*NOTE* First off, all things Narnia belong to someone who isn't me. Also, this is my first Narnian fanfic so please be gentle. I have read a lot of the fanfic here and the talking animals don't seem to get a lot of facetime. Here's some for you.

The pain was oddly dull. As Samson lay reeling from the crossbow bolt that was sunk deep into his rear leg., he vaguely saw and heard the retreat of his fellow soldiers. For that is what he was; he was a soldier – and he was a tiger. A talking tiger of Narnia. He and many of his kind eagerly took up the call from the Telmarine-turned-Narnian king, Caspian. When the Kings and Queens of Old reappeared, it seemed inevitable that Narnia would belong to Narnians once more. Now, laying pierced on the cold, hard stone of the castle courtyard, he knew he would not live to see it.

He glanced up to see High King Peter escape. Samson smiled and gave a slight purr. He knew his sacrifice would not be in vain. Just moments before he was struck down, Samson diverted his own escape route to take down a Telmarine that would certainly have killed the High King. As he saw the minotaur collapse and the castle gate slam down trapping a handful of the other Narnians, he took solace in the fact that he (and they) would die for something.

It seemed most of the talking animals had escaped. They were faster, for the most part. Most of those trapped were fauns and minotaurs. Samson was honored to die with them.

And then he heard it, the unmistakable twang-zip of arrows and the click-snap of crossbows. Some of the Narnians turned to fight with their last moments. Samson just closed his eyes knowing he would be no good in a fight. He waited for the arrow that would finish him. With the clashing of steel and battlecries of the Narnians around him, he made peace with his death.

"Pssssst"

Samson barely registered the sound.

"Pssssst," came the sound again. Samson opened his eyes. Standing in front of him was a small, orange housecat. Strangely, there were rope burns around the cat's front legs.

"Can you crawl?" the cat asked.

"I don't know," Samson replied dully.

"Try. I can show you a way out if you can come now. The fight won't last long." Samson looked back and saw that this was true. Most had already been killed. He was about to growl out to them to come as well. The cat seemed to sense his intentions. "No. I am sorry but centaurs and the rest are too large. I am sorry." And Samson could see the genuine sorrow in the cat's eyes. He shared it. He could not bear the thought of leaving them behind. He realized, though, that if he could survive this, he could still do some good in the Narnian struggle.

He struggled to rise. To his surprise, he found he was able stand though he could not put weight on his injured leg. He grimaced when he looked at the black shaft and feathers sticking out. The cat led him toward a dark corridor. With one last sorrowful glance and a promise not to forget those he was leaving behind, he followed the cat. Though he had to drag his leg, he was able to move fairly quickly, though painfully. The cat led him to the end of the empty corridor and knocked down a small iron grate that sat tucked near the floor.

"In here," the cat said. "Quickly now!" Samson slipped in, just managing to squeeze through. The bolt in his leg struck the wall and Samson saw stars and nearly passed out. The cat pushed his hip in for him and helped him slip the rest of the way though. Once through, Samson found himself lying panting on a short stone curb next to flowing water. An aquaduct, he realized. The tunnel was 2 feet high at best and no more than 3 feet wide. Mercifully, the cat did not urge him to move on for several moments.

Samson was soothed by the quiet sound of the slowly moving water. He suddenly thought something was missing. Then it hit him. There were no more sounds from the courtyard except the distant voices of the Telmarine soldiers. The mighty tiger let out a low moan for his fallen comrades.

"Quiet! Please," the cat said. "We are out of view here but not out of danger."

"Thank you," Samson managed through the lump in his throat. "I am Samson. I don't remember you being with the raiding party. Who are you and where did you come from?"

"My name is Slink," the cat said softly. "I have lived in this castle since before my memories begin. All I knew was that I could understand these humans when they spoke. I used to sit and listen as Prince Caspian was given his lessons. Those lessons included tales of the old Narnia. I have been waiting for this day for a very long time." Slink drifted off, momentarily lost in memories.

"I owe you much, Slink," the tiger said.

"Please. You do not. Come on. We have to move deeper into the waterway."

The crawl through the aquaduct was not a long one but was quite painful for Samson. The activity in the castle was at a high and the constant din of Telmarine voices kept the tiger's nerves on edge. After nearly an hour, Slink stopped.

"Here we are," he said. "Just outside of this grate is the bridge across the gorge. There is a narrow ledge along the bottom of it that will take you all the way across. From there, I am certain you can avoid contact under the cover of night."

"Thank you again, Slink," Samson said. "Why don't you come with me?"

The cat smiled but shook his head. "Nothing would make me happier. But I can not. I have my reasons. But I will be the first to greet you when this castle belongs to Narnians." His smile widened.

The great tiger nodded. "Until then, friend Slink." With that, he turned and started the long, painful journey home."

"Samson."

The tiger turned to see Slink looking at him with a tear in his eye.

"Are all the stories true? I mean…" The cat paused. "Aslan. Does he exsist? Have you met him?"

Samson turned away. "I don't know. I hope he does." He turned away and started across. "Maybe we'll find out together one day."