The evening sky was washed in gold and orange. Below, First Warren was a wreck of shattered buildings and the ravages of war. But it was alive. Medics buzzed in and out of crammed hospitals like helpful flies. The wounded were still many, yet decreasing with the aid of True Blue. Shouts echoed above the din of reconstruction and deconstruction as rabbits in wraps and bandages moved fallen wood out of streets, repairing and rebuilding leveled houses and buildings. Mothers tended to younglings, keeping them out of the way. Able does and bucks helped distribute food to the hungry.

And Picket was running. His heart was drumming in his chest, one desire pushing him forward. He had successfully escaped from the hospital… well, Emma had allowed him to go on a short walk outside the hospital... He cringed sheepishly and forced his mind ahead. He had a subconscious desire to obey her - he had a duty to obey her, but right now, right now only, it was null. Nothing could stop him from his mission. He smiled smugly.

All of a sudden Picket tripped and lurched forward onto his left arm, then knees. Snapping his head up, he realized a little buck was underneath him and a ring of young bucks were thronged around him. A ball was bouncing down the street away from them. Gasping, he managed to scramble to his feet.

“Oh, uh, sorry, little guy,” he said, smiling and holding out his hand.

The buck’s face broke into a shy, wide-eyed smile. He reached for Picket’s hand and Picket pulled him to his feet. “Sir? Lord Picket?”

“Sir Lord Picket, at your service,” Picket said, bowing. “What’s your name?”

The buck shrunk and glanced sideways. “I’m Gateson. Don’t tell Mother we got into your way, sir. You’re a legend, you know, and if she knew...” he trailed off and gave Picket a pleading yet confident look.

His voice was so tiny and the implicit trust so young and innocent that a lump choked Picket’s throat. He coughed it away and blinked and smiled again. “Don’t worry, son. I won’t tell. And just call me Picket.” He nodded toward the ball. “What were you playing, bucks?”

“Rallyball,” one piped up. Before Picket could reply another buck interrupted.

“What happened to your arm, Lord, I mean, Picket?”

Gateson’s eyes widened again. “That’s rude! ’Sides, you already know.”

Picket chuckled, then sighed and looked down at his right arm. It was just a stump now, his sleeve hanging limp around it. Somehow he hadn’t felt the emotional pain he’d expected to feel when he lost it. Oppositely, it made him feel whole - complete, as if his life’s purpose had been fulfilled. Losing it, he found a special and inexplicable closeness to his master.

He looked up. “I gave my arm for the cause, but my master gave his all.”

He laid a hand on the little buck’s shoulder, ran ahead and scooped the ball, then tossed it over. Gateson caught it, then Picket continued his brisk walk down the street, reminding himself to focus more sharply on his path. A wave of grief came gushing over his heart as he remembered Helmer. He had been forced to build a dam around his sorrow during the battle, forced himself to ignore the deep and painful loss until after he had done his duty. But now that it was all over, he felt as if he had lost all his limbs.

Picket tried to shake off the feeling and set his mind to the mission. He knew where he would find her. Emma’s eyes had suddenly begun dancing with a mischievous humor when he had asked her where Weezie could be found. He flushed and hoped she hadn’t guessed anything… unordinary. Of course she had.

He ran past several houses and slowed into a jog. In a few moments he saw the farmhouse. His breath caught. The ruins were outlined in the rich, ruddy light of the swiftly setting sun. The roof had caved in. The left porch pillar was destroyed. Picket’s gaze strayed from the house to a doe who was leaning on a nearby fence, her back to him.

Picket inhaled. He softly walked over the grass, smoothing down his fur and glancing down at his right side. He fumbled with the creases on his tunic, then gave up and slowed to stand several feet behind Weezie.

Her ears perked up. She froze a second, then swiveled to face him. She gasped. “Oh, Picket!”

Picket couldn’t suppress the grin that burst onto his face. He took one step forward, and Weezie ran to him, collapsing in a hug on his neck. He buried his head on her shoulder as she squeezed him tightly.

“Why do you always go and get into trouble without me?” came in muffled tones from Weezie.

He laughed and breathed in the scent of wood and earth that clung to her clothes. He wanted to tell her that she was the one who he had thought of when he had gone under, hers was the face that had flashed into his mind just before he had fallen unconscious. But no more words were spoken, and in a moment they broke apart. Weezie stepped back and brushed down her dress. Ash and dirt fell to the ground.

“You’ve been working,” Picket said admiringly.

Weezie frowned and smirked simultaneously. “It’s all everybody but the wounded has been doing, General Sunshine.” She nodded toward a wheelbarrow full of wood planks close to the road. “It’s my duty.”

“What are those for?” Picket asked.

“I’ve been taking wood from the farmhouse that could be used elsewhere.”

Picket raised his eyebrows. He looked into Weezie’s eyes.

Weezie stared back. “The farmhouse will be rebuilt when there are no more pressing needs.” Then she softened. “It’s okay, Pick. Besides, it’s practically uninhabitable right now. And I don’t think I'll be… well, anyway, I don’t need it right now. ”

Picket didn’t take his eyes off her as he walked to the fence and leaned against it. Weezie followed him and crossed her arms on the fence post, looking out over the gold-flushed field, a light, fresh breeze sifting through the grass. Picket watched as the sunlight touched the curves of Weezie’s face and glowed like a candle in her eyes.

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Then Weezie shifted and glanced at Picket. “So, how are you feeling?”

“I feel good - not exactly new, but better.” Picket shook his head, reminiscing. “When I finally woke up I felt as if I had awakened from a restful night. And don’t get me started on my shock at realizing I was still in Natalia. I saw Heather’s face… Smalls… Father and Mother...” his eyes glazed with a far away look. He turned to Weezie and smiled. “You were missing. I supposed you just didn’t care whether I’d have ever awakened or not.”

Weezie straightened, fire blazing in her eyes. Picket settled back on the fence post, reveling in it. “Picket Longtreader, how dare you? That’s not even funny! I was volunteering at the hospital when you woke up and I’ll have you know I watched you when your sister and mother were busy and there were no nurses-”

“I get it, I get it.” Picket held up his hand, laughing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just wanted to see you get angry.”

He smirked, staring into her eyes. Weezie’s mouth tilted in a side smile, and she looked away. “Well, you got your wish. Can I get mine?”

Picket’s heart started beating faster. “Yes?”

“I want to know how you’re feeling with… I mean, how… how are you doing with Uncle Helmer?” Weezie shot him a sideways glance then fumbled with a splinter on the fence.

Picket’s heart slowed to its normal pace. He sighed and screwed his eyes. Out of the blue, he felt like weeping, weeping for days until it brought Helmer back. His master back. You really had to get my weak spot, Weezie. “Ummm...” He swallowed, then risked a peek at Weezie. “I miss him.” He nodded and looked at the sunset, hoping he hadn’t sounded brusque, and knowing he had. He swiped away tears stinging his eyes.

There was silence for a moment, then Picket felt Weezie lay her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

He turned to her and their eyes locked, Picket’s heartbeat rising again. There was more than sympathy in her eyes. There was something else, something deeper.

“Weezie.” Picket wanted to say more, but couldn’t. It was a question and a statement, a humble plea and an unforgiving declaration all at once.

“Picket,” Weezie whispered back in a tight voice. She let go of his shoulder, but Picket caught her hand as it fell to her side.

Just then the sun dipped below the horizon. Picket watched the remaining golden light touch Weezie’s fur like a warm embrace. He prepared to ask the monumental words that would seal his fate forever. He cleared his throat and touched her cheek. “Weezie, will you marry me?”

He held his breath as Weezie closed her eyes, even though he knew the answer. Then Weezie opened her eyes - overflowing with tears, and gazed at him.

It was enough for Picket. He clasped his one arm around her in a hug, his pure joy overwhelming the awkwardness. Weezie hugged him back like it was her last and only chance at it, letting out something between a sob and a laugh. Picket heard her whisper the words he had secretly been longing to hear since the day she had almost killed him.

“I love you.”

Weezie laughed again and hid her face in his shoulder. Picket grinned through his tears. He hated crying around people, and least of all Weezie - it always made him feel weak and immature, but right now he didn’t care. He didn’t need to care. Weezie knew and understood him like she was the other half of his heart. He took in a ragged breath and swallowed down a sob, squeezing Weezie just a bit harder. His heart felt like it would explode with all the emotions that whirled inside it, with all the love and relief and wistfulness and joy.

Weezie nestled her head in his shoulder a moment longer then pulled away. She looked up at Picket, grinning. There were damp streaks in the fur on her cheeks. “We would have stayed like this all night long if I hadn’t done something,” she said, hearing Picket’s regretful sigh.

Picket smiled back. “I wish we could stay like this all night, Weezie,” he said.

Weezie took his hand and dragged him along to the farmhouse steps. Sitting down with Picket, she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Me too. But better to do it sitting down than standing up, which I’ve been doing most of the day.”

Picket laughed, then patted her back. “Oh Weezie, I’m sorry - I forgot you’ve been working all day.”

“It was worth it - to end it like this.” Weezie let out a full, happy sigh.

Picket stared ahead in the darkening world, the air thick with the buzz of insects and clear with the light breeze. The porch steps creaked beneath him as he shifted and relaxed against the step above him. He had always wondered what the beginning of the Mending would feel like. And he was living it now. He could take a breath, and exhale, knowing that everything would be okay. He could rest in his bed at night, at peace. No more urges for vengeance, no more betrayal. The flame had been carried. The seed of the New World had been planted. The fire was over, and healing was on the horizon, and in his heart too. It felt so right.

A minute later Weezie’s voice cut through the magic, shaking Picket out of his reflections. "When’s the wedding? And who are we inviting to it?”

Picket laughed. “Good. Still the same Weezie.”

He sensed Weezie’s smile as she continued. “Perhaps the question is who not to invite.”

Picket squinted, and shrugged in turn. “I… wouldn’t prefer a huge wedding.”

“I understand, Pick,” Weezie said. “Just remember, people love you, admire you. You’re a hero to them...” Picket strained to hear the whispered words that were almost swallowed in the twilight sounds: “...and me.”

Picket mutely took Weezie’s hand and pressed it, wishing he had fitting words to say in reply. “I love you,” he whispered after a moment. Weezie reached out and hugged him.

Suddenly the porch step collapsed under the rabbits. Picket gasped and sprang to his feet, pulling Weezie up as she belly-laughed.

“Sorry, I forgot that step has been unsteady lately!” Weezie managed to say.

Picket began to laugh, beginning to see the humor, and answering the irresistible contagiousness of Weezie’s laugh with a belly-laugh of his own. He had never heard her laugh so hard and so purely merrily. They leaned against each other, shaking with laughter and truly joyful for the first time in months. Maybe even years.

Soon Weezie calmed down and clapped a hand over Picket’s mouth. “Shh! Princess Emma or your sister Heather will hear somehow and spread the word before we get the chance to announce it ourselves,” she said, giggling.

Picket collected himself and leaned against the porch pillar. “Sorry.”

“Careful.” Weezie nodded her head toward it. And grinned. “That’s unsteady too.”

Picket moved away from it and stared up into the night sky - the endless banner of stars that sparkled like thousands of beacons of hope. “My last mission. Complete.”

Weezie looked at him quizzically. “What was it?”

Picket smiled. “To catch you.”

This is my first fan fiction ever! I hope you guys enjoyed it! (I’m not planning on any follow-up chapters.) Keep in mind that I'd LOVE any honest feedback because I'm seriously looking to grow and improve as a writer. (Do I need to underline it besides italicizing and all-caping it to get my point across lol?) Be as brutal as you're comfortable being. :) Bear the flame!