~Author's Note: Okay, so for any of you who has done research on the ages of people in the Narnia Series, you will take notice that in Prince Caspian, Peter is 14, as is Caspian, Susan is 13, Edumnd is 11, and Lucy is 9. I know, none of them look that young in the movies so that's why I'm changing it. All of them are 4 years older! Got it? Lol, do enjoy, and don't worry, I'm still working on TC.~

I had grown up knowing little when it came to the thing called 'magic'. My parents were strict on the fact that I be 'normal', but they had a tough job at that one. I was always a bit more athletic than they liked, though I mostly did things such as archery and fencing, sports not common in north eastern Wisconsin. But now it was my last summer, come the end of august, I'd be off to college in England.

On this day, I could be found in the large open yard of my home. We lived off of Lake Michigan, a few miles north of Milwakee. I had my fencing sword in hand, going through the steps slowly of an advanced move. I have been fencing for six years now, but still learning. I wore none of the usual armor, since I had no one to practice with. Instead I wore pale blue jeans that flared half way down my shins, nearly covering my worn old red converses. A tight, long sleeve shirt, lavender in color, hugged my upper frame. My pale blonde hair was up in a messy bun. The soft golden locks typically fell down to my mid-back with the slightest curl to it, and even now the breeze coming off the large lake tried to tug my hair free from the clip.

I was glad my parents had chosen to live here, with the large back yard and wondrous view. The summers stayed relatively cool, though the winters were terrible.

I put the thought of harsh, icy winds and intense snow storms out of my mind, focusing again on the next steps, and let my mind drift off to England. I would soon be spending my next few winters there, which I was grateful for, though my parents worried about the war going on. Still, I had persisted. I would not be in London, under the constant fear of air raids, but in Brimingham. I had chosen Aston University, not only because I was going abroad, but because of their Biomedical Science department. Hopefully I wouldn't have to spend more than 5 or 6 years there, for then I could choose anywhere in the world.

I finished the steps with a smile and pointed the tip of my fencing sword to the ground. My shoulders rolled to loosen the muscles tense from the new movements, before heading to the separated garage. My parents had allowed me to use the space for whatever I wished, since a few years before we had moved here the house had been renovated, a two car garage having been added in the process. So I used the space for my collection of random things, including an area to keep my fencing and archery gear. As I put the practice sword away, I turned to a bow my father had gotten me through an auction for my 16th birthday. It had originally been an old family heirloom, until that family lineage had died out and all their things had been sold to cover a few debts the family had kept hidden from the public.

I didn't care so much about the family's history as I did the bow. It was a delicately carved long bow, scenes etched into its surface like a work of art. My favorite bit was the lion face at the bow tip. Other things carved into the bow were fauns, centaurs, and a few other magical beings. It was the closest thing to magic I had, and it was believed to have been made during the reign of King Arthur, though no one was sure. By the condition of the bow, it was barely a few years old and had been modeled after more ancient bows.

My fingers wrapped around it as I grabbed the coiled string and hip quiver. The quiver sat on a belt easily, while a strap attached to the bottom kept it flush against my leg, the strap just above my knee. Whoever had designed the quiver had made sure it would function with the movements of my leg without a problem, whether I walked, ran, or sat. There was even a little cap to make sure the arrows wouldn't fall out, and it was easy enough to get off.

I left the garage and blinked when an oddly warm breeze blasted me full in the face. I coughed, suddenly finding it hard to breath as the breeze turned into a full out gust of wind. I clutched to the bow and string, praying it wouldn't fly from my grip and snap somehow.

Finally, the wind died down, and when I opened my eyes, I wasn't looking at my yard anymore.

"Where the hell am I?" I asked, eyes wide.