The White Witch has ruled Narnia for a hundred years, and no one has ever met a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve. Obviously they are merely myth. Traveling through the woods, I come across someone I never believed I'd meet.
"Good gracious me!" I exclaim.
She is not a dwarf or a nymph or a dryad. I know what she is immediately, and I know what I have to do. Befriend her, then betray her. Oh, I'm such a bad Faun…Father would be ashamed.
One hundred years and nary a sighting. Oh, Daughter of Eve…
Why me?