Well, my first crack at Green Ember fan fiction went well, so we're going to try this again. As with the previous story, this installment will take place during the latter chapters of Ember's End. As such, it will naturally contain SPOILERS for that book and the series as a whole. I expect most folks who frequent New Seddleton are all caught up, but Sam was pretty big on making sure we make sure new fans are aware of possible spoilers during the most recent Q&A session. Consider yourselves warned.

Weezie paced anxiously on the porch of her family's ancestral home, trying her best to master the worry and frustration that had been her constant companions for the past few days. The inaction felt like it was slowly driving her crazy, and it was all she could do not to grab her bow and rush off in the direction of the city center. However, she was among the many rabbits who had been ordered to fall back to this area as the Terralain army approached, and they were under express orders to remain there. Only if a messenger arrived from the palace, or if they spotted any predators approaching, were they to leave the farm.

However, they had been there for days now, with no word from the palace or sight of any predators or enemy rabbits. It seemed clear that the enemy had been defeated, or at least repulsed, for there had been no noise of battle after the one terrible day. However, a flood unleashed by the apparent breach of First Warren's dam had also raised the level of the Goforth River and caused it to split, cutting them off from the city proper. Only earlier today had the levels receded, according to a scout sent by Captain Moonlight, but still no word had come from the palace.

Airen emerged from the house, an anxious frown on her own face. She had given up trying to get Weezie to settle down, knowing that her daughter needed the outlet for her nervous energy. Both of them were as anxious about the outcome of the attacks on the city as any other rabbit in the temporary camp. Of course, if anything they felt like they had more reason, for their thoughts were with the bucks dearest to them in all the world.

Just as Weezie was turning to begin another crossing of the porch, Airen gasped, and Weezie turned to follow her gaze. There, coming along the same path that her Uncle Helmer and Picket had walked on the day they had first met, was a small party of rabbits. Two of them walked slightly ahead of the others, and Weezie's heart leapt for a moment. However, she soon realized that they were not the bucks she and her mother most wanted to see.

The younger of the two was about Picket's age, but somewhat taller and with brown fur. His long-legged gait was also steady, lacking the pronounced limp Picket had borne ever since the Battle for First Warren. Weezie recognized him as Picket's friend Jo, though it was a bit strange to see him without a bow and quiver of arrows on his back. The other rabbit was of similar stature to Uncle Helmer, but gray-furred and with a somewhat dashing air about him that contrasted starkly with Helmer's characteristic sternness.

Spotting Airen and Weezie on the porch, the older buck signaled to the rest of his party, who moved off in the direction where Captain Moonlight and the other visitors were gathered. He and the younger buck continued on toward the farmhouse. Weezie turned to her mother and saw Airen's expression change from puzzlement to surprise. A slow, fond smile spread across the older doe's lips, and she stepped down from the porch to meet the two bucks, with Weezie following after her uncertainly.

"Wilfred Longtreader, is that really you?"

The older buck smiled warmly. "Indeed it is, and happy to know that I'm still recognizable after all these years. It's good to see you, Airen, and it's been far too long. My condolences, as well; I heard about Snoden and your daughter Layra."

"A gentlebuck as ever, I see," Airen said, smiling sadly. "I appreciate the kindness and hope you will not object to me returning it. I recall what happened to your own family in the afterterrors. However, you are not here to discuss old griefs, but more recent affairs. What news of the war?"

"It...it is over, Airen. And its end has brought changes we scarcely could have hoped for. The Terralains turned to our side instead of attacking the city, and helped us to battle against the wolf and raptor hordes. Our foes have all been slain; young Jo here was responsible for killing two of the Six."

Jo smiled sheepishly at the astonishment on Airen and Weezie's faces. "I had some help. At any rate, my so-called heroics wouldn't have accomplished much had it not been for something far more miraculous. A fleet of ships came down the River Flint from Akolan, and they brought with them Prince Smalls, wielding the starsword, and Heather-"

"Heather's alive?!" Weezie was stunned at this news, which seemed even more incredible than the mention of the fabled sword of Flint Firstking.

"She is indeed," Wilfred said, smiling fondly. "She saved Smalls' life, and he saved hers, and together they saved us from an even greater danger. Others can tell that tale better than I. What is most important is that the Akolan forces were able to help ours destroy the enemy. Smalls, the prince, faced Morbin himself in battle and slew him with the starsword."

"And Flint's blade...," Jo said, his tone reverent. "It...it broke."

His words brought silence, as all four of them considered the ancient prophecy concerning the starsword. If the words of Fay's lost book had been remembered rightly, then the victory of the prince over the black hawk was indeed miraculous. Impossible as it had seemed, the Mending had come, not only for the Great Wood and all of Natalia, but for the world. Even Wilfred and Jo, who had been aware of these developments for days now, felt a great sense of reverence.

"We would have sent word earlier, but the flood made things too dangerous," he said. "For that matter, there was-and is-much work to be done in the aftermath of the battle. A great deal of damage was done to the city, and we're still taking stock of the dead and wounded. There's also the matter of trying to help the new arrivals from Akolan."

"Of course; that all makes sense," Weezie said, feeling her worries of the past days ease. "I expect that the end of the war is really the beginning of a lot more work. Uncle Helmer and Picket must be hard at work helping the prince. I expect that's why they sent you two to tell us, right?"

The silence that followed Weezie's words was different from the one that had preceded it. That one had been made of holy awe and wonder; this one felt tense. As Weezie looked at Jo and Wilfred's faces, she could see uncertainty there. It was clear that her question had left them at a loss, and now they were struggling to find an answer for it.

It struck Weezie, then, how Wilfred and Jo had come to see her and her mother separately, instead of telling them the news with Captain Moonlight and the others. As she thought of their guests, she heard cheers rising from the camp, a clear sign that the joyous news had been shared. With a sinking heart, Weezie realized that the only reason Wilfred and Jo would have spoken to them apart was because there were other tidings to be shared. These tidings must not be pleasant; worse, they must apply particularly to Airen and Weezie.

Airen's face filled with a deep sorrow as she looked into Wilfred's eyes. Though Weezie had not known it, the two of them had known each other long ago. That old acquaintance, and Airen's own painful history, allowed her to see in his eyes the truth he could not bring himself to tell her. "Helmer is dead, isn't he?"

"...yes, Airen. He gave his life for the cause and crown, and to save the lives of many young soldiers. He set off a blastpowder explosion that blew open the dam, unleashing the flood. It killed many of Morbin's wolves, and many raptors-including two of the Six-were caught in the explosion. Had it not been for him, the city would have been lost before Prince Smalls and the fleet from Akolan even arrived in First Warren."

Tears streamed from Airen's eyes, which closed as she bowed her head in acknowledgement. "I spent so many years thinking he was dead...and then he came home again. I dared to hope that it would be to stay this time. I should have known better..."

Grief overcame her then, and she began to sob quietly. Numb with her own shock, Weezie thought distantly that she should go to her. However, before she could move, Wilfred had stepped forward and put his arms gently around her grieving mother. In spite of her sorrow, Weezie felt warmed by the display of compassion, and found it easy to believe that this buck was Picket's uncle.

The thought of Picket sent a wave of fresh grief through her heart, for she knew how Helmer's death must have wounded him. Then the sorrow seemed to turn to ice, as another dreadful possibility sprang to her mind. Dreading what she must ask but knowing that she had to know one way or the other, she turned to face Jo. He was looking at Airen and Wilfred, but soon felt her eyes upon him and turned to look her in the face. Seeing the pain in his expression, she was forced to swallow a lump in her throat before speaking.

"And...and Pick...?"

Jo took a deep breath before walking forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's alive, Weezie, but he's in bad shape. He helped the prince in his battle with Morbin, but he got the worst of it. We're amazed that he survived, but he hasn't woken up-"

"Take me to him, Jo. Please."

Jo hesitated, but seeing the determined look in Weezie's eyes, he nodded. The two of them turned to see Airen locking the front door of the house and sliding the key into her dress pocket. She nodded at her daughter, an unspoken message. Then she and Wilfred followed along as Weezie raced towards the palace, running so fast that even Jo's long-legged stride was hard-pressed to keep up with her.

The sight of the devastated city of First Warren was jarring to Weezie, but she couldn't bear to stop and see how it had been changed by the devastation of the battle. She caught glimpses of rabbits, many of them dressed in rough, unfamiliar attire, at work repairing damage or clearing away debris. Every so often she spotted a familiar face or two, but most were too engaged in their work to notice her. She was grateful for this in a way, as she felt like she couldn't slow down to exchange pleasantries-not with Picket as bad as Jo said.

Reaching the palace steps, Weezie slowed down, allowing a huffing Jo to catch up to her. Weezie remembered walking up these same steps with Picket barely more than a week ago, and her heart clenched at the thought of ascending them without him. However, she was determined, and Jo stayed with her as they walked in. She was grateful for his company, not least because the few rabbits who looked as though they might have challenged her presence recognized her escort as one of the heroes of the Cause and kept their objections to themselves.

At last they arrived in a quiet hallway where, Jo explained, various patients who needed as little disturbance as could be managed were being cared for. He led her to a room at the end of the hall, opened the door, and gestured her inside. With a nod, Weezie walked in, noticing a table where a white-furred doe seemed to be working with various supplies. Her eyes sought out the only bed in the room...and she clamped both hands over her mouth to keep from screaming.

Picket lay propped up in the bed, with a blanket that was pulled down so that only his legs were covered. His bare chest was swathed in bandages, as was his head. Several were also wound around his left arm, while his right arm was...gone. Just gone.

Tears came to Weezie's eyes as she remembered dancing with Picket at the Citadel of Dreams...helping him up the stairs of the Seventh Standing Stone...walking with him to the palace. Then she thought back to the stories her mother had told, before Layra had been taken, about her brother Helmer and the King's Arm. A sob wracked her body as she recalled their motto: My arm for the cause and crown. My all for the cause and crown.

Uncle Helmer had, in the end, given his all. And Picket, it seemed, had given his arm.

"Jo...who is this?"

Dimly, Weezie recalled the white doe she had seen across the room, before the sight of Picket had driven every other thought from her mind. Tearing her eyes away from the sight of her dearest friend, his broken body seemingly held together with linen, she turned to look at the room's other occupant. The other doe looked back at her, her expression of disapproving curiosity changing as she saw the obvious distress in Weezie's face. Instinctively, she walked over and took Weezie's hands in hers, though she seemed at a loss as to what to do next.

"Heather, this is Louise, known to her friends as Weezie. She's Helmer's niece, and...a close friend of Picket's. Weezie, this is Heather Longtreader, Picket's sister and one of his doctors. Oh, and she's also probably the most famous doe in Natalia at the moment."

The white doe ignored Jo's attempt at a joke, her eyes widening as she regarded Weezie. Weezie's own eyes opened just as wide as she took in the sister Picket had spoken of so often. It was hard to say which of the two was more flummoxed: Heather by a doe she hadn't even known existed but who was obviously close to her brother, or Weezie by the doe she had heard so much about but believed was dead less than an hour before. Finally, Heather seemed to regain her sense of professionalism, and gave Weezie a sympathetic look.

"Pleased to meet you, Weezie. I'm very sorry about your uncle. He and I weren't particularly close, but he did so much for Picket. I know he died bravely for the cause, but I'm sure his loss must be painful."

"Thank you, Heather; I'm still coming to terms with it. I only knew my uncle for a short time. I lost my father and my twin sister before him, of course, so it's not exactly my first experience losing family. But please...how is Pick?"

Heather blinked, obviously somewhat unnerved by hearing an unfamiliar doe speaking about her brother with such obvious tenderness and concern. Somehow, it was harder for her to process than any of Picket's feats at Jupiter's Crossing, the Battle of Rockback Valley, or even the final battle. She had borne witness to the heroic and horrific confrontation between her brother and Morbin, and been the first to address his injuries. However, it seemed her brother had done even more in their few weeks apart from each other than she could have imagined.

"Well, Weezie, he's...stable, at least for now. He suffered numerous injuries during the final battle, even before he dared to attack Morbin. He also fell from the top of the Standing Stones into the floodwaters in the city below, and I barely managed to save him from drowning. Emma...Princess Emma and I have been doing what we can for him, but all we can really do at this point is wait."

Nodding, Weezie pulled her hands away from Heather's and turned to look at Picket again. She longed to put her arms around the comatose buck but held herself back. Her pragmatic mind recognized that such a gesture would do nothing to help Picket and might even aggravate his injuries. Weezie's heart, however, was gripped by a protective instinct, one that looked at Picket and saw a fragile thing that might shatter if she touched him.

Weezie wrapped her arms about herself instead, as though warding off a chill, and moving to stand by Picket's bedside. Heather, still feeling somewhat awkward around her new acquaintance, moved back to the table where she had been preparing materials for Picket's ongoing treatments. Jo, feeling like an intruder, quietly stepped out into the hallway. It wasn't long, however, before Weezie and Heather heard him speaking to someone, and both turned towards the door as Wilfred and Airen walked in.

Airen's reaction to her first sight of Picket wasn't quite as violent as Weezie's had been, but she was visibly distressed by his bound and injured body as well. Fighting back tears, she came to stand beside Weezie and put her arms around her daughter. Weezie leaned into her, grateful that Airen had shaken off the crippling numbness she had succumbed to after Layra's death. However, the thought of Helmer and Picket's role in her mother's recovery brought on a fresh wave of grief, and she began to weep for the uncle she had lost and the friend who seemed on the verge of joining him.

Quietly, Wilfred introduced Airen to Heather, and the two exchanged brief comments about Picket's condition and his stay at Airen's home prior to the final days of the war. Weezie barely heard them, and only moved from her mother's embrace when Jo reentered the room with chairs for the two visiting does. He returned to the hallway after that, while Wilfred joined Airen and Weezie at the bedside, a silent but supportive presence. The three of them stayed there until Emma arrived to help Heather change Picket's bandages. Unable to bear the thought of seeing Picket's still fresh wounds, Airen and Weezie left, with Wilfred and Jo escorting them home.

The weeks that followed were among the strangest that Weezie had lived through. She and Airen were soon caught up in the labor of rebuilding, and Weezie found herself once again serving under Captain Moonlight. Though some personnel from the various secret citadels had departed the city, First Warren was still crowded with rabbits from around Natalia. One could walk down a city street and spot freed slaves from Akolan laboring alongside hulking bucks from Terralain, mingling with rabbits from everywhere between Cloud Mountain and Kingston.

Helmer had been far from the only rabbit to give or lose his life in the final battle, and Weezie mourned these lost friends even as she gave thanks for those who had, impossibly as it seemed, survived the fighting. Jo, along with Cole and Heyna Blackstar, always had a kind word for her, though they were kept busy by their duties to Smalls, Emma, and other leaders. She also met Picket's parents, Whittle and Sween Longtreader, and his younger brother Jacks. All three were kindness itself to her and introduced her to other friends and acquaintances.

Feelings in the city were a strange mixture, to say the least. Even living through the final battle had seemed an impossibility for many. To think that they were not only alive, but that the Mending had come, was overwhelming. Old friends were reunited, new friends were made, and wounds of many kinds were attended to.

However, for Weezie, behind and above everything lurked the shadow of Picket's condition. Whenever possible she went to visit him, often finding one of his friends or some of his family already at his bedside. Other times, she would take up her place beside him and eventually be joined by someone else, usually Sween and Jacks. They would sit quietly, and sometimes they would share stories of Picket's childhood in Nick Hollow. If it was Jo or one of the Blackstars, they might recount their experiences with Picket at Halfwind.

But throughout it all, Picket never stirred, never woke.

If she was alone, Weezie would take Picket's hand, suppressing a shudder at the thought that he now only had one for her to hold. She would talk to him, telling him about her days, the farm, and the state of the city. Sometimes, she talked about Helmer, and how she was sure that he would be proud of Picket. But as days and days went by with no indication that he could hear her, more and more of her time at his bedside was spent in silence.

"Weezie, lass...is something wrong?"

Caught up in the numbing routine of cleaning up a temporary mess hall after a busy supper hour, Weezie was startled by the question. Bleary-eyed, she looked up from her task of gathering dishes to see Captain Moonlight staring at her with his one remaining eye. The dark red rabbit leaned heavily on his cane, another permanent reminder of his final battle with the villainous Daggler. Cap had been her superior ever since he'd recovered enough from his injuries to be up and about and had been a great comfort during the days of waiting before the flood receded.

"Just...just tired, I guess, Cap. You know...how it is..."

"I should think so, with all you've been doing. Don't think I haven't noticed you getting here early and leaving late, and scarcely stopping to breath the whole time you're here. Dedication is one thing, Weezie, but obsession is another. I happen to know that you're also trying to knock the farm back into shape when you're not here."

Irritated at his commentary, but not feeling like she had the strength to argue, Weezie continued loading mugs, plates, and cutlery onto a tray. She set the tray on a cart and picked up another before heading for the next set of tables. Moving with surprising agility on his cane, Moonlight planted himself firmly in her path, obviously not done with their conversation. Weezie glared at him, though her eyes lost focus for a second and she had to blink to clear them.

"Last time I checked, how I choose to spend my time is my own business, Cap."

"Maybe so, but when any buck or doe under my supervision is running themselves ragged I make it my business. Don't try to put me off, Weezie; I'm not so busy that I can't see what's going on. Even if I were, Blind Watson could tell you're not sleeping well, if at all. I also couldn't help but notice that some of the staff meals go practically untouched.

"Weezie, I know there's a lot to be done, but you need to take care of yourself. I promised Pick that I'd-"

"Don't talk to me about Pick, Cap!" Furiously, Weezie moved around him and began piling dishes on her new tray, hardly caring for how haphazardly she stacked them. Even the mention of her beloved buck brought hot tears to her eyes, impairing vision that was already unfocused from fatigue. However, before she could pick up the tray, Cap pulled her around to face him with deep concern plain on his face.

"He's the reason you're acting this way, isn't he? You're so worried about him that you're forcing yourself to keep moving and not taking the time to take care of yourself. Weezie, that's not going to help either of you, or your mother for that matter. Do you really think Picket fought so hard for the Mending only to have you put yourself in the grave when it's just begun?"

"And what about him, Cap?! What kind of Mending will it be if he dies? I've lost my father, my sister, and my uncle-how can I go on without Picket too!?" Weezie jerked herself out of Cap's grip, but the suddenness of the movement brought on a wave of dizziness. She staggered, and Cap barely managed to grab her and lower her to a chair.

Moonlight put a hand to Weezie's brow, his expression turning to one of alarm. "Weezie, you're burning up! Ray-call for a doctor!"

Weezie would have protested, but the dizziness persisted-indeed, it got worse. The long days of working and worrying without enough food or rest had caught up with her. Coupled with the overwhelming feelings she had been trying to bottle up, unleashed by Cap's attempted intervention, Weezie found she had reached the breaking point. It was almost a relief when her overtaxed senses went dark, plunging her into welcome oblivion.

Black emptiness gave way to a warm night on a familiar path. Weezie wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she felt different. She felt strangely light, free from the mounting fear, hunger, and weariness she had tried to bury under busy apathy. Her walk to the farm was as familiar as ever, the rhythm of her footsteps as familiar as a beloved song.

As she approached the farmhouse, Weezie noted with some curiosity that it appeared different. It was well maintained, and the yard and fields she could see had been tended with loving care by many hands. Gone was the drab, shabby building with its overgrown surroundings that she had become so familiar with in the past few years. It was as though she had gone back in time...

Then she saw him.

Sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, whittling away at a long stick, was a white-furred rabbit. He wasn't as imposing as her Uncle Helmer or Picket's Uncle Wilfred, nor did he have the look of a soldier. This rabbit was of a slighter build, and his muscles were toughened from farm and house chores, not wielding a sword. But for all that, Weezie had never forgotten how safe he had always made her feel.

"Father!"

Lifting his eyes from the stick, her father Snoden smiled broadly. He set aside both knife and stick and rose to his feet as Weezie rushed to him. She felt tears flowing as his strong arms wrapped around her, and just let him hold her for a long moment. Finally, he pushed her back a bit so he could look into her face.

"My dear Weezie...how you've grown."

"Father...I've missed you so much!"

There was the noise of a door opening, followed by another voice. "And what am I-chopped turnip?"

Weezie's head jerked towards the sounds, and she found herself looking into a face so similar to her own it felt like looking in a mirror. With a cry, she rushed on the other doe, pulling her into an even tighter hug than she had given her father. Her sister returned the embrace, then playfully broke free. "It's been a while, Weezie!"

"Yes it has...Lazy!"

Snoden chuckled at his daughters' exchange of nicknames, before coming around to stand beside Layra as she faced Weezie. Weezie felt such happiness, looking at the two of them. However, the feeling dimmed as the past came back to her, bringing with it familiar grief. Then, as she saw her father and sister's happy expressions tinged with their own sadness, her heart lurched at a startling thought.

"Am...am I dead?"

Reaching out, her father laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though his expression remained sad. "No, Weezie dear, though it wasn't exactly for lack of trying. You were filled with fear and sadness, and you tried to bury it inside yourself. When it kept you from sleeping, you stopped trying to sleep, and when it made you feel sick you refused to eat.

"I know it's hard, my dear. You lost me and your sister, and you saw what that did to your mother. So you decided to stop hoping, because you thought it would be better not to hope than to have those hopes dashed. Then your Picket came into your life, and he taught you how to hope again."

Weezie bowed her head, and tears of a different sort streamed down her face. "It is what it is..."

"...but it's not what it shall be," Layra replied, pulling her sister into a gentler embrace. Snoden put his arms around both of them. The three stood together for a long moment, taking silent comfort in one another's presence. Being with her father and sister again eased Weezie's heart, and she felt her pain-old and new-receding.

At long last, Weezie felt able to look up into the faces of her lost loved ones. Seeing them...speaking with them...feeling their love...she hadn't dared to think she might ever have such an experience again. It was the sort of thing Picket had helped her to believe might be possible, and the thought of him brought a terrible tightness in her chest. Struggling, she forced herself to ask the question that, whether this was a dream or not, she felt she must ask.

"Is Picket...going to die?"

Layra and Snoden smiled, not as sadly this time, but said nothing in response. Weezie waited a long moment, wondering if she would be able to bear the answer. Then she realized that, though they were looking in her direction, their eyes were actually focused past her. Before she could ask what they were looking at, a gruff voice responded.

"Of course he's not going to die, Weezie. If Picket has proved anything, it's that he's incredibly difficult to kill. And believe me, I know difficult to kill."

Whirling, Weezie found herself looking at a tall black buck who was both familiar and unfamiliar. His voice wasn't as grating as it had been when last she heard it, and his fur wasn't flecked with gray spots denoting advancing age. The rabbit who stood before her looked like he was somewhere between the one she had known for such a short time, and the one her mother had described leaving home so many years ago. However, as she stood gawking at him, the amused smirk on his face was instantly recognizable.

"Uncle Helmer!"

Just as he had the day they had first met, Helmer walked forward and folded her in a hug. Weezie had thought she had run out of tears, but it seemed that the embrace of a youthful, happy Helmer was enough to set her off again. Finally, as she wiped her eyes, Helmer let her go and moved to stand with her father and sister. All three of them looked at Weezie with fondness, and somehow she knew their time together was about to end.

"It's time for you to go back, Weezie," Layra said, smiling. "I know it'll be hard to go on without us, but I also know that you're strong. Besides, this time it will be different. Now, you can go forward knowing that happiness awaits you."

Snoden nodded in agreement. "You will be all right, and so will your mother. Airen has someone who will take care of her, until we can be together again. I am not the only buck who can bring happiness to her life, just as Picket isn't the only buck who can bring happiness to yours."

"That being said," Helmer said wryly, "that ladybug loves you as much as you love him. He needs a firm hand, and since I can't be around to provide it, I'm relying on you."

Despite the prospect of being separated from the three of them again, Weezie couldn't help but laugh. Though soft, it was a release in much the same way her earlier tears had been. Joining in, her uncle, sister, and father wrapped her in one last hug. Held securely in their arms, Weezie felt herself slipping away again...

When Weezie opened her eyes this time, she found herself lying in her own bed, the familiar ceiling of her room in the farmhouse above her. Her fever, dizziness, and tiredness had gone, but she felt drained. Moving gingerly, she turned to the side of her bed to see her mother, sitting in a chair and watching her with relief spreading across her face. Standing beside her, a comforting hand on her shoulder, stood Picket's Uncle Wilfred.

"So you've come back to us, Weezie my dear," Airen said, smiling even as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. "For a time I feared you were going to join your father and sister. Though I could not have begrudged you the reunion, I am glad it is not so. If nothing else, what would I have said to Picket when he wakes, as I pray he will?"

"I'm...sorry, Mother," Weezie said, her voice a hoarse rasp. Airen quickly went to the bedside table and brought a cup of water to Weezie's lips. Weezie drank gratefully, and let her mother and Wilfred help her into a sitting position. Supported by pillows, she let Airen feed her some soup, and felt both it and the water adding further strength to that which she had gained from her enforced rest.

"How long...was I out?"

Wilfred, after checking her eyes and feeling her forehead, gave her a kind smile. "Almost a week. Captain Moonlight had you brought here as soon as Doctor Hendow told him you could be cared for at home. Your mother has hardly left your side, though fortunately I was able to convince her that it wouldn't do either of you any good if she took sick as well."

Airen gave Wilfred a smirk, eerily similar to her late brother's, that Weezie recognized as an expression of great affection. She was surprised; she'd known her mother and Wilfred were old acquaintances, but their familiarity must have run deeper than she'd expected. Certainly, she doubted her mother would have taken counsel or help from any buck she didn't know and trust. Before she could ponder the situation more, there was a knock at the door.

Wilfred called out permission to enter, and a buck several years younger than Weezie made his way into the room. He had the look of a child who, like Weezie, had spent their life in First Warren under Morbin's domination. Noticing Weezie sitting up and looking alert, he seemed suddenly shy. However, Wilfred wrapped an arm around his shoulders encouragingly before turning to address Weezie.

"Louise, allow me to introduce you to Ikker, a buck of First Warren. Like the rest of us, he has lost loved ones to the foes who are now gone, and now finds himself living in the longed-for Mended Wood. There are many young bucks and does like him, and I've gotten to know a few of them. I introduced them to Airen, and she's been kind enough-when I could convince her to leave your bedside-to teach them a bit about working the farm."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Louise," Ikker said, managing to smile in response to Wilfred's friendly tone. "Master Wilfred, Mistress Airen, a visitor has just arrived from the palace. He was one of the bucks who fought to protect the survivors of Harbone-Captain Shanks, I think?"

"Captain?" Wilfred shook his head. "Well, the lad undoubtedly deserves it. I suppose the battle has left many vacancies to be filled, and there's more than enough work to be done. Louise, would you like us to show him in, or do you feel up to walking to the common room?"

Weezie assured Wilfred that she could get up and added that he was welcome to call her by her nickname. Smiling, Wilfred nodded, though he stayed close as Airen helped Weezie out of bed and walked with her through the door. Ikker, who had gone ahead of them, moved aside as they crossed to greet Jo, who smiled to see Weezie up and about. Indeed, he seemed especially cheerful, evidently eager to share whatever tidings had brought him here.

"Captain Lo-Wilfred, sorry; I know you dislike being addressed formally. Mistress Airen, Ikker, good to see you both, and especially good to see you Weezie. Everyone's been worried about you since we received news of your falling ill. Wilfred did say he expected you to wake by today, or at the latest tomorrow, when last we spoke with him."

"Good to see you again Jo. You'll forgive me saying though, I don't think you trekked all the way out here just to check on me. Something's obviously got you excited; care to tell us?"

Jo took a deep breath, trying to adopt a manner appropriate to news that was happy but also of great significance. "Yesterday, at the palace...Picket woke up."

A cart ride to the palace later, Weezie once again found herself outside Picket's sickroom door. Though Wilfred was the only one of the Longtreaders not to have seen Picket since his awakening, he had insisted that Weezie be the first to go in. Airen had agreed, and Jo wasn't about to argue with either of them. All three gave Weezie encouraging smiles as she put a trembling hand on the door handle.

Cautiously, Weezie pushed the door open and walked inside. As before, her eyes moved to Picket's bed...and tears filled her eyes at the sight.

Picket was sitting up, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated his one remaining hand. His chest was still wrapped in bandages, but they no longer obscured his face. A pair of scars ran across the left side of his face, one showing where Morbin's talons had just missed his eye. The idea made Weezie shudder, even as she gave silent thanks that Picket's injuries hadn't been worse.

Brought out of his reverie by her movement, Picket turned his gaze towards her. Weezie felt her heart flutter as his visage, still handsome in spite of the scars, turned fully towards her. His smile, which made his eyes sparkle brightly, conveyed so many feelings as he looked at her. Relief...joy...and an affection so intense it left her speechless, even as she recognized that her own feelings towards him were just as strong.

She wasn't aware of moving to the bedside; suddenly she was just there. Picket's hand came to rest against her cheek, and she took it in both of hers and held it there. It was a long moment before either of them did anything else, content simply to let their gazes meet. Then, Picket's happy expression changed, as he seemed to finally move past the pure happiness of seeing Weezie.

"You look...thin," he said, his raspy voice reminding her of her own from earlier in the day. "I mean...thinner...like you've been unwell. Did something happen?"

The obvious concern and tenderness in his voice warmed her, even as she felt a twinge of guilt. "I...lost myself for a bit, Pick. While you were out...the thought that I might lose you...I couldn't bear it. I tried to block it out...distract myself with work, but...I guess I got carried away."

"Oh Weezie..."

"It's not your fault, Pick...and I'm okay now," she said, her smile returning. "Quite a bit better than okay, in fact, seeing you awake again. I only wish I could have been here yesterday when you first woke up. You have a few more visitors eager to renew their acquaintance, as it happens-your Uncle Wilfred, my mother, and your friend Jo, who was kind enough to bring us the news that you were back with us."

"Good old Jo," Picket said. "I know I've given him a hard time, but I couldn't have asked for a better friend. I'll have to think of a way to thank him for checking in on you while I was...indisposed. It's the sort of thing a brother would do."

"We'll have to think of a way," Weezie replied; then, feeling bold in a way that only Picket could make her feel bold, she went on. "He has been a great friend, to both of us. He'll make a great uncle someday too. The sort of buck we might...name a son after."

Knowing what she knew of Picket's experiences and exploits, she wouldn't have thought it was possible for anything to startle him anymore. But it seemed he could still be surprised, judging by the stare he gave her. Slowly, however, his expression changed into a smile that still seemed half disbelieving. "Weezie...are you saying...?

"That I'd like to marry you, Picket Longtreader?" Weezie met his gaze with her own, though she felt her face growing warm. "If you couldn't have already guessed that, then perhaps your brain is still waking up. At any rate, you clearly need minding; look what happened after one day where I wasn't around to look after you!"

Picket was well-acquainted with the way Weezie's family showed affection, after more than a year of training with Helmer and the time he had spent with her and Airen. As such, her words only made him laugh softly, but with a happiness that went beyond simple amusement. Reaching out, he took her right hand in his left and brought to his mouth. Kissing it gently, he looked up at her, his eyes shining once again.

"Louise, daughter of Airen and Snoden, I can think of no greater honor than to be your husband, and to have you be my wife. I often doubted I would live to see this Mending; having done so, I know of no one with whom I would rather share it with than you. But before we start making plans and arrange for the services of a votary, perhaps we should invite Airen, Wilfred, and Jo in? I think Jo will appreciate our honor more if we don't force him to spend all day in the hall."

The Beginning

I had intended to include another scene or two in this installment, but it was already pretty lengthy. I suppose I shall just have to write a follow up/companion chapter from Picket's perspective, though originally I had only meant to focus on supporting characters. I suppose that, as her Uncle Helmer was so fond of doing, my story of Weeize and Picket has taken me by surprise.