When I started writing this it was for the start of a story, not a one-shot. Got around half way through and thought, this isn't how I wanted it to turn out. But reading it through I decided I quite liked it so thought I might turn it into a one-shot. So here it is, enjoy.

To be perfectly honest I have no idea at all why I'm currently out here, I could be talking to Mrs Badger and playing with a three cubs in front of a large, warm fire or visiting Arina deep inside the homes of the centaurs. But no; for reason known only to the subconscious part of my brain I'm out in the snow collecting herbs. Yes collecting herbs in winter. Actually I do know why I'm out here, I'm bored, and I was running low on herbs for various healing salves. Anyway it's not as if the snows ever going to leave anytime soon, you see the snows been around for a couple hundred years or so. Currently I'm just glad that it's not snowing.

I find it sad actually that for a centaur I have never seen spring or summer, to have never felt grass under my hooves. Since the White Witch took over it has been always winter and never Christmas. It has become dangerous for any true Narnians who do not follow the Witch to go out alone or unarmed. And that is why I'm out here carrying a basket for herbs along with a bow and arrows strapped to my back. I am a healer, not a warrior yet it is necessary to have some skill with weaponry in these times. War is coming, and coming fast. Rumour has it that a Son of Adam and a Daughter of Eve have set foot in Narnia again.

I was so deeply engrossed in thought that it was only when a drop of water fell on my head that I became aware of the world around me. And let me note for you, we don't get rain in Narnia; the only water that falls from the sky is frozen. And yet when I raised my head each tree, plant and bush was dripping with water, slush falling from branches and leaves, frost fading away. The snow was melting! The white blanket of snow was slowly being stripped away, the muffled sound of silence now echoed with the drip, drip, drip of water. Colours slowly began to peep through, dotting the whiteness with colour; greens, pinks, brown, whites, yellows and blues. Winter was slipping away and spring crept constantly forwarded. The trees were quivering as the Dryads began to awake once more and suddenly I was surrounded. A gust of petals and leaves circling me and slowly taking form, and through the wind there voices whispered constantly to me.

'The frost is thawing'

'Aslan is come again'

'The Witch's powers are wavering'

'The prophesy, the prophesy is being fulfilled'

Yet most of repeated, over and over again,

'Aslan has come, Spring, Spring has come, He has brought the Spring'

I was surrounded by every colour imaginable, the warm spring sun beating down upon my back.

Aye Aslan had returned to Narnia, the forest had come alive.