Chapter One: Through the Broken Door
The sky was growing dark by the time I came to the Great River. I did not know how long I had been running, nor how far I had come, but I was infinitely glad to have found water. I stood on the tree-lined riverbank looking down, the whirling and swirling of my thoughts mirroring the tossing foam below. A warm breeze was drifting westwards from the far sea, but I was chilled to the bone.
The Queen was dead.
I crouched down and stared at my reflection in the clear, flowing water. A pale, feminine face surrounded by locks of liquid-smooth hair stared back at me. I could easily have passed for a Daughter of Eve if I had wanted to, but the very thought of doing so disgusted me. It was the children that had destroyed my mistress and my livelihood. I looked down at my webbed toes and flexed my fingers—the small flaps of skin between them were the only things that marked me as different from my human cousins, and at that moment I was thankful for them.
From behind me there came a distant clamour of voices and the sound of a great many creatures moving through the undergrowth. Without hesitation, I jumped forward into the water and swam upstream, paying no heed to the sharp roots and weeds that tore at my dress. I knew that my kind could outswim any beast in Narnia, and after a few moments I had left the riverbank far behind.
I estimated that about an hour had passed when I finally pulled myself out of the river and stood on firm soil, shaking out my hair and listening for signs of movement. The foliage was much thicker here. In fact, if I was not mistaken, these were the Western Woods. A smile lit my features as I set off into the trees, feeling my skin begin to dry off in the breeze. I now had to find somewhere secret to stay.
I was not accustomed to living alone. From quite an early age my residence had been at the castle. My mother had been one of Jadis' handmaidens, and when she died it seemed only natural that I would take over from her. It had been a pleasant life. I spent my days tailoring dresses and cooking. It never occurred to me to question the Queen's authority, for it seemed Narnia was running smoothly under her rule. Now she was dead, and so were the other handmaidens—my sisters. I felt a flash of anger and swiped viciously at the leaves as I walked.
I continued under cover of darkness for what seemed like half the night. The moon above me was full and bright, and I had to dart through the greenery, concealing myself in the shadows to avoid being seen. I shot wary glances at the trees as I passed them. I knew that the dryads—a species I was closely related to—were steadfastly loyal to Aslan and would betray my presence without a moment's hesitation should I reveal myself.
Eventually, when it seemed the sky could not grow any darker and the stars were peering out from behind navy clouds, I stopped to rest. I had found a trickling brook, and bent down to drink from it. At that moment I heard a rustling behind me, and when I turned I saw with horror the figure of a tree spirit, forming gradually from swirling leaves. I did not know whether it had seen me so I turned and ran, fleeing through the undergrowth, paying no heed to the noise I was making. I could hear whispered voices behind me, silky-smooth, and the light pattering of feet. Panic rose in me as I burst through a thicket of trees into a small clearing.
I was trapped.
Ahead of me was a tall rock face, towering high into the sky. Behind me were the woods through which the spirits were approaching. I was about to turn, preparing myself to confront them, when I noticed a dark opening at the base of the cliff. Hoping it wasn't occupied by anything malicious, I fled over the grass towards it.
As I drew closer I saw a wooden door hanging off its hinges, half-covering the entrance. I glanced back quickly and saw a dozen murky shapes looming between the trees. I hurriedly slipped inside. I hid behind the door and tried to control my breathing. Hissing voices and the quiet rustle of skin against leaves reached my ears. Finally, there was silence. A few minutes passed before I was sure the spirits had gone. I poked my head around the doorframe and watched the swaying trees outside for any signs of movement. Nothing stirred, so I stepped away from the entrance, turned, and surveyed the cave.
It took me a moment to realise that it was, in fact, somebody's house. Moonlight streamed in through the open door and windows, illuminating the carpet, the wooden shelves, and the spindly furniture. I took a hesitant step forward. It seemed the place had been ransacked. A chair lay broken on its side. The scarlet curtains had been ripped from their hangings. There was something that looked horribly like blood on the floor near the window.
Another step forward, and something crackled under my foot. Looking down, I saw that it was a sheet of parchment. I dropped into a crouch and studied it in the dim light.
The former occupant of these premises, Faun Tumnus, is under arrest and awaiting his trial on a charge of high treason against her Imperial Majesty Queen Jadis, Queen of Narnia.
Signed,
Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police. Long live the Queen!
I let the parchment drift to the floor and thought back to the days before the battle. I vaguely recalled someone by the name of Tumnus being hauled through the chambers of the palace by the wolves. At the time I had not paid much attention to him—I had been busy helping the Queen prepare for her meeting with Aslan. I shook my head slightly and straightened up. Tumnus, whoever he was, had been a fool, and had probably lost his life as a consequence.
Through a small door at the back of the room, I found a circular bedroom. It did not seem to have been ravaged. I climbed under the warm bedcovers and lay listening to the wind whistling through the trees outside. Perhaps I could stay here, I thought. After all, it did not look like the owner would be coming back. I decided to think more on the matter in the morning and let my eyes flutter closed. It was not long before I fell into a fitful sleep.
