Narnia."It is the country of Aslan, the country of the Waking Trees and Visible Naiads, of Fauns and Satyrs, of Dwarfs and Giants, of the Gods and the Centaurs, of talking Beasts." That was the land I was dropped in when I was nothing more than a mere baby. One might guess certain death would await such a fragile thing without guardianship. But...
...Luck would have it that I would be spared. Raised by the talking beasts. I lived, I lived to see the day of my so call birth fifteen years later. My adoptive father was one that you would hear of for miles from the Wild Lands of the North to the Castle of Cair Paravel. Though I myself only lay eyes on him once every year. He wasn't a tamed Lion after all but he was good. Orieus was his good friend, he took me in when Aslan was not there. He was like my Uncle and he was very dear to me, they both were.
My story begins on my birthday. When Alsan sent me on a very important mission that would determine whether Narnia would perish under the White Witch Jadis or if prevail and triumph over her.