KINDRED SPIRITS

I wondered what it would be like if Tumnus had a sister. Then, to make the story more interesting and exciting, I decided why not have it be a long-lost sister, one whom Tumnus had never known about until just recently? So I decided to give it a shot. As always, reviews are welcome, and expected! But spare me the flames, please!


Characters (with some exceptions) © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.


Prologue

Rivers of perspiration poured abundantly off Alethea's brow. The young faun's beautiful face twisted and contorted in anguish, as the agonizing birthing pangs beset her.

Around her, several other female fauns stood by, doing all they could within their power to assist her. One of them hurried to fetch cool water to bathe Alethea's forehead, while another sat next to the bed and held Alethea's hand, whispering gentle, soothing words to her to help her be calm.

All that time, Alethea only continued to lie there, the straw that pillowed her ticking in protest as she tossed restlessly about, and she continued to cry out to the heavens.

Outside the room, Alethea's husband, Anlon, waited anxiously to receive word on his wife, and the child she was expected to deliver that night.

The stalwart, black-haired faun paced the floor endlessly, his hands folded behind his back, his cloven hooves sounding hollowly on the cool stone. Though the door to the room in which his wife resided was closed firmly, his sharp ears could easily hear Alethea's screams of torment, and the sound was like a knife to his heart.

It was all Anlon could do to hold himself back, to not go tearing into that room. The other fauns had already made it clear to him that there was nothing he would be able to do, that he would have to leave this entirely in fate's hands. Anlon had fussed, fretted, and fumed about the matter, but in the end was forced to give in. Though he never moved his lips, the robust faun offered an impassioned prayer to the almighty Aslan that, somehow, both his wife and his son (or his daughter, or whichever) would make it through, that everything would turn out all right.

In time, Alethea's cries quieted down, and Anlon could now make out the wails of an infant.

Then, at long last, one of the other fauns opened the door, and made the proud proclamation to Anlon that the little ones had arrived.

"The little ones?" Anlon repeated incredulously.

"She's borne a pair of twins," the chestnut-haired female informed him.

Anlon didn't believe it, until he got into that room and beheld the sight for himself.

Alethea, looking disheveled and thoroughly exhausted, yet strangely serene at the same time, lay against the sea of pillows with two swaddled bundles, one cradled gently within each arm. When Anlon moved in closer and knelt beside the bed, he saw that one of the younglings was a girl, the other a boy. They both looked remarkably alike, with damp honey-brown curls, slightly upturned noses, and matching dimples in their cheeks. Even their eyes were the same bright blue color, with the same lively spark. "Look at them, Anlon," said Alethea softly to her beloved mate, her face positively aglow, even as the tears coursed steadily down her cheeks. "Aren't they beautiful? Two little perfect angels, sent straight down from heaven."

"I can't believe it," Anlon whispered in amazement. As Anlon was not the sort of faun to be easily moved, that made this moment all the more significant.

"What shall we call them, my dearest?"

After much discussion and deliberation, it was decided in the end that, from here on, the little girl would be known to the world as Tamera…and her brother, Tumnus.