A crash, the smell of copper and rust, but not quite. Blood, it had to be blood.

He couldn't see. Couldn't see the others, couldn't see what had happened.

He could feel nothing but numbness, and the press of his body against the cold floor, sticky with blood.

Something wet slipped down his face from his forehead. The smell of copper again, stronger.

He wanted to cry out, to scream but he couldn't move. Couldn't open his mouth.

Trapped, losing breath.

And then the pain hit. All at once, and with no warning. In his arms and in his legs,

his ribcage and his skull.

Ripping him apart from the inside and smashing his bones to nothing as though they were glass.

A throbbing headache and the crimson water pouring out from the slash in his lip like a waterfall.

He couldn't think, not of anything but the crushing pain coursing through his body like a wave.

And just like that, it was gone. He couldn't feel. Numb again.

And in that millisecond, he prayed.

Prayed that they had gone as soon as the crash had been heard.

Prayed that they didn't have to feel this pain, this agony.

Still, he could not see. Nothing but the darkness, and he had never known how much he loved the light until now.

His chest tightened, pain shot through his ribcage and then, a sickening crack.

He could no longer breathe, and he began to fade.

Images flashed through his mind,

not his whole life, like they say. And not slowly, in fact, the images flashed through his mind so quickly he could barely comprehend them in his state.

Edmund.

Lucy.

Susan.

Eustace.

Caspian.

The images got faster, and he drifted further.

Aslan.

Reepicheep.

Jill.

His mother.

His father.

The wardrobe.

The images got faster and faster until they were too quick to focus on one. Memories passing through like snowflakes falling in the winter, each one special and wonderful, but too many to focus on each. For as one falls by you, so does the next.

They continued until finally, he was gone. Faded out of existence, leaving just his body wounded and broken in the carriage.

The sound of a roar was the last thing that Peter heard.