Well, here is the finale for The Beginning Of The Mending by yours truly!! I feel sad that its finished... but I have plenty more fanfics to share with you guys!!! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it... and hopefully your heart rate doesn't exceed normal like mine did when I wrote this! 😂😂😂 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter 15 Smalls inhaled the cool, crisp morning air, his whiskers twitching. The morning air smelled of dew, early spring flowers, and fresh earth. It was refreshing, and a welcoming comfort to him. He and Wilfred had lived in all sorts of places for many years, but he still was in awe of this natural beauty that he loved to see, smell, and hear. Lord Blackstar and Heyward were calculating something next to the fire when pounding feet and labored breathing interrupted the serene setting. Smalls stood poised, his hand on his sword hilt, ready for the approaching being to emerge from the forest foliage. To his surprise, Whitbie stumbled out of the brush! “Whitbie! What’s wrong?” He asked, guiding his exhausted but happy-looking brother to the fire. Lord Blackstar handed him a water skin and they watched him gulp down the beverage. Once he finished, Whit smiled, still panting. “Is something wrong?” Smalls asked, puzzled. Then his eyes widened in fear. “Is Heather alright?” Whitbie chuckled. “You don’t even ask after your own family?” He teased. When he saw Smalls glaring at him, he put up his hands in defense. “Heather is fine. I bring word from her, actually.” Smalls eyes widened. “What?” Whitbie withdrew the note from his pocket. “From the fair lady herself,” he said dramatically, handing his brother the note. Smalls opened the note quickly, trying to steady his shaking hands. He read its contents and looked at the paper quizzically. Reading it once more, his countenance changed to worry and fear. “I’ll be going back,” he announced, putting the note in his pocket as he began to gather his things. Lord Blackstar nodded and said nothing, even though he was confused. Confused that one prince looked ready to shout for joy, while the other looked strangely grave. In less than five minutes of receiving the message, Smalls headed back to First Warren ahead of his entourage. Heather paced the foyer, putting her hands in her pockets, then withdrawing them quickly to peer through the windows. Her insides squirmed and her heart pounded. A smile was always on her face and her eyes danced. She skipped over to Picket’s room multiple times and peaked through the doorway at her parents. They were huddled around Picket’s bed, waiting as excitedly and anxiously as Heather. Every now and then he moved slightly and plenty of groans and mutterings followed. She smiled at her parents and Jacks, then ran back to the window. “Where are you Smalls?” She whispered, squinting into the bright, sunny outdoors. There! A white rabbit dressed in travelling clothes nearly ran into the courtyard. Smalls! His expression looked anxious and his pace looked hardly controlled. Heather ran to the door and threw it open. When Smalls saw her, he ran. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I got your note. What happened? Is it Picket?” Heather smiled as tears flooded her eyes. “Come,” she managed to say, taking his hand and leading him to her brother’s room. Once they entered, Smalls stopped just inside the doorway, staring at the scene before him. Heather approached Picket’s beside and slowly sat down, watching her restless brother. Smalls remained motionless by the door, watching in wonder. Picket’s eyes finally opened. He blinked a few times, squinting against the brightness that filled his vision. He went his lips and inhaled, moving his right arm and trying to move his left. When he felt nothing, he looked and sat up, puzzled. He saw Heather. He froze. She smiled as tears rolled down her face, then his. Heather smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “Its alright, Picket. Everything is fine,” she sobbed, gripping him tightly in her arms. Picket hugged her back with his one arm, puzzled. Am I really alive? He wondered. She finally pulled back, cupping his face as tears continued to dampen her fur. She smiled and stood up… and he saw Father, Mother, and Jacks! Picket’s chin quivered and his own tears blurred his eyesight. Sween was already crying and sat next to him, holding her long lost son in her arms at last. Picket’s sobs filled the room and Mothers soothing words accompanied the sounds. As her parents surrounded Picket with hugs and loving words, Heather turned to Smalls. He still stood where he had stopped. He was smiling, and his own eyes were wet with tears. He looked up at Heather, joy, love, and relief evident in his gaze. Heather gave a soft laugh as he embraced her in his arms. Smalls held her tightly, feeling her tears on his shoulder. His own tears were spilling down the back of her dress. He looked up at the joyous reunion before him, his heart soaring. Whittle Longtreader looked up at the prince and smiled, nodding his head. Smalls could see a letter in his pocket; the letter he had given him a week before. He returned the smile as Whittle turned back to his son. Smalls knew that he would be speaking with the Longtreaders soon to ask their permission if Ms. Longtreader would become Mrs. Joveson, his bride, his wife. But that would have to wait. And he would wait. The Longtreader family has been reunited at last, and rabbitkind was free. Heather and Smalls pulled back, his hand still around her as they watched and smiled at the happy scene before them. Yes, he concluded. The Mending has come! And let it be so, in this Mended Wood. The End. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Blessings and Bear the Flame, A. R.