And the epilogue is finally out. Thank you so much to all reviewers for taking the time to drop a comment on this story; I am so very grateful that anyone bothered to read and feedback on this first foray of mine into the wilds of fanfiction.

Hope you enjoy!

Violets are blooming, it is springtime, but a persistent rain falls.

It is a grey, rather depressing state of affairs, cold and weary and heartsick. But three violets grow tall, and strong, and brave. They hold close to their hearts the memory of a gentle, radiant sun that shone for them, and the promise this golden being made that he would find them once again, and always keep and be with them. Somehow in the wild, barren rocks that litter the wayside, evidence of many a story that crashed and burned, three beautiful, beautiful flowers are budding.

A storm begins, one great and terrible. Lightning lashes at them, and hail batters their delicate, yet strong forms. They bend, but never break in the howling wind, and their leaves are uplifted in hope and faith, for even in the darkest of times they remember that which is good and great and so much brighter than any storm could be dark.

And a hand reaches from the heavens, a hand that lovingly, so lovingly, takes them and bears them up, up, to the fields of heaven that await three children when they come home.

But the hand pauses, too, over a lone, wilting violet that lies discarded by the road. The rain renews, stronger and sadder than before, as the skies cry for a lost child, even as a quiet heart rejoices that one day she will return.

The hand withdraws, and the three violets, vibrating with joy and love, are drawn to His kingdom, finally and forever.

Violets are blooming- so many violets!

Spring has come yet again, brushing each flower with an indescribably sweet touch that whispers of hope. Soon, they whisper amongst themselves, soon, something is coming.

Amongst them stands a flower tall and proud and exquisite. There is a sublimity about it that comes of sorrow and courage, love and grief, an elegance that holds fast to the remnants of a long-lost life and a beauty undimmed by fear or doubt, but illuminated by absolute faith.

And rain begins, not fierce but gentle, rain that sings of wistful dreams and faraway thought. It is filled, every drop, with a pulsing love that quickens every beat of her heart and sets her hopes on fire with a remembrance of a lion, all those years ago, who was the one and only who ever made her soul take flight, fitting wings to her pounding heart and letting her hands loosen and drop every worry and sorrow and anger she'd harboured, a magnificence inexplicable that realises her most heartfelt wishes as it manifests into the face of a lion.

A smile paints his golden face in beautiful joy, and he reaches a paw to her, and with a joyous sob she lets herself be taken, up, up, to the meadows of forever, in the embrace of a Lion.

Hm, not exactly what you'd have expected, is it? I always maintained my belief that Susan did go home, in the end, and I hope I did justice to that idea here.

Please review!