A/N: This is set during the time that all the Pevensies are in Narnia, about seven or eight years after they first arrived, placing all of them in their twenties, roughly. And, I know, I know, typical girl-falls-into-Narnia fic, but we all have to start somewhere, right? Lastly, for those of you who may not know anything about horses or horse trials, just google "jumping horse show outfits" or something to get an idea of what I'm talking about. It's a difficult sport, and I love it, so I obviously had to include it somehow. That's all.
Disclaimer:I, unfortunately, do not own Narnia or any of its residents, except for Alea at the moment.
The small redhead bent low over the neck of her stallion as he sailed over the jump, body molded to the shape of the horse beneath her as they flew. Her hands stretched out, giving him as much rein as he needed to land without inhibition, and he took it gracefully, forelegs hitting the earth and propelling him forward. This was it. Two more jumps and they would go clear, and the blue ribbon seemed within their reach.
Alea clicked to her black jumper, encouraging him to lengthen his strides as they approached the double oxer. Two other horses had run out at this jump, one had refused, unseating its rider, but Alea knew she didn't have to worry about that with Thoreau. He was as steady now as he had ever been, and as they approached the jump, she felt her worries melt away. He would jump, and jump cleanly. She was sure of it. Thoreau's strides lengthened beneath her, and as soon as they hit the sweet spot right before the fence, he took off, launching them over the trickiest jump on the course. They landed perfectly, a smile of elation on Alea's face as she stretched and gave, giving and taking rein as needed.
Thoreau snorted as they headed for the last jump, a simple vertical. They had won it. Alea could feel it in her bones. There was nothing that could stop them now. As the black horse leaped elegantly over the tall vertical, Alea closed her eyes briefly, savoring the moment of suspension as the two of them hung in the air. The feeling of triumph at their sure win. Then Thoreau landed, and Alea immediately knew something was wrong. There was a click, sort of like a playing card caught in the spokes of a bicycle wheel, and everything felt wrong.
She felt her horse stumble, falling to his knees, and Alea reached forward, giving with the reins, but not feeling him take them. She was catapulted over his head, still reaching for his soft mane, the curve of his neck, but was rewarded with the rough feeling of dirt on her face, and she slid forward as everything started to go black. She lay on the ground, still and bent, time seeming to move in slow motion. A large shadow passed over her vision, and looking up with bloodshot eyes, she saw the shape of her stallion. He too was being catapulted in an almost comical cartwheel, about to land on her small body.
Alea knew she would not survive the impact of a fifteen-hundred pound Dutch Warmblood crushing her into the earth, and the paralyzed muscles of her body prevented her from moving out of the way. Her breath wouldn't come, and it felt like her head was about to explode, but she just laid there, watching the silhouette of her partner in flight coming down toward her. She closed her eyes, preparing to die as the watching crowd shouted, and her world grew dark as a crushing impact knocked any remaining breath from her body, and her vision exploded in hues of red and orange.
Everything went black again, as if someone had simply flipped a switch and turned off the lights, and Alea felt the sounds of the screaming crowd fade away, to be replaced with, oddly enough, the chirping of birds, the rustle of grass. A warm breeze blew across her face, and Alea found herself able to open her eyes. She stared up at a clear blue sky, not at all like the overcast grey one she had seen when she had woken up that morning.
Flexing her muscles, she found that, although a little sore, she was able to move. And to breathe. When she realized this, she took in a shuddering, gasping breath, unable to believe that her lungs were seriously expanding and contracting, sure that she had just been crushed beneath the partner of her heart. Alea slowly sat up, moving and testing her limbs, shocked that nothing seemed broken. She opened her eyes, half expecting to find herself at the golden gates of heaven. But this was much different.
Alea was in the middle of a forest glade, amidst tall trees whose leaves rustled in the wind, and she was sure that she heard whispers on the breeze, faces among the branches that were there for but a moment before disappearing again. Warm, wheat-colored sun delighted on the planes of her face, coloring the world in gentle shades of green and gold and brown, and Alea was nothing if not confused. Last time she'd checked, she'd been in the middle of dreary, overcast England at the horse trials with Thoreau, preparing to win the class that qualified her for Nationals. And now she was here. What had happened to her?
Alea stood to her feet, careful not to upset her precarious balance, looking down to see that she was still dressed in her show clothes from the trial- dove-grey breeches, tall, soft black leather boots, a black show jacket with a lavender ratcatcher, and black gloves. She even still had her crop stuck in one boot. The gold pin she'd received from her father on the eve of his death still glistened at her throat, in place of the standard stock pin most riders wore. Her long, softly curling red hair was still tucked beneath her black velvet helmet. Now she was even more confused- it was like she'd traveled through time, but without her consent.
The sound of muffled paws made Alea freeze, tendrils of fear creeping up her spine, threatening to paralyze her for the second time that day. She'd heard tales of the sorts of wild beasts that one found when far beyond the reaches of civilization, but had always discounted them as silly fools who exaggerated the nature of things. Now that she was here, in this strange place, all alone, she tended toward believing them. Turning around slowly, she struggled to keep from crying out. For less than a meter away from her, certainly within pouncing distance, was a massive golden lion.
