~Author's Note: Narnia and her beautiful Creatures belong to C.S. Lewis - based on the movies by Walt Disney Pictures and Walden Media. Caria and her family belong solely to me~
Prologue
Night had fallen hours ago and the stars twinkled unobstructed over the Narnian woods. The Eastern Sea lay a good kilometer away and Caria had managed to find a small, relatively sheltered clearing in the woods to rest the night before she made the final stretch in the morning. Halfway through her journey she realized she was headed for Cair Paravel and now that it was in reach she was worried she wouldn't be welcomed. Worse, she feared they would escort her sternly back to Calormen and the father and life she was desperately trying to escape.
She slumbered on the ground, the dawn still hours away. She hadn't had a peaceful, restful night since entering Narnia's borders. The air was colder here, the nights colder still, and she was in desperate want of a warmer cloak or even the skill in lighting a proper fire. She could pass the nights well enough in the shade of a large tree or cave, away from the biting wind of oncoming winter, but it was her mind and dreams she couldn't escape, no matter how hard she tried. A presence seemed to linger at the back of her mind every time she shut her eyes and it disturbed her from her sleep each night.
Tonight was no different.
Caria's eyes flew open and she immediately recognized the outline of trees and branches reaching overhead in a canopy that blotted out the stars, and relaxed slightly. Something continued to feel off and anxiety gripped her chest. The night was too silent, the trees too still.
She slipped her hand into her sword's handguard, curling her fingers tightly around the grip. Feigning sleep, she listened carefully to her surroundings. For a long, tense moment there was nothing. Then a twig cracked to her right and her breath caught. She kept her eyes shut, breathing in slowly and steadily, as heavy footsteps approached.
With a start, she drew her sword up and sat up slightly - and paused abruptly, gasping. A large man-ish figure stood before her, his own sword pointing down and easing her back to the ground. Caria stared at him a moment before dropping her blade. She looked both amazed and startled at once.
"State your name," the Centaur demanded.
"A talking man-horse," Caria breathed, eyes wide with mild amusement. "I must be in Narnia."
The Centaur did not seem amused. His frown deepened, dark lines etching his high forehead. "What is your name and what is your business?" he asked again.
"My name is Caria," she answered, her heavy accent lengthening the vowels of her name and rolling the 'r.' "I seek refuge at Cair Paravel."
