he asked in the old tongue. Hester's heart beat even faster. "Can you hear my brothers? They march on without me." Hester shook her head rapidly. The rabbit reached a paw toward the window, then winced and grasped at his side. He blinked his eyes and stared out the window again.

"Is that real glass?" he asked.

He passed out before Hester could answer.

06

Clang. Blang. Hiss.

Sunshine blinded the rabbit; he blinked his eyes rapidly as they adjusted to the bright. His body burned and his head throbbed, but he tried to sit up.

Clang. Blang. Bong. Hiss.

Pain spidered out from his side, and he lay back down. White bandages covered his arm, shoulder, and ribs, bound tight, matting down his fur. He coughed, and winced at the spasm of pain.

"Water," he said, but no response. The room was sparsely furnished, just a couple of chairs and a nightstand. A large window dominated the far wall. He turned on his side, gritted his teeth, and scanned the room for his arms and armor. He saw them discarded in the far corner and his heart dropped.

He turned off his side and stopped; a fair-furred mouse had entered the room and their eyes met. She froze in the doorway, her breath short and rapid. Had he seen her before? They stared at one another in silence, until eventually his eyes wandered to the bowl and compress in her paw.

"Water," he said. "Please." The mouse's eyes grew wider. He pointed toward the pitcher on the nightstand. She nodded and hurried to pour him a fresh bowl. His whiskers flattened as he gulped down the cool water, and the mouse put a paw to his forehead. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the mouse said, and his eyes brightened. He rabbit grasped at her shoulder and she froze.

"You understand me?" he asked. "It's been so long-" The mouse pulled away and rushed toward the door. "Wait! Don't go, please."

"I'm not," she said. "I mean, I should go and get Jared."

"Forgive me," the rabbit said. "I did not mean to startle you, but you have startled me. If you must go mouse-maiden, please, your name first."

"Hester," she said, and then blushed. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

"Thank you, Hester. I owe you my life."

"I didn't really-"

"You pulled me through the night," he said. "I shall always remember that."

Hester grabbed at her tail. "I'll get Jared; he'll have so many questions." She started to leave, but then turned back to face him. "What's your name?"

He tried his best to sit upright. "My name is Sven Pawsgaard, son of Sig..." He stopped and smiled. "Sven, call me Sven."

Hester smiled back and left. Sven shut his eyes, and when they opened Hester had already returned with another mouse, the Jared. His ears were large, and he was most certainly very old.

"Peaceful greetings, Sven," the Jared said.

Sven bowed his head as best as he could. "Peaceful greetings, though I know naught but your title."

The Jared grinned and bowed his head. "It's been so long since anyone has made the distinction," he said. "Call me Jared as others do, it's no matter to me; I can't remember my own name anyway." Sven laughed.

"Jared it is then," he said. He liked the old mouse already. "I am Sven Pawsgaard."

"But surely you deserve a more complete introduction," Jared said. "A noble rabbit such as you must surely give his name proper." Sven nodded and cleared his throat.

"I am Sven Pawsgaard, son of Sig, son of Edgar, son of Erick." Jared bowed.

"Welcome to Guineawick," he said. "Now I'm sure the mayor-regent will want to hear your tale. Hester, would you go get your father?" Jared snapped to catch her attention. "And some food?" Hester blinked and nodded.

"Yes of course," she said, and then she was gone.

*****

Hester stopped outside and leaned against Hamma's front door. The blacksmith's hammer rung out from around the corner.

Sven Pawsgaard.

She hurried past the smithy, straight into a gaggle of curious childmice. Their curious tails waved like reeds in the wind.

"What's he like?"

"Is he awake?"

"Can he really breathe fire?"

Hester flared her whiskers; she didn't have time for this. She ran through the square, and started up the hill toward her family's manor. What was all that about Jared not knowing his own name?

When she arrived home she entered quickly and called for her father.

"What is it Hester?" Argile asked.

"Sven, err, the rabbit, he's awake," she said. She paused to catch her breath. "Jared said to come get you."

"Is that so? Well I best be off then," he said. "Rizo, where's my hat?"

"Jared also said to send food," Hester said, and her father nodded. Rizo entered from the kitchen with his hat.

"I'll make up a basket," Rizo said. "Hester, come help me."

Hester read her glare and decided not to argue. They went into the kitchen and prepared a lunch basket with fruits, vegetables, and bread. But as Hester carried the basket toward the door, Rizo stopped her.

"Your father can carry it just fine," she said.

"But-"

"No buts, you've got chores to do."

"I just-"

"Your father will have business to attend to and you've done your part." Hester frowned. Still in hot water.

Argile kissed them both on the cheek and left with the basket.

"Now go get changed and help me with the cleaning," Rizo said.

Hester went up to her room, but all she could think of was Sven's white fur, and those deep black eyes.

07

"His name is Sven Pawsgaard," Argile said from behind the podium. "And he was attacked by a weasel near the Hodge."

Concerned murmurs wafted through the crowd. Hester sat next to Aman in the crowded Town Hall; it seemed that everyone who could show up, had. She looked to Jared, sitting with the council on stage, but his expression was not the confirmation she had expected. Something was fishy.

"I've already spoken with Captain Essl," Argile said, and he acknowledged the old Guardmouse to his left. "There's nothing to worry about, the harvest will continue as normal. The Guard has handled more than their fair share of weasels, and this one won't cause us any trouble."

"What about this rabbit?" someone asked. "I thought rabbits were supposed to be great warriors? What if it's some kind of super-weasel?" The hall roared with chatter.

"Please, please," Argile said, and he waved them quiet. "I think we're all mature enough to not believe in rabbit-tales." Some of the mice laughed and snickered. "Nonetheless, while I have the utmost confidence in the Guard, there will be extra duty shifts until the weasel is found and killed."

"What about the rabbit itself?" another mouse asked. "Are you sure he's to be trusted?"

Hester's whiskers flared. How dare they? She started to stand, but stopped when Aman grabbed her paw. She looked to him and then to Jared, who averted his eyes. Something fishy was definitely going on.

"My dear townsmice," her father said. "There's nothing to be concerned about; Sven is not a threat. Isn't that so, Jared?" The mice all turned their attention to the old mouse.

Jared coughed and stood, clasping his paws together. "The rabbit poses no threat to us," he said. "He's merely a lone traveler, far, far from home." He smiled and twittered his whiskers. "This is a time to celebrate, to find ancient allies we once thought lost still live-"

"Exactly," Argile said. "I understand that you all have concerns and questions, but I assure you that there's nothing to worry about. Sven has been severely traumatized by his ordeal, and just needs to be left alone." He stopped to stare at Dr. Cotton. "With the best hospitality Guineawick has to offer. I give you my word."

The meeting soon adjourned, and as the townsmice shuffled out, Hester turned to Aman. "I know something's not right."

"Why? What makes you say that?" Aman asked.

"I just know," Hester said. "I know my father, and I know Jared, and I know when they're hiding something." She spotted Jared in the crowd and grabbed Aman's paw. "Come on!"

Jared greeted them in the common tongue. "Quite an evening."

"Jared, what's going on?" Hester asked. Jared sighed and took the two aside.

"Your father doesn't think that Sven is completely rational," he said. He held up his paw to deflect Hester's protest. "The rabbit has been through quite an ordeal, and feverish claims must be taken as such. Your father's right, there's no need to panic. A weasel caught Sven by surprise, nothing the Guard can't handle. Now, I must be going."

Hester scrunched her brow after he left. Why didn't she believe him?

08

Several days had passed since the meeting, and Sven had recovered quite rapidly. He was still bedridden, but he grew stronger every day. Hester, Jared, and Aman kept him company, while little by little he learned about the mice of Guineawick.

The persistent gaggle of curious childmice had worked its way up from the town square to the small clearing just outside Sven's window. They sat and shouted questions, which Sven tried to answer with his limited command of low-rodent. When he couldn't understand the questions, or find the right words to answer them, he'd turn to Jared or Hester for help translating.

"What's it like up north?" a young childmouse asked. Sven laughed.

"Very cold and very white," Sven answered for the fiftieth time.

"Are there mice up north? What do they look like?"

"Yes, there are mice, and they're white like me!"

Jared translated the next question, while Hester busied herself rinsing out a rag. She stopped and looked down at her own white fur; there were others out there, other white mice like her. How much easier her life would have been, if she'd known that as a child. Everyone else matched their families but her; Zach had their father's black fur, Toby their mother's grey. Knowing there were others might have saved her from a lot of teasing.

Hester shook her head and turned to Aman. The Guardmouse sat in the corner with a small book in his paws. He had never teased her about her unique coloring. She smiled and called over to him. "How's the studying going?" she asked in the old tongue.

Aman stared at her for a moment while he worked out what she had said. Jared claimed that the common tongue, or low-rodent, was but a bastardization of high-rodent: the original language of all mice. Hester had spent her summers at Jared's side, and he had taught her the language; until now, she had no one in town to speak it with but Jared.

"The studying is going well," Aman said. Hester's smile flashed her teeth; Aman was more than just a cape and a sword then. Of course, he wasn't the only one in town with a sudden interest in learning the old tongue.

Aman wasn't the only one embracing change; Hester had practically moved in at Hamma's. She slept in the chair at Sven's bedside, only returning home in the evening to rush through her chores. She had hardly traded a dozen words with her parents since the weasel announcement, though she could hear them whispering sometimes.

They were leery of Sven, despite their apparent courteousness toward him. One night Hester overheard them arguing about someone named Tom. She wondered who they could be talking about; there weren't any Toms of any consequence in Guineawick.

She didn't have time to worry about it. The nights at Sven's bedside were long: the nightmares had continued, and Hester could do nothing but sit ready with a compress. When asked, Sven claimed he couldn't remember what the dreams were about.

But by the end of the week, Sven was ready to get out of bed.

"Are you sure?" Hester asked. Aman brought him a wood pole, and the rabbit tested his weight on it.

"This will do fine, Aman," Sven said. His low-rodent was rough, but improving. He struggled to his feet.

The hardest part was getting him in and out of the room. Despite its origins, Guineawick had been fitted primarily for mice. Thankfully Hamma's home was of the original stone architecture, and that the window was large enough to serve Sven's purpose.

His exit drew a crowd of laughing childmice, and when he was out Zach and Toby bounded up to him. Hester rolled her eyes; they'd been begging her all week to see Sven, and now that he was out they had their chance.

"We're the ones that found you!" Zach said, his tail high behind him. "Me and Toby, we found you down by the river!" The two grinned wide, showing their narrow fore-teeth.

Sven smiled back, and after a pause, responded back in low-rodent. "I owe you two a great debt." Their eyes gleamed; their friends regarded them with awe. "Just as I owe your sister here."

"But she didn't find you," Toby whined. "We did!" Sven laughed and smiled at Hester. She blushed.

Then she and Aman took Sven on his first tour of the town.

09

"It's come, it's come!" Sven turned his head toward the distant shouts. "The weasel's come, run!" The rabbit's ears perked and his eyes locked with Jared's. Hester stood in the doorway balancing a tray of fruit on her palm.

"What's going on?" she asked. Sven rocked himself upright and kicked off the covers.

"My spear, my armor!" he shouted, and Hester hurried to the bed to help him stand. "Where are they?" Sven looked to the far corner; his armor lay bent and unattended, his helmet still bore its smashed crest. His spear leaned against the wall, and had fared little better: its haft remained snapped in two. It would have to do.

Jared pushed the window open, and before Hester knew what was happening, Sven jumped through the opening with the broken spear clenched firmly in his teeth. The rabbit landed outside and darted off toward the screaming, with Hester and Jared hurrying to follow.

A stream of frantic townsmice flowed in from the Greater Gardens, and Hester fought her way through them. Up ahead she saw Sven and several cloaked Guardmice heading for the town wall, but the East Gate was nearly choked shut by the fleeing farmers. No way Sven would fit-

To Hester's astonishment, Sven sidestepped the problem. Or rather, jumped over it. When a clear path opened before him, the rabbit dashed forward, and with a mighty push from his legs, leaped up high into the sky. The outer wall stood as tall as a dozen mice stacked tip to tail, but Sven cleared it completely, and disappeared over the other side.

Eventually the crowd thinned enough for Hester and Jared to pass through the gate and head toward the fields. Guardmice passed in the opposite direction, dragging the wounded back into town. Hester spotted Sven, Aman, and a dozen more Guardmice on a hillock far in the distance.

Then she saw the weasel; it stood its ground with its back to the river. Hester didn't stop running.

She couldn't remember the last time a weasel had threatened Guineawick, and curiosity edged out her fear. She stopped a hill away and dropped down to the grass; a moment later Jared lay at her side.

"Look!" Jared said. "Why doesn't he run?"

The Guard had formed a wide semi-circle around the beast, with Sven standing behind them. The weasel bared his sharp teeth; coarse fur prickled on his arched back. Then he began barking, chattering, and hopping about on all fours.

"The weasel's war-dance," Jared said. "Why risk a fight? He doesn't stand a chance." Hester saw why: she could make out a figure huddling behind the monster. Then she saw the burgundy wrap and her heart dropped.

The figure was her mother.

"Mom!" Hester shouted. She tried to stand, but Jared stopped her.

Some of the Guardmice drew bows and fired at the weasel, but its mad hopping made it too difficult to hit. Where was Aman? Hester scanned the mice through her tears, but couldn't see him. Where had he run off to? For that matter, where was Sven?

The weasel had stopped dancing, and to Hester's horror, lifted Rizo up with his teeth. Her poor mother swung helplessly from its jaws, and the beast began to backpedal, looking for an exit. Jared grasped Hester's shoulders, and she bit her fist to stifle a scream.

Please, someone save her.

A call echoed through the air, and as if on cue the Guardmice dropped to the ground. Hester saw a white blur emerge from the far side of the hill; Sven leaped toward the beast, broken spear in paw. Aman rode upon his back, and together they charged the monster at incredible speed. The weasel reared up, and Sven cried out as he tackled the beast.

Aman jumped at the last possible moment and caught Rizo as she fell from the weasel's grasp. The two mice rolled to safety, while Sven and the weasel wrestled in the dust, nipping and clawing at one another. With each exchange of blows their struggle took them closer and closer toward the gurgling water of the Hodge.

"Sven, the river!" Hester shouted.

Sven nodded and grit his teeth. The weasel had him pinned on his back, and his side ached in pain. Blood flowed freely from the weasel's bites, staining his fur and seeping into the soil. Got to end this. He felt around for some leverage, when his paw touched the shaft of his spear.

With a smile then a cry, he plunged the point into the weasel's stomach. Then he kicked with all his might, sending the monster flying overhead and into the raging water. The weasel clawed desperately at the waves, the spearhead still lodged in its belly. Then with a final cry, it disappeared under the current.

Sven sighed and fell unconscious.

10

Drums sounded and the mice cheered in time; the weasel was dead, and all was well again.

In celebration of the beast's defeat, Argile had declared an early start to the Harvest Festival. The townsmice gladly replaced their tools with the instruments of celebration. Food was hastily prepared, and the distillery unsealed its casks.

The mice sung and danced and ate and drank. The Guard strutted as kings of the town; they'd gotten in their licks even before Sven's daring rescue. There had been a few injuries but not a single mouse had been lost in the attack. The names of Sven and Aman were on everyone's lips. All were in a joyous mood, and the town's apprehensions about the rabbit had seemingly melted away.

Hester leaned against a merchant's stall with her eyes on Sven. The rabbit sat alone and away from the other revelers. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Aman asked. He offered a blueberry, which she accepted.

"It's Sven," she said. "Something's bothering him." She rapped her nails on the berry. "Come on," she said, and grabbing Aman's paw she led him toward the sullen rabbit.

"Sven?" she asked. "Are you alright?" She offered the blueberry to him, but Sven declined with a raised paw. "Why aren't you celebrating with the others?"

"Thank you Hester, but I'm not in the mood to celebrate," Sven said. "Go and have fun. Don't let my melancholy spread."

"Are your wounds bothering you?" Hester asked, and she checked his bandages.

"Oh now, not here," a voice said from behind them. The three turned around to see Rizo with an entourage of Guineawick elites. She leaned on a crutch, but still kept her head held high.

"Mom," Hester said. "How's your ankle?"

"I'll manage," she said, then turned to Sven. "I wanted to thank you Mr. Pawsgaard; I misjudged you. And I thank you as well, Aman." She bowed with some difficulty. "I owe you two my life."

Aman beamed and puffed out his chest; Sven stared deep into the mouse's eyes. "Your thanks are unnecessary madam," Sven said. "I only did what was right." Rizo looked away and smoothed down her fur.

"Yes, of course" she said. "Well, please, enjoy the festivities." With that, she and her followers left, their tails swaying gracefully behind them.

Hester scrunched her nose. Something important had passed unsaid, but she had failed to read her mother's face. Something was going on. She turned to confront Sven, but realized he'd left as well. "Aman-" The Guardmouse looked lost in thought, probably still riding on her mother's praise. Or in his eyes, the praise of the mayor-regent's wife. Hester flared her whiskers and twitched her tail.

"Aman!" she said.

"Sorry Hester," Aman said. She nodded toward Sven, and paw in paw, the two went after him.

They found the rabbit near Hamma's smithy; the hamster had cornered him against the side wall. He held a pitcher of berry-wine in one paw, and had dark purple stains on his face.

"It's all me fault," Hamma cried, and he grabbed at Sven's fur. Sven winced slightly and put a paw on the hamster's broad shoulder.

"Do not blame yourself master-smith," Sven said. "It is my shame that I let my arms sit broken and collecting dust."

"I should've fixed 'em sooner," Hamma said.

"They're only tools."

"Such fine tools!" Hamma cried into Sven's fur, then pulled back and stood resolute. "I give you me word: on me honor, I shall restore your arms and armor! I shall forge masterpieces!"

Hamma stormed off before Sven could respond. After he was gone, Hester spoke.

"What's going on Sven?" she asked. "I know my mom-"

Sven held up his paw. "Do not worry Hester, this does not concern you." With that, he turned and left again. Hester turned to Aman, but a group of childmice had encircled him, begging him to recount the battle with the weasel. The children pulled him back toward the party, and Hester was left alone.

"Something's definitely not right," she said quietly, and crossed her arms.

"Very perceptive," said a voice from the shadows. Out stepped Dr. Cotton, a glass of berry-wine in his paw.

"You startled me," Hester said after catching her breath. "What were you doing-?"

"Just enjoying the evening's festivities," Cotton said. He raised an eyebrow and sipped from his glass. "It seems our honored guest is troubled; I trust his wounds are well taken care of?"

"I can handle it," Hester said. "I know what I'm doing."

"No doubt," Cotton said, and then he drank from his glass again. "I do hope that's the last we see of weasels. My Nurses have their paws quite full down at the hospital."

"I'm sure," Hester said. What did he want?

"Anyway, I'm sure that whatever, what's the word... contention? Yes, I'm sure that whatever contention there is between Sven and your father will resolve itself eventually. Your father is a good mouse."

"What're you talking about?" Hester asked. "What contention?"

"I'm sure it's nothing," Cotton said. "I overheard them arguing earlier is all. Something about a 'thom' I think. Jared was there, I'm sure he'd know." Hester moved to interject, but Cotton ignored her. "No matter, I should get back to the hospital. Do enjoy the evening, Hester." With that, Dr. Cotton returned to the shadows.

Hester's mind was ablaze; something was definitely going on. But thoms? That was a high-rodent word. Her parents had argued that one night about a Tom; had they meant thom? It was certainly possible, as neither of her parents spoke high-rodent, and the inflection was subtle.

But why would they be arguing about cats?

11

The excitement died down some days later, and the townsmice returned to the harvest. Hester herself spent less time around Hamma's, opting to participate in the fieldwork. It felt good to work the earth with her paws, and gave her precious time to think.

But today she decided it was time for digging of another kind. She sat with Jared on the windowsill of Sven's room, and watched while the rabbit instructed Aman and some others in the fine art of spear fighting. Generations of Guardmice had wielded the sword and bow; the spear was considered too crude and primitive a weapon. After seeing Sven in action however, many were eager to study under him, and the warrior-rabbit was only too happy to oblige.

Hamma's hammer banged in the background. Now was as good a time as any. Hester produced a berry from her basket and turned to Jared. Sound casual.

"What did you mean before?" she asked, and palmed the berry. "When Sven first came to Guineawick, you said you couldn't remember your name."

"That?" Jared asked. His eye caught sight of the food, which set his whiskers atwitter. He leaned forward and twitched his nose. "Oh, it's nothing really."

"He said he knew you only by title." Hester held the berry to her mouth, and then feigned surprise. "Oh I'm sorry, did you want some?" She broke the berry in two and passed half to Jared. He smiled and took a bite.

"I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out before," Jared said. "Break down the root, jare."

"'Jare' is 'to know'," Hester said. "Knower?"

"Close, it's an old high-rodent word for scholar." Jared took another bite. "It's also an old title. The Jared of a community was its historian and teacher."

"Then your name..."

"After a while I got used to being called Jared, so I took it as my name. I've been the Jared of Guineawick for longer than, well, longer than I care to remember at any rate."

Hester nodded. Jared had been a fixture of the town for a very long time. In fact, her father once told her that his father, her grandfather, had spent his childhood summers studying with Jared, who was an old mouse even back then. To think, she'd spent every summer at his side, and not asked before.

Sven returned to the windowsill and drank a bowl of water. He wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled at Hester.

"I am curious," he said. "I have heard a little about the history of this place, but I am confused. What happened to all the other rodents?" Jared smiled and wiped his paws on his leg.

"Guineawick was a marvel in its heyday," he said. "The hamsters' mining brought rodents far and wide in search of priceless treasures. Gold, silver, and precious jewels were big business, and Guineawick attracted not just hamsters and mice, but squirrels and even rabbits."

"What happened?" Sven asked.

"The mines went lean. There's nothing left but iron ore, and many a hamster's greed was too great to stay for so base a metal. As the miners left, so did the others: the squirrels returned to the forest, the rabbits back to the tundra. Fewer traders passed through town, and soon Guineawick scaled down to mouse proportions."

"Which makes things a wee bit difficult," Hamma shouted. He hiked up the yard to join them at the window. "What Jared says is true. Most of me kind left, but me own family stayed. Gold and silver are pretty, but there's no shame in working hard steel. Speaking of..."

With that, he raised Sven's shoulder guard in his paw. "This here is mighty fine armor, Pawsgaard. Exquisite."

Sven took the piece of curved metal and held it up for inspection. "Your own craft is amazing," he said. "It feels as good as new."

"It wasn't easy," Hamma said. "Must've been a nasty something that bent this."

"Sven's armor must have survived a ton of ferocious beasts," Aman said, arriving with a spear in his paw. "I'm sure that armor's saved your life a dozen times." Sven's ears went flat.

"It has," he said. Then his eyes met Jared's, if only for a moment.

Hester stared at them both. Something had thrashed Sven's armor, something much nastier than a weasel. Her eyes burned with curiosity, but a gaggle of childmice had arrived at Sven's feet, eager with questions. Hester pursed her lips; her questions would have to wait.

12

The evening brought rain, and the streets of Guineawick ran to mud. Hester lay in bed and stared out of her window. The wheels turned in her head; try as she might, she couldn't sleep.

She had to know.

Hester huffed and threw back the covers, then went to her closet for a cloak. A moment later she was in the hall, when she bumped into Toby.

"Where're you going?" he asked, and Hester shushed him.

"Nowhere," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."

"You're going to see Sven, take me with you."

"No Toby, go back to sleep."

"What's happening?" came another whisper in the dark.

"Go back to sleep, Zach," Hester said.

"Hester's going to see Sven," Toby said.

"Take us with you," Zach said.

"No."

"Take us with you, or we'll tell Mom and Dad."

Hester gritted her teeth; they knew they had her. "Fine," she said. "Get your cloaks, and keep it quiet." Her brothers grinned and bounded back to their rooms.

The three siblings met outside, and Hester led them under the eaves, but they got wet anyway. When they reached the town square, they spotted a night patrol and hid while the Guardmice passed. They continued around the back of Hamma's house and arrived at the large window; it was open.

Sven lay writhing on the bed; the nightmares must have returned. They climbed in through the window, but Toby slipped and fell on the floor with a thump. The three mice froze and waited, but Sven didn't wake. Hester shot her brothers a mean face, and then tiptoed to Sven's bed, motioning for them to stay put.

Sven's whiskers twitched in the dark and he muttered broken phrases in high-rodent. "What's he saying?" Zach asked.

Hester shrugged and fetched a wet cloth. When she pressed the cool rag to Sven's forehead, the rabbit began spewing full sentences.

"They're everywhere, there's too many of them! Father, quick, we have to... no!" Hester listened in horror, thankful her brothers couldn't understand. The rain roared outside, and Sven began shouting. "Thoms! Everywhere! Killing everyone! I can't stop them, I can't..."

Without warning the rabbit bolted upright, his ears cocked toward the window. His eyes were still shut, yet he stretched out toward the pattering rain. Zach and Toby squealed, grabbed their tails, and ran out of the room.

"Father, I'm so sorry I failed you!" Sven groped toward the window, paddling his arms as if he were swimming. "Your marching, I can hear the marching. Warriors lost, calling to me!" Hester grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently.

"Wake up!" she shouted. Sven spun around and Hester tried to dodge his paws, but he knocked her down to the floor. The impact jarred him, and he awoke, blinking his eyes rapidly.

"What's going on?" he asked. Then he looked down at Hester. "Hester, what are you doing here? The warriors, where are they? I can still hear their marching."

"It's the rain Sven, it's just the rain!" Hester climbed up off the floor, shedding her wet cloak in the process. "What's wrong, tell me the truth! Tell me about the cats!"

"It's no use," Sven said. "They came on us in the night. They destroyed my clan, slaughtered my family. The souls of my brothers call to me, bid me join them in the afterlife. But I can't join them, not now, not like this! Not until I fulfill my quest! Not until I kill the cats that killed my family!"

Hester swallowed. "What happened down at the river?"

"I was hunting," Sven said. His eyes were glazed, his words slow. "For months I tracked down every cat responsible. I was on the trail of their leader, who led me here, to Guineawick." Hester gasped and fidgeted with her tail. "I fought him at the river, but he was too strong for me."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hester asked, whiskers fanned and eyes wide.

"I told Argile," Sven said. "Your father promised that the Guard would help me after I recovered, that there was no need to start a panic. I gave my word to keep silent. Then he and Jared made up the story about the weasel."

"But then a weasel came," Hester said. How could he? Her father's lies had been validated by chance. She pushed away from the bed and ran to the window.

"Hester!" Sven called, but she was already gone. Her wet cloak still lay on the floor.

*****

Aman's shift had finally ended, and he tried to avoid the muck in the square as he headed home. He had just crossed the street by the smithy when he thought he saw a glimmer of grey and black fur.

"Who's out here?" he asked, and he drew out his new spear. He walked slowly and bristled the rain from his whiskers. Then he heard feet to his left and turned; Hester collided into him and they fell to the ground.

"Aman!" Hester said. They disentangled, and she grabbed the front of his cloak, pulling his face close to hers. "It wasn't a weasel. Cats, Aman! It was a cat!"

"Hester? What're you talking about?" He stood and helped her to her feet. He shook the mud from his cloak, when he noticed that Hester was soaked. "What're you doing out here? Where's your cloak? You're a mess!"

"I've got to see my father!" she said. "Sven wasn't attacked by a weasel out at the Hodge. It was cat! A thom!"

"That's crazy talk," Aman said, "Why would-" Lightning flashed overhead, and they saw several large shadows drop down from atop the northern wall. The rumble of thunder followed, but then, something else.

"The boys," Hester said. "They ran outside before me."

"We better find them," Aman said. "And fast."

A loud crunch sounded nearby, and the two mice crouched low and squinted in the dark. Lightning flashed again, and they stifled gasps. A merchant's stall had been knocked in, its wood beams crushed to splinters. They strained their ears, and heard low growls over the pound of the rain.

Lightning flashed in rapid succession, and they looked up in horror. Two weasels stood tall above them; their sharp teeth and claws glistened in the rain. The beasts each carried a childmouse by the tail: one black, one grey, with their rain cloaks dangling beneath them.

Zach and Toby.

Hester stood paralyzed, her wet and dirty sarong pressed tight to her slick fur. Then she screamed, her voice echoing in the din. Aman brandished his spear toward the beasts, but before he could attack, a hiss sounded from behind them, and a swipe sent Aman across road, knocking him senseless. A third weasel resolved from the darkness.

Hester turned to run, but lost her footing in the slimy mud and she fell again. The third weasel dove its head toward her tail, and in one smooth motion caught her in his teeth and scooped her up. She tried to scream again, but her voice caught in her throat.

Aman shook his head to clear the water from his eyes, and two Guardmice appeared and helped him to his feet. He pointed just in time for them to see the beasts scale the town wall, disappearing into the black night with Hester and her two brothers.

13

Torches were lit as news of the attack spread throughout Guineawick. The rain had cut to a drizzle, and the Guardmice had assembled in the barracks to plan a rescue. Hamma had been roused; the fires of his forge blazed and the blast of his hammer rang out louder than ever.

Argile fought to calm the angry crowd growing in the square. "Now everyone, please settle down!" he shouted, but his voice was cracked and hoarse. Rizo stood in a circle of her friends and cried and pulled at her fur, Hester's cloak at her feet.

"What are we going to do?" a mouse asked. "First one weasel, now three!"

"Everything is under control!" Argile said, but no one believed him. The crowd voiced their fears in a cacophony of squeaks and cries. Jared emerged from the sea of tails and joined Argile on the edge of the flower box.

"Good townsmice-"

"Everything was fine until this rabbit showed up!" a merchant shouted. Cries of support echoed around him.

"Who knows what damage that weasel would have done without Sven's help!" Jared shouted.

"None of this would have happened in the first place," the merchant said. "That rabbit led the beasts here!" Cheers followed.

Aman appeared at the head of a small squad of Guardmice. They pushed their way into the center of the crowd and Aman pointed his spear in the merchant's face. "Sven didn't lead any weasels here," Aman said. "He was hunting a cat!" The crowd went silent and stared in fear and disbelief.

Aman turned the spear toward the mayor-regent. "Sven was never attacked by a weasel, and you knew it!"

"What madness is this?" the merchant asked. Argile tried to speak, but Aman cut him off.

"It was a cat that Sven fought by the river," the Guardmouse said. "He warned you! We should have been prepared!"

"What cat?" Argile asked. "It's weasels that took my children!" His voice faltered. "I only did what I thought was right." The townsmice cried and shouted; he was losing control, and fast.

"You knew about this all along?" the merchant asked. "Weasels and cats?" Tails began to bob; anger and panic spread.

"We'll hunt the beasts down!" Aman shouted. He punched his spear into the air, but the crowd ignored him. The Guardmice grabbed the hilts of their swords and looked nervously at one another, whiskers atwitter.

"Enough!" boomed a voice. Sven walked into the crowd; the now silent mice parted before him. "This is no time to fight among ourselves."

"Thank goodness you came," Aman said. He smiled and took a deep breath, but the crowd still eyed the rabbit warily.

"I smell the cat's paw behind all of this," Sven said. "Weasels would not risk such a foolhardy attack against this town."

"What do we do?" Aman asked.

"First, we do not make rash decisions," Sven said. He scratched his chin and stroked his ears. "I am certain my old enemy is behind this," he said finally. Then he puffed up his fur and stood tall. "He is no ordinary cat. He is a thom, the thom who led the massacre of my family and my clan. I have hunted this beast for many seasons; he is strong, swift, and very cunning. No doubt he has enlisted these weasels as part of some greater plan."

"To what end?" Argile asked.

"I do not yet understand the breadth of this latest treachery," Sven said. The townsmice teetered on panic once more, but then a new bustle in the crowd caught their attention. An aisle formed to admit Hamma into the center; his body was filthy with soot, but the armor he carried shined brilliantly with the play of torchlight. "This is unexpected," Sven said. "This is-"

"For Guineawick," Hamma whispered, and he offered up the helmet. The smashed crest had been replaced by the town seal: the brothers Hodge and Podge with arms clasped over a capital G. Sven smiled and nodded.

"For Guineawick," he said. Then he looked up and addressed the crowd. "The beast has a plan, but fear not, for so shall we."

14

Sven stood in the small room and watched the mice of Guineawick through the window as they rushed to set his plan into motion. The familiar strike of Hamma's hammer echoed into the night, forging the tools of war. Sven frowned; only two short weeks and already he had brought violence to their doorstep.

The fire blazed, casting its amber-orange light over his armor. Sven sighed and resumed strapping on the silvery plates. He donned the helmet last, pausing first to gaze into its new crest. Finally he swung his great green cloak about his shoulders, and stepped up to the windowsill.

Sven caught his reflection in the bowl of water set on his nightstand; it invoked memories of his arrival in Guineawick and awaking in Hester's care. He lifted the bowl aloft.

"For you, mouse-maiden," he said. He raised the bowl to his lips, but a shuffling of clothes interrupted his toast and he returned the bowl to the windowsill.

"Please," Rizo said and then hobbled in on her crutch. Sven noted her disheveled appearance, then Hester's wet cloak hanging from her paws. "Please, bring back my little ones to me."

Sven returned his gaze out the window and into the night. Then a small grey paw touched his arm, and Rizo was beside him.

"I know what my husband did, what we did, was wrong. If we had listened to you..." Rizo began sobbing. Sven turned to comfort her and saw Argile standing in the doorway.

The mayor-regent's clothes were muddy, his black fur matted from the rain. Gone was his proud bearing. He approached and hugged his wife from behind. Dr. Cotton arrived a moment later, panting heavily as if he'd run clear across town.

"No, it's I who should be apologizing," Argile said. He eyed the doctor, then back to Sven. "It's my fault all this happened. Aman and Cotton and the others were right. I've botched this since the beginning."

Cotton raised his grey paw in protest, but Sven shot him a harsh stare.

"To lead a clan is to carry a heavy burden," Sven said. "No one is immune to pride."

"Please Sven, I beg of you, bring them back," Argile said. He dropped his head and lowered his ears.

"I swear I will find them and destroy the beasts responsible," Sven said. He lifted the parents' chins with a single paw. "I give my life to this end." Then he reached for the water bowl, but Cotton grabbed his forearm, and the bowl tumbled outside.

"How clumsy of me," Cotton said, and Sven put a paw on the doctor's shaking shoulder. "I'm so sorry... for everything really..."

Sven smiled and removed his paw; no more dallying. He bowed his head slightly, and then leaped through the window, his cloak fluttering behind him.

*****

The rabbit hurried to the square, and his rapid arrival caught everyone's attention. The Guardmice stopped filling their quivers and stared at him. Sven stood in the center of the square, where a patch of moonlight shined down through a break in the clouds.

Aman appeared with a dozen senior Guardmice, all armed with spears. "We're ready," he said. "We follow your lead." Sven nodded and clasped arms with the Guardmouse.

"Not without this!" boomed Hamma's voice. All watched the hamster as he walked into the square; he carried a long spear balanced over his shoulder. Then he held up the shining weapon, and Sven's calm nearly faltered at its brilliance.

The spear had no wooden haft, but was instead forged from a single shaft of metal. Sven twirled and swung the weapon overhead, to the astonishment of all. "It is so light," Sven said. "I have heard legends of such craft, the metal, is it-"

"Yes," Hamma said. "The ore was passed down by me family from generation to generation, a secret of hamster-craft long lost."

Sven smiled and they clasped arms; then he addressed the crowd. "Tonight, we go out to rescue Hester, Toby, and Zach from the clutches of foul beasts." He raised the new spear into the sky. "The thom is cunning, but we will prevail!" The crowd cheered, and Essl, Captain of the Guard, approached the rescue party.

"Until they return, the remaining Guard are to stand ready," he said. "All mice able to do so are asked to keep vigil. We assume nothing of the cat's motives." Then he approached Aman. "You're a fine Guard, Aman. Good luck." They clasped arms, and then Essl proceeded to salute the others in the party.

Jared appeared out of the crowd and stopped in front of Sven. He straightened his back and addressed the rabbit in high-rodent. "Go well, Sven Pawsgaard, son of Sig, son of Edgar, son of Erick."

"Stay well, Jared of Guineawick," Sven said, and then he met Aman's eyes. "Guardmice, onward!" Together the party made for the North Gate at a run, passing quickly under the sentries patrolling the town wall.

Sven hoped they weren't too late.

15

Hester lost track of time; hanging by her tail had made stomach sick, and her voice had gone hoarse from screaming. She struggled to catch a glimpse of her brothers, but saw nothing but the rush of the dark forest. Finally, after an eternity of bounding and leaping, the beasts stopped, she tried to gain her bearings.

The weasel released her tail, and Hester hit the ground with a wet smack. Her body ached, and she could hear the weasel hiss above her. Hester shivered; the trail led to a massive tree surrounded by a dense black thicket. Then with two more wet smacks her brothers landed behind her.

"Zach? Toby?" Hester tried to stand, but she slipped in the slick mud, and fell onto a rock. Pain shot through her head and her vision blurred. Then she felt sharp claws dig into the back of her neck; the weasel dragged her toward the thicket, and she passed out.

Hester awoke in pain, and she struggled into a seated position. Buzzing filled her ears, and her neck and head throbbed with her heartbeat. She breathed heavily, and when the buzzing finally faded she began groping in the dark for her brothers.

"Toby? Zach? Are you two alright?" She fumbled about with her paws in front of her, when a new pain pricked her palm. Hester squinted through the tears and saw a tangled wall of thorns before her.

"Here Hester," Zach cried from somewhere behind her. Hester turned and crawled toward the sound of his breathing; as she got closer she heard Toby's soft whimper.

"I want Mom," Toby said, and Hester pulled the three of them together in the dark. Hester rubbed their fur with her paws while trying to control her own chattering teeth. The ground was hard but dry, and despite their lost cloaks they began to warm up.

"Everything is going to be alright," Hester said.

"Where are we?" Zach asked. "Where are the weasels?"

"We're in a bramble I think," Hester said. She glanced around the darkness again, but could see no sign of their foul attackers. "Wait, did you hear that?"

"Maybe they're gone," Zach said, ignoring his sister. "Maybe they've left us, we should-"

"Shhh!" Hester hissed and she clamped his mouth shut. Zach mumbled into her paw, but Hester's ears were perked; what was that noise? It was faint, like the far off babble of the river. "Is that the Hodge?"

The babble deepened into a low rumble like thunder, and Hester's fur stood on end. The rumbling filled the air, pulsing in and out. The mice shook, gripped with a primal fear they didn't understand. Hester held her brothers tight and strained to see in the black.

A glimmer of emerald green shined high above them and Hester gasped. She remembered Sven's words.

"What is it?" Zach asked. "Is it the weasels?" Hester's heart fluttered and her breath went shallow. The rumble wasn't thunder, or the babble of the river.

It was purring.

Hester hushed Toby and tried to soothe him, but her eyes betrayed her terror. Then the soft pats of padded footsteps joined them in the dark, and Hester's eyes darted upward as she searched for the emerald glimmers again.

She swallowed and tried to call out, but her voice hardly broke a whisper. "What do you want with us?"

The purring stopped, but no one answered. Hester whispered again; but again, no one answered. She heard nothing but the thump of her own heart.

Suddenly a deafening crackle sounded and the bramble shook violently all around. Toby cried out, and Hester hurried to shelter her brothers from the rain of dirt and twigs that fell upon them.

They shouted for it to stop. They cried for help, cried for their parents, but the shaking continued.

"Why are you doing this?" Hester shouted, and then coughed to clear her voice. She could hear a deep chuckle from beyond the bramble, and her fear tipped slowly into anger.

She knew when she was being teased.

"Stop it!" Hester shouted in the old tongue. To her surprise, the rustling of the bramble ceased. Hester took a deep breath, a vague idea forming in her mind.

She pushed Zach and Toby together, and ignoring their protests, crawled back to the bramble wall. She grabbed the twisted branches, careful to avoid the thorns. Her heart raced with fear and anger and excitement.

"Thom!" Hester shouted, and she rustled the bramble herself. She bit at her lip, and then called again. "Why don't you just eat us now and get it over with?"

Bright green eyes flashed through the vines, and Hester fell back onto her tail. She stared up at the afterimage of the beast's massive face.

"Get it over with?" the cat said in the old tongue. "Be careful what you wish for, little mouse."

16

Hester swallowed hard and gripped at the dirt with her paws. "I'm not scared!" she shouted, and was surprised at the strength of her voice. "You don't frighten me!"

"Is that so?" the cat asked. His eyes flashed through the bramble again, and Hester scrambled back to her brothers. "You will forgive me if I don't believe you."

"I think you're the one who's scared," Hester said over her shoulder. "You're the one hiding in the shadows." The cat was silent for a long while, his purrs reduced to a low whisper.

"I haven't heard one of your kind speak a civilized tongue in quite some time," he said. "I'm... surprised, little one."

"Don't call me that," Hester said. "Stop toying with us and show yourself!"

"Show myself?" the cat asked. "Didn't I warn you about wishes? But if you insist..." Then the cat hissed something that Hester couldn't understand, and then there was light.

Hester shielded her eyes in Zach's fur, and waited for her pupils to adjust. Then she stared up through the tick mat of thorny vines; her mouth gaped and words escaped her.

She had never seen so large a creature; the cat towered over the bramble. His paws could easily cover a mouse whole, and the hint of claws made her shiver. His legs were as thick around as Hamma's waist, and his body was covered in the purest white fur, all the way down to the tip of his lazily twitching tail.

But it was the beast's face that demanded Hester's attention. His eyes shone emerald, shimmering like the moon on the Hodge. Two large fangs jutted from the corners of his mouth and past his chin. A twitch of his long whiskers and a fierce grin made Hester's heart race.

"Why so quiet?" the cat asked, and he sidled up to the bramble. "You were just becoming interesting, little one."

Hester broke her gaze away from the cat and finally looked around. Charred wood walls lay beyond the thick mat of bramble that trapped her and her brothers; the base of the tree must have been hollowed by fire.

Four large weasels stood posted around the tree hollow, each with a wooden torch. Sharpness defined the foul creatures: sharp eyes, sharp snouts, and very sharp teeth. They licked their lips and sneered at the trapped mice. Hester's eyes darted between their long tubular bodies; the closest weasel hissed and snapped at the bramble.

Hester stared at the ground. "I said, don't call me little one." Then she took a deep breath and met the cat's eyes. "My name is Hester." The cat smiled and purred.

"Peaceful greetings, Hester," the cat said with a chuckle.

"And your name?" Hester asked.

"You couldn't pronounce it," the cat said. "But-"

"Peaceful greetings, thom," Hester said, and the cat laughed at the interruption.

"I like you Hester," he said. "A little rough around the edges perhaps, but oh to talk with someone intelligent for a change."

Hester fought the urge to squeeze her tail. "You never answered my question," she said. Her voice trembled a little. "Why don't you just eat us?"

"Oh my, I seem to have placed you on too high a pedestal," the cat said with a smirk. "You speak, so I assumed intelligence. A shame." He lay down and began lazily tapping at the bramble with his paw.

"Scared to answer my question, thom?" Hester asked. "It's stupid to just wait; Sven and the Guard will surely track us here." The cat raised an eyebrow.

"There's hope for you yet Hester," he said. "A good hunter is a patient one, and I am a very good hunter. But you're wrong about the rabbit."

"What are you saying?" Hester asked.

"Of course your little warriors will track you here," the cat said. "That's entirely the point of bait." Hester swallowed hard, and checked on her brothers. They were still curled up on the ground and shaking violently.

"Then this is all a trap for Sven?"

"My dear Hester, how much you underestimate me." The cat sighed. "And Sven too, for that matter."

"I don't understand-"

"Hester, I don't need bait to lure out that pestering rabbit," the cat said. "He's been chasing me for quite some time. But no longer; I've seen to that." The cat's teeth shone then when he smiled, and Hester's eyes widened.

"What do you mean? What have you done to Sven?"

"I'd love to draw this all out, but I'm afraid I'm on a rather tight schedule this evening." Then the cat stretched and arched his back. "Your town is well defended, and the weasels will need rallying."

"Weasels?" She had nearly forgotten about the weasels in the hollow. But somehow she knew those weren't the weasels he was referring to. "How many?"

"Many." The cat hissed some commands at the weasels present. Their obvious excitement made Hester's stomach twist into a knot.

"And the one before, the one that attacked my mother?" Hester's heart beat faster. "He was one of yours too wasn't he?"

"I will miss Lieutenant Little-Snout," the cat said. "He was brighter than most of his kin, though that's not saying much. But, like you, they're simply the means to an end." Then the cat strutted toward the entrance of the hollow. "The end of Pawsgaard, in this case."

Tears flowed from Hester's eyes. "He'll kill you!" she shouted. "You won't win!"

"If only all your kin were so loyal."

"I don't understand," Hester said.

"Let's just say that Pawsgaard will be helpless to stop me." The weasels were closer to the bramble now, and had begun licking their lips. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your little warriors will be here shortly, and I have a mousetown to sack."

Zach and Toby squeezed her from behind. "Everything's going to be okay," she mumbled over and over.

"It was a pleasure speaking with you," the cat said. He nodded to the weasels as he left. "I hadn't expected a fellow snow-fur this far south, let alone a civilized little rodent such as you. Most exciting. Stay well, little one."

17

When the rescue party was finally out of sight of the town, Sven called them to a halt. The clouds had broken and the moon shined brightly overhead. The mice gathered about Sven with confused looks on their faces; Sven looked up to the moon, and giving his cloak to Aman, addressed the Guardmice.

"I won't lie to you," he said. "I foresee a long night ahead of us; a dangerous night." The Guardmice nodded in unison. Then Sven reached down to the ground and pulled up a wad of wet earth. The mice stared, first with confusion, and then understanding, as the white rabbit smeared the black mud on his body, dirtying his fur and tarnishing his armor.

They followed his lead, even the black-furs for whom the camouflage was unnecessary. When they finished, they grinned, flashing their white teeth at one another in the night. Sven nodded his approval. "Push on, two abreast." Then he took back his cloak and together they all sprinted off on the weasels' trail.

They ran for a long time, following the pattering of paw prints left in the mud. They passed tree after tree in the great forest, when suddenly, Sven called the group to a halt again. None showed fatigue, but the short-legged mice were thankful for the break nonetheless.

Sven scanned the nearby trees, which were large with trunks spaced closely together. He went to the nearest tree and pawed the bark. Something wasn't right, but what? He looked upward; the trees had large, thick branches that intertwined with their neighbors.

"What's wrong?" Aman asked. "We must be on the right trail."

"Something about this trail is wrong," Sven said. "It's too easy. It doesn't make sense; he wouldn't be so careless."

"Perhaps he's not involved at all."

"You don't know him."

The mice looked to one another. "What are your orders?" Aman asked.

Sven sniffed the air and pawed at the tree trunk again. "I need to know what's ahead-"

"I could find out," Aman said. A slight twitter rippled in his whiskers.

Sven looked the young Guardmouse in the eyes, and nodded his approval. "Stick to the shadows, and if you find anything, wait for us. We'll break here for the moment. Be careful, Aman, nothing fancy."

Aman nodded, and took off down the path.

*****

Aman followed the weasels' trail over roots and branches, tracking their skinny footprints in the mud, but he could scarcely hear the sound of his footsteps over the beat of his heart. Sven was counting on him.

He crested a small hill, and instinct flaring, dove into the brush. He lay prone on a bed of wet leaves and tried to slow his breathing. Calm down Aman. Then, ever so carefully, he peeked out.

An enormous tree stood up ahead with a thorny patch around its base. A faint light shone from somewhere deep within, right where the weasels' trail led. Aman spotted something else too: a pair of lumps in the mud that together cast a long shadow across the path.

"Mouse cloaks," he whispered. "Probably the boys'."

Aman couldn't see the weasels, or any other signs of Hester and her brothers. He crawled on his paws and knees through the brush to get a closer look, and then perked his ears; were those voices?

Suddenly something large blocked the light, and Aman curled back, reflexively clutching his spear. He couldn't see anything but the twinkle of stars peeking through the canopy.

Then the light returned, and Aman watched a giant shadow climb effortlessly up the tree. The shadow slid around the trunk and stopped in the crook of two branches. It was the cat, he was sure of it. Fear struck him then, the kind only prey feels and he shivered from tip to tail.

The cat leaped to the branches of the next tree, and Aman lay silent, unsure of how to proceed. Though high in the trees, the cat was definitely heading toward Guineawick. Should he turn back? A flicker of light from the thicket caught his attention.

Steeling himself, he took up his spear and hurried toward the tree. He confirmed that the lumps were indeed mouse cloaks; better leave them as markers for Sven and the others.

Aman hunched low and moved deeper into the thicket. The light came from a hole at the base of the tree, and he navigated the thick thorns by keeping to the trail of drag marks on the ground.

He peered into the entrance of the hollow, and his whiskers drooped. He saw the bramble cage, saw the weasels closing in. Then he saw where the snake of thicket vines led toward the hollow's ceiling, and suddenly a plan formed in his mind. Aman put his spear to his back and began to climb.

18

Hester hung on to her brothers and tried to comfort them. The weasels looked restless; they bickered at one another with their hissing and clicks. She didn't need to know their tongue to understand their looks.

They were hungry.

"I wanna see Mom," Toby cried and Hester squeezed him closer.

"Me too," she said. "Don't worry, Sven will come." She hid their faces in her fur, and watched as the weasels inched closer.

Zach lifted his head and met her own tearful gaze, when surprise flashed in his whiskers. Hester saw his eyes widen as he stared not at, but past her. She followed his gaze through the bramble and up to the ceiling; she could just make out the glint of metal. It was Aman! She quickly looked down and stifled Zach.

The Guardmouse froze on the roof of the bramble cage; Zach had seen him. He stared down through the thick thorny vines, hoping Zach did not betray his position. He breathed a sigh of relief when Hester contained her little brother.

Three of the weasels closed in around the bramble: one at the front, and the others on opposite sides. The fourth weasel, obviously the leader of the group, stayed back and hissed orders. Aman began edging down the front wall, and reached for his spear.

Keep it simple, Aman; Sven said nothing fancy.

The three weasels licked their lips, then put down their torches and bent on their haunches. The bramble shook as they began to lift the cage, and seeing his opening, Aman kicked off the front wall with his spear drawn.

"Up here!" Aman shouted, and he landed on the lead weasel. The beast threw up his arms to defend himself, but Aman's spear pierced his shoulder, and together they fell to the ground.

Before the others could register the attack, Aman rolled off of their comrade and drew his sword. The three weasels turned around to see the little mud-caked mouse nervously pointing his blade back and forth between them. Then they saw their dead leader, and their surprise quickly turned to angry snarls.

"Run Aman!" Hester shouted. "They're gonna attack Guineawick!" The weasels moved to surround him, but Aman backed up against the charred wall and grabbed up the fallen weasel's torch.

"I won't leave you!" Aman shouted, and he waved the torch at the monsters. Two recoiled at the flames, but the closest batted the torch from Aman's paws. Hester rushed to the wall of thorns.

"You've got to warn Sven!" she yelled. The weasels laughed and advanced.

"Consider him warned," a deep voice boomed. Everyone stopped and snapped their heads to the figure in the entrance.

Hester nearly jumped for joy as Sven charged into the hollow.

The weasels turned to face him, but shrank back when they saw the half-dozen Guardmice trailing behind. One weasel ran forward, and Sven speared the beast in the chest. Then he arced the spear up and over his head, dumping the dead weasel on the ground behind him.

Seeing another comrade fall, the remaining weasels panicked and tried to escape. Unfortunately for them the hollow's only exit lay past Sven. Aman led the Guardmice to surround one weasel, while Sven tackled the last, throwing the beast up onto the bramble cage.

The shock of the collision threw Hester back into her brothers. As the siblings untangled themselves, they heard another cry, and then all went silent. The weasel on the bramble wall shook slightly, and then flew off as Sven threw the bloodied corpse onto a pile with the others.

"Sven!" Hester cried. "I knew you'd come."

"Stand back," Sven said. He pushed the tip of his silvery spear under the bramble, and using it as a lever, lifted the thorns high enough for the three mice to escape.

Hester ran and hugged him, unashamed of their collective filth. She buried herself in his muddy white fur, and soon her brothers joined them. "You came!" she said, tears in her eyes.

"Hester," Sven said, and he grasped her shoulders. "You wanted Aman to warn me. Where's the thom? Why were there weasels guarding you?"

"There's no time," Hester said rapidly. "We were just bait. The thom, he has a weasel army. They're going to attack Guineawick. He said you'd still be there, he wants to kill you..."

Sven didn't have time to unravel the details of the beast's plot. He had left the town on guard, but who knew how big the thom's army would be? Doubtless the beasts would attack Guineawick with much more force than could be handled normally.

He took a deep breath and searched for Aman. The brown-fur had finally managed to retrieve his spear from the weasel's shoulder; a full third of the haft had been embedded in the corpse. Aman wiped the weapon on the body, and then came to Hester's side.

Sven let them share a silent moment. Perhaps it would be the first of many. That is, if they survived the night. The rabbit looked over the faces of the Guardmice and he saw their uncertainty, smelled their fear.

"Sven," Aman said. "I saw the thom. He left just before I entered the hollow." Sven's eyes narrowed.

"We must get back, and quickly!"

19

A patrol marched along the top of the outer wall, their backs erect and their tails alert. Each Guardmouse carried a weapon at the ready; some brandished spears, others the more traditional sword or bow and arrow. Torches brightened every joint and intersection of the wall, marking where quivers of javelins and arrows lay waiting.

The Guardmice kept on their heavy cloaks; the rain had stopped, but the air was still uncomfortably cool. The wall lacked the usual jokes and ribbing, replaced now with curt orders followed by curter nods. They waited and executed the two orders they could: keep their eyes open and the torches lit.

Argile and Rizo sat on the long bench which lined the perimeter of Town Hall's auditorium. There they enjoyed relative privacy from the other townsmice who had taken refuge within the stone walls. Those unable to fight lay spread on blankets and cushions retrieved from the cellar. Mothers held their swaddled young close; the old sat hunched on folding chairs. The children lay in hushed little groups, too scared to sleep yet too tired to do much else.

The mayor-regent squeezed his wife's shoulder and smiled. She offered up a blank stare, and then returned to twirling her crutch. He sighed: at least she had stopped crying.

Jared sat on the edge of the main stage, swinging his feet and tail in quiet contemplation. The grey-fur's brow was knit; his eyes unfocused and distant. The hunch in his back betrayed the great many thoughts weighing down upon him. Then Rizo broke the silence.

"We never told her," she said. Jared's ears perked and his eyes blinked as left his reverie. Argile reached for her paw. "And not just about the cat."

Argile searched for his diplomatic voice, but words failed him. "We did what we thought best..." Jared stared at the burgundy-wrapped matriarch, but when she looked to him he quickly lowered his head.

Rizo released her husband's grasp and hobbled over to Jared. She leaned on the stage and clasped the old mouse's paw.

"I remember the night you brought her," she whispered. "So small, the first hints of that white fur. Do you remember?"

"Yes," Jared said, still avoiding her eyes. "I remember."

"Why did we ever..." Tears threatened, and she rubbed at her face. Of all the silly... what was he looking at? Jared wasn't listening; his gaze was past her, his ears perked high. "Jared? What is it?"

Dr. Cotton had entered the room, conspicuously without an escort of Nurses. He approached Argile with his head hung low. His fur was damp and matted, and he spoke in a hushed voice.

"Argile, we need to talk."

"Is something wrong?" Argile asked. "Are the Nurses ready?"

"No, I mean yes," Cotton said. He took a deep breath and Jared perked his ears even higher. "Yes, the Nurses are ready; I've got them on rotating shifts."

"Good," Argile said. "Anything else?"

But before the doctor could answer, Jared leaped down from the stage and rushed down the center aisle. Nervous eyes followed him as he squeezed through the rows of chairs.

"Jared?" Rizo asked. Jared turned back toward the others.

"It's happening," he said, and all followed his finger toward the main door. Argile and Cotton hurried to his side; Rizo followed further behind, hobbling as fast as her crutch would allow.

Two Guardmice arrived and stopped the four at the entrance. They heard cries from outside, then the loud clang, clang of the emergency bell. Argile pushed his way forward.

"What is it? What's happening?"

"Weasels!" one of the Guardmice said. Jared tried to push his way out the door, but the other Guardmouse stopped him.

"Sir, you should stay in here where it's safe."

"Don't you sir me," Jared said, and he pushed past the Guard. He waited on the step for his eyes to adjust, and then peered over the town. Argile and the others joined him, just as a squad of Guardmice ran past with their weapons drawn. Then Jared scanned the flurry of activity on the northern wall.

"Look!" Jared shouted, pointing at a dark silhouette slithering over the wall. Another followed, then another. Gasps sounded from behind him, and then screams. Argile grabbed his wife's forearm.

"Rizo, get back inside."

The battle for Guineawick had begun.

20

"Fire!"

Arrows and javelins hailed down from the wall at Essl's command. The captain stood high at his post in the North Gate tower, and loosed an arrow of his own. Weasels clamored at the wall, more weasels than the veteran Guardmouse had ever seen before.

Essl grabbed a torch and leaned over the side. A group of the monsters charged the gate; the heavy doors creaked with each collision, but they held.

"The gate!" Essl shouted. "Don't let them batter the gate!" A flurry of arrows and javelins sailed toward the attackers, but unfortunately too many missed their mark. Essl turned to shout another order, when the snarling teeth of a weasel snapped up from behind him. The captain stumbled forward and the beast hoisted itself onto the wall.

Essl rolled onto his back and stared up at the snarling beast. An arrow struck its shoulder and the creature howled in pain. Then a javelin hit its chest and sent it back over the side. Essl pulled himself to his feet and nodded to the Guardmice who had saved him.

"Don't let them into the town!" Essl said. Terror flashed over their eyes, and Essl tried to turn, but he was too late; a claw swung out from the darkness and hit him hard in the chest. The blow sent the captain skyward and then crashing through a nearby rooftop.

Essl couldn't see what kind of room he was in, but he could see the weasel through his hole in the roof; the beast dodged the missiles fired at it, and slid down the inside of the town wall. Essl gritted his teeth and crawled toward the nearest open doorway. There he stood with his sword drawn and cursed at the pain.

"The gate!" he shouted. He tasted blood and spat. "It's trying to open the gate!"

With a loud clank, the weasel lifted the bar on the gate and pushed it open, letting in a dozen more of its screeching companions. Once inside the walls they scattered, each working destruction in different directions.

"They've breached the wall!" Essl shouted. He cursed and pointed his sword at the closest patrol. "Archers! Spread out along the wall and keep firing!" The grey-fur winced in pain, and grabbed at his ribs. His paw was damp and sticky with dark red blood. Perfect.

"The rest of you down to the street!" he shouted, and mustered his strength. "We have to trap them in the alleys! Don't let them get out into the open!"

The Guardmice hurried to obey his orders. Those already on the ground took to the chase, using their spears to steer the weasels into the narrow alleyways. Cornered, the beasts snapped and slashed at their pursuers, but the Guards' long weapons kept them at bay.

Arrows fell upon the beasts then, and those who were not killed scrambled toward the rooftops. There they met the archers again; many weasels were sent back down to their deaths.

The invaders fought nastily but were disorganized, and the Guardmice made strong strides against them. Claws struck with sword and spear; the air whistled with arrows and javelins. But despite their lack of discipline, the weasels exacted their toll: the streets were littered with the bodies of mice, Guard and civilian alike.

Essl stood among the bodies of his brethren, staring at the road stained red and black. It was all too quiet; he didn't like it. Then came a loud laugh, deep and terrible. Essl cursed yet again.

The building next to Essl smashed into splinters, sending the captain to the ground. His body ached all over, and he struggled to raise his head.

The cat stood amidst the wreckage, its nose high and proud. Essl balked at its enormity: the thom was more massive than any creature he had ever encountered.

A wall of arrows sailed toward the great white beast, but they bounced off its fur like pine needles on rocks. The thom snarled and laughed again, and with a swipe of his paw launched a band of archers up and out into the black sky.

"Pawsgaard?" the thom called. Essl struggled to stand, rising slowly and using his sword to steady himself. He followed the thom as the beast padded triumphantly toward Hamma's smithy.

Seeing the thom, the remaining weasels hissed and fought with increased ferocity. They took advantage of the fear-stricken mice, springing down on them like birds of prey. Many Guardmice fell with their eyes still following the great cat.

One weasel arrived at the smithy ahead of the thom. It pointed eagerly past the forge to Hamma's house, and hissed at its master. The thom smiled and hissed back. Essl stopped to catch his breath under the awning of a bakery.

The weasel did not see the hammer until it was too late.

From behind the beast Hamma swung, knocking the weasel down and splaying it out over the square. The blacksmith roared and brought the giant hammer down, crushing the beast's skull with the mighty blow. The Guardmice broke from their fearful stupor and rallied.

"You don't frighten me cat!" Hamma shouted, and then he swung at the thom. Essl hobbled across the square and joined the Guardmice running to Hamma's aid. The hamster charged at the cat, proving himself to be a courageous, if crude, fighter.

Essl hobbled as fast as he could. Can't stop, might not get started again. A weasel landed in front of him, and he jabbed his sword into the beast's stomach. The weasel fell, and Essl rolled to avoid its claws.

But his sluggish dodge wasn't enough; three of the beast's nails raked across his back. Essl cried out in pain as he collided into a flower box and his wind was cut short.

He choked and coughed and tried to regain his breath, while the thom batted Hamma away with a strong swipe. They were losing. Until the cat had come, the battle had ebbed to the side of the Guard, if only by a tail. Now, the certainty of death filled the veteran Guardmouse, and he struggled to stand.

The thom continued toward the back of Hamma's house, and knelt down before the large window at Sven's room. Its nose flared, and Essl saw anger and confusion flash in its green eyes. The thom snarled and shouted something in the old-tongue. Then he locked eyes with Essl.

"You! Where is he?" the thom shouted, this time in low-rodent. It strutted back into the square and roared, then with claws out pinned Essl to the ground and roared again.

Essl choked and gargled, but the thom's massive frame crushed his already beaten body. Even if he wanted to answer, the thom gave him no opportunity. Essl's eyesight dimmed and his struggles stopped. But then, in the moment before the darkness claimed him, Essl thought he heard another voice.

"I'm right here," it said.

21

Sven crashed into the thom at top speed and knocked the surprised beast from its feet. The two white titans rolled together, and carried by Sven's momentum, smashed into Hamma's forge. Sven managed to kick himself away, but the cat landed directly in the fires. The monster screeched in agony and tumbled to the ground, sending hot coals in every direction.

The thom rolled on the ground and tried desperately to smother the flames licking at its fur. Sven had landed on his feet, but quickly dropped to the ground, discarding his helmet and gasping for air. Both combatants were dusted with black soot; Sven coughed and gagged as the hot ash choked him. Then, though he couldn't see and was in much pain, he began a frantic search for his lost spear.

The arrival of Sven brought renewed hope to the Guardmice of Guineawick, and they rallied once more against the weasels. But soon shouts echoed all around them, shouts that struck panic in their hearts.

"Fire! Fire!"

Sven heard the frenzied shouts to his right, and when he turned his head he spotted the glint of his spear. Blinking the blur from his eyes he rushed to regain his weapon. The hot ash had settled; what was that smell? He stopped to see what was happening.

Some of the scattered coals had crashed through the nearby shop windows. Smoke and flames coughed forth, spreading easily across the narrow alleys to the neighboring buildings. Since the Guardmice were too occupied fighting the weasels, many civilian townsmice now hurried from their safe havens to fight the growing blaze.

The slight distraction was all the thom needed; the beast pounced on Sven, knocking away the rabbit's spear. It swiped and clawed and bit, and though it could not penetrate Sven's armor, the rabbit felt the shock of each impact. He tried to return the blows, but without his spear he could do little more than try to absorb the thom's vicious attacks.

Rain began to fall, and thunder echoed in the distance. Sven struggled to defend himself, waiting for an opening. The beast laughed and roared as he continued to batter the rabbit with heavier and heavier blows. Self-doubt tickled the back of Sven's mind: their last encounter had almost been his last. How much longer he could hold out?

Lightning flashed, and he saw his opening. Sven kicked with his powerful legs, sending the cat across the square and into the town wall. The beast howled in pain; the collision had shook his minions even as it had shook the very ground. Then a cry followed, echoing from the nearby North Gate.

"For Guineawick!" Aman shouted. His party had returned, and entered with weapons at the ready.

The thom glanced nervously at the newcomers, and with a scowl opted for retreat. He leaped from building to building, heading east, and quickly vanished over the town wall. Sven uttered a pained laugh and then followed in hot pursuit.

Hope flourished in the hearts of the Guardmice, and in that moment the tide shifted one final time. They took up the cry "For Guineawick!", and joined by their brothers, made one last push against the weasels.

Abandoned by their leader and sensing the Guard's newfound zeal, the beasts panicked and began to flee. The Guard charged forth, and soon the ground was littered with the bodies of those unable, or unwilling, to escape.

The battle won, the Guardmice rallied around Aman. He took charge immediately, and began organizing the firefighting effort. He ordered mice to water lines and called for all to bring their buckets. No one questioned his authority.

As he got closer to Hamma's smithy, Aman found what remained of Essl. Aman stood at the captain's feet, directing the flurry of activity around him, when Hester and her brothers finally arrived.

"Where's Sven?" Hester asked. She saw Essl's crushed body, and quickly covered her brothers' eyes. Aman was about to answer, when they heard shouts from up toward Town Hall. Then they saw Rizo, practically tripping over her crutch.

"Hester! My boys!" she cried. Hearing her voice, the boys ran to their mother, pressing themselves into her wet fur. Argile arrived out of breath, and joined the hug.

Dr. Cotton followed, issuing orders to a swarm of Nurses. The young mice scattered out to tend the wounded and Hester and Cotton's eyes met for a brief moment. Hester couldn't place the strange expression that crossed the doctor's face, but before she could say anything, Aman ran past with Sven's spear in his paw. Sven!

The townsmice had begun to cheer, but Hester was already running toward the East Gate after Aman.

22

The Guardmice stationed at the eastern wall had just let Aman pass when Hester bolted by. Her legs and lungs burned as she ran, leaping off of the road and down through the fields. She couldn't see Aman in the stinging rain, but she had no difficulty following the thom's deep tracks.

Hester yipped as her foot snagged on a peanut vine and sent her tumbling. She splashed inside one of the thom's paw prints where the rain had collected into a shallow puddle. The soaked mouse scrambled to her feet and was soon out of the gardens, running on the grassy hills toward the Hodge.

She crested a hill and stopped to kneel on her haunches and catch her breath. She saw movement up ahead, and squinting her eyes could just make out the tall silhouettes of Sven and the thom. The two figures circled one another in a clearing only a few hillocks away. Hester took a deep breath and continued running.

The black silhouettes resolved to white as she got closer; the rain had washed away the mud and ash. She had just crested another hill when she spotted Aman at Sven's side, and could hear their shouts over the rain.

"You won't escape this time!" Sven said. "The chase is over and justice has found you." Sven held his head high. "You murdered my clan, slaughtered my family."

The thom chuckled, but then flashed a grimace of pain; his fur was stained red with blood. "I've slaughtered many families, rabbit," the monster said. He ran his tongue over his fangs then smiled, his eyes twinkling emerald in the starlight. "But I must say, I do relish the taste of young rabbit."

"I will kill you," Sven said. "I will kill you, if it's the last thing I do."

"I defeated you once before and now will be no different. You'll fail here, just as you failed to save your family." Aman pointed his sword at the beast, invoking its laughter. "I doubt your contributions will measure little one."

Hester squeezed her nails into her palms as she listened to the thom's words. She had to get closer. Moving quietly, she slid down the hillock and crawled in the grass on her paws and knees. Up ahead the three continued their standoff: Sven brandished his spear at the thom, while Aman stood ready at the rabbit's side.

Suddenly Sven stopped, closed his eyes and spoke. "I am Sven Pawsgaard, son of Sig, son of Edgar, son of Erick." He raised his face to the rain, and taking a deep breath, began to sing. He began quietly, but his voice grew louder and louder as he sang the deeds of his family.

The song was beautiful: an ancient birthright passed down from father to son in an unbroken line. The words recalled the many triumphs of the Pawsgaard clan, and Hester's heart swayed with the rise and fall of Sven's voice. Tears came from her eyes as the high-rodent words echoed over the Greater Gardens.

The cat smirked with mild annoyance at the rabbit's warrior-song, but then something else caught Hester's notice.

She realized that the beast stood near the spot where the weasel, Lieutenant Little-Snout, had died just a few days before. Hester's heart fluttered; Sven had lowered his paw and discreetly passed his spear to Aman.

The thom's back was to the Hodge, but the cat made no acknowledgement of the river. The water ran fast with the fresh rains, but its sound was well hidden by the storm. Aman shifted slowly behind Sven, and Hester stared on in dreadful anticipation.

Finally, Sven's song came to a close. The rabbit took another deep breath, and then lowered his eyes to face the thom. "And on the banks of Hodge River, among unexpected friends, Sven did avenge his family, taking the foul beast from this world." He turned his head and looked down at Hester. "Tonight, I avenge you all," he whispered.

The thom followed Sven's eyes to Hester, and then the rabbit made his move. He charged forward, his warrior-cry ringing out for all to hear, and Aman leaped onto his back with the long silver spear thrust forward. Hester screamed.

The thom was caught off guard, and too late tried to drop to its haunches in defense. Sven tackled the beast and the two white bodies collided with a clap of thunder. Aman yelled as the spear bit deep into the beast's flesh.

The thom howled in pain, and frantically grasped onto Sven's armor. The rabbit was unable to kick free, and together the three launched into the river.

"No!" Hester shouted, and she ran to the riverbank. Sven and the thom burst up from the water, each trying to wrestle the other under the strong current. They bit and clawed at one another while also fighting to keep their own heads above the rapids.

Hester scanned the water with her eyes, when Aman burst up, pawing at the waves. Somehow he'd managed to leap free from Sven's back. "Aman!" Hester cried. He spun around, and after a hard swim grabbed onto the white reeds growing near the shoreline.

Aman gasped for breath, and Hester helped pull him out of the water. Together they watched as the current dragged away the battling titans. Then finally they disappeared, the river swallowing them whole.

Hester went to jump in after them, but Aman caught her by the waist. She yelled and struggled against him. "Let me go! Sven!"

"He's gone, Hester!" Aman shouted. She finally relented, and collapsed into his arms.

Aman held her tight while they both cried.

Epilogue

The air in Guineawick was rich with the smells of new flowers in bloom, for spring had come at last.

After so much destruction, the mice had endured a rough winter, but now with the sun shining down and the frost melting away, they had more or less returned to their regular lives.

Argile led the Town Council in restoring the buildings lost to fire and wreckage. As grief for the lost faded, the community joined together with a new sense of purpose stirring in their breasts. So then did the mice begin a great reconstruction of their little town.

Jared retired from selling reeds, and found himself at the very center of the reconstruction effort. Never before had his wisdom been so valued. His advice and counsel was gathered for nearly every project and initiative.

Hester wanted to help, but she was busy enough these days. There was a renewed interest in high-rodent, and Hester had, at Jared's encouragement, enlisted at the schoolhouse as a new teacher-in-training. She quickly found that a schoolteacher's work did not end with the final bell, and spent long evenings preparing lessons. With her new responsibilities she found precious little time to visit her old friend at "Jared's Burrow".

One particularly fine afternoon after class, Hester walked through the town square, enjoying the sun. She held a large bundle of lessons in the crook of her arm, the papers tied neatly with a bit of twine.

"Peaceful greetings, Hester," a passing childmouse said in the old tongue. Hester smiled at Emily, one of her prized students.

"Peaceful greetings, Emily," Hester said, and watched as the little girl ran back to her mother.

Hester continued her afternoon walk, when she spotted Aman up ahead. He was busy sizing up the latest recruits to the Guard, showing them the proper way to hold a spear. He caught her staring and winked at her. Hester blushed; she wasn't that self-conscious about being the only white-fur in town anymore. Aman certainly helped with that.

She had grown in many ways over the last few months, but her curiosity remained, and she could not completely abandon the many questions that had arisen during Sven's time in Guineawick. At night she often found herself puzzling over the thom's words in the bramble. She wanted to ask Dr. Cotton about his words the night of the Harvest Festival too.

But the thom was dead, and in the aftermath of the battle the doctor was a very busy mouse. More so, Cotton acted strangely humble around her, rarely meeting her eyes. When she had asked Aman for a reason, he had simply shrugged. Eventually the questions receded to the back of her mind, as she focused on her newfound work.

As for her family, though her brothers were perhaps a little less annoying, her parents had not changed one bit. Though she never fully forgave them for lying about the thom, she could not help but love them anyways. It was a time to look forward, not back.

News of the great battle had spread far and wide, sparking new interest in the town and its residents. Hester walked past a row of new shops; earlier that week some squirrels had come into the market for the first time in years. Yes, Guineawick was on its way back into prominence.

Hester strolled up the road toward Town Hall, following the sound of hammering. A giant statue stood at the top of the hill, and Hamma was hard at work putting on the final touches. Jared stood among a crowd of townsmice; Hester noticed some squirrels and even a few hamsters present as well.

"It's finished!" Hamma said, to much applause.

Hester walked up to the statue of Sven and smiled. The rabbit was cast in silver, standing tall in his armor, holding his helmet in one paw and his spear in the other. A plaque rested at his feet, and read in both tongues, common and old:

For the northern rabbit whose bravery we know,  
For the stranger who gave his life for the mice of Guineawick.  
For the night when the river claimed both friend and foe,  
For Sven Pawsgaard, son of Sig, son of Edgar, son of Erick.

The audience eventually dispersed, and Jared gazed at the statue and at Hester. Someday, when his time came, he would pass on the title of Jared to her, as it had been passed on to him, so long ago.

Someday, he would have to tell her about her past. But not today.

He turned to leave, when he overheard two squirrels conversing nearby, and perked up his ears.

"You know," one said to the other, "I swear I've seen a rabbit with a spear just like that. Same crest on his armor and everything."

"You've never seen a white rabbit," the other said.

Jared smiled, and twitched his large round ears.

THE END

About The Author

Jon Thysell is a writer and test engineer currently living in the Pacific Northwest. When he's not writing, he plays video games with his girlfriend; sometimes she even lets him win.

Website: http://jon.thysell.us Twitter: <http://twitter.com/jonthysell>
