Again she awoke too early in the morning, the pale yellow sunlight of dawn glancing off the beach she had ended up asleep on, making her eyes smart. She trotted to the cold water streaming into the ocean to bathe her sleepy face. She paced along the beach for what felt like hours, though she knew from the sun that it was only one hour at most. She learned that the peninsula on which Cair Paravel had been built was now an island, separated from the mainland by a fordable creek. On her way back, when she was about a mile from the beach directly below the Cair, her ears detected the regular splashes of oars from a rowboat. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she gazed out at the ocean, quickly spying two armoured soldiers with a small prisoner- a child, or a dwarf? she wondered. Whoever it was, he or she was bound tightly- Rachel watched in shock as the two men heaved their prisoner overboard and proceeded to row away. Cursing, she threw off her sword belts and sprinted to the water to throw herself in, praying she could swim fast enough to save whoever it was. Mentally damning the salt water, she winced as she was forced to open her eyes under the ocean. Relief and glee flooded her heart when she recognized a stocky form attempting to kick its way to the surface- attempting and failing, that is. Grabbing his or her clothing, she dragged the person through the water, gasping in lungfuls of blissful air when her head broke the surface. She glanced about for a split second to make sure the soldiers were not a threat before hauling the dwarf- for it was a dwarf, a male Red Dwarf- back to the beach. He sputtered and coughed as they stumbled up onto the wet sand, shaking his head like a soaked dog; Rachel was forced to crack a grin while retrieving and belting her weapons back on.
"Are you all right?" she queried, as she cut the ropes holding the dwarf's ankles and wrists together with her straight dagger.
"Hmph. Thanks", the dwarf muttered gruffly, shaking the ropes off his person.
"No problem", she replied, an amused impish smirk forcing itself onto her face. "And by the way, I'm Rachel." She held out her hand.
"Trumpkin." Silence. Then- "What's a little girl doing alone on this beach carrying around her father's sword?"
Rachel smirked with amusement. She was used to being treated as less than she was. While Peter, Edmund, and probably even Susan would have gone off at being called 'little' and accused of bearing their parents' weapons, she had always been underestimated. Short, soft, and innocent-looking, Rachel was only intimidating when she started attacking someone with her appalling speed and strength. "Just out for a walk", she replied. Trumpkin glanced up at her suspiciously, but seemed to be assuaged by her purposefully childlike smile. "So- what were they trying to drown you for? Who were those soldiers, anyway?"
"Telmarines, obviously-" He anwswered with a shrug.
"What? Why are Telmarines doing in Narnia?" Confused and concerned, Rachel halted. Trumpkin kept walking, brought up short when he realized she was no longer beside him.
"What're you doing back there? And what d'you mean, Telmarines in Narnia? This is Telmar. Narnia hasn't existed for nearly a thousand years . . . not to say there aren't a few of us who still call ourselves Narnians."
Rachel groaned. "Great. By the Lion, really? And why Telmarines? Peter is going to go crazy when he hears . . . Suppose I should've expected everything not to've stayed the same, but still-"
"What's changed? It's been like this for a thousand years- given, it's not to say it isn't despicable, what happened, but it isn't exactly a surprise."
"Oh- nothing." Rachel decided that anyone in their right mind would not believe her if she told them she and the monarchs from more than a millennium ago were currently camping out in the the ruins of their ancient palace. But there wasn't really any other explanation for what they were doing here or who they were . . . "My friends and I are just a bit- out of the loop -you might say." The dwarf looked at her as if worried for her sanity. She decided to let the sovereigns deal with what to tell him, and continued to lead Trumpkin toward the camp.
"Wait here, please?" She asked him, with two hundred metres to spare on the path up the cliff to the ruins. "I just need a quick minute with my friends- to explain things to them."
"Alright," Trumpkin shrugged, taking a seat on a nearby boulder. He took out his pipe and lit it, twitching an amused smile onto Rachel's lips.
She trotted up the rest of the path, slowly so as not to be out of breath when she reached the ruins. Three of them were still asleep, Peter under a tree, Susan and Edmund still in the circle they had first dozed off in. Only Lucy was missing, though Rachel felt no worry about the youngest queen; she had always been safe so close to home. She might even be simply looking for breakfast, or beginning to gather provisions, as had been the plan for the day.
Rachel went to the tree Peter slept under. It was a middle-aged silver birch, brightly reflecting the morning sunlight. She smiled sadly down at her sleeping king and knelt at his side, slowly brushing blonde locks away from his forehead. The gentle touch, however, awakened some defensive instinct in him; Peter grabbed her wrist in a painfully strong grip while unsheathing Rhindon with his other hand. However, Rachel's combat skill were in no way dormant, so by the time the blade was naked in his hand, she had him pinned on the ground with one knee, her free hand holding his sword arm to the ground above his head.
"Oops. Sorry," she apologized, heartfelt shame on her face. She let him up gently and he released her wrist, which was bruising, only to slide his fingers up to her face. She looked down, but he pulled he chin up to look into her eyes- and then pulled her into a tight embrace.
It felt so good to be in his arms again, his breath on her ear, her face pressed against his neck . . . so perfect and familiar. She smiled blissfully into his skin, forgetting everything that had happened in the year past. For this moment, they were High King Peter and his General and Defender, Rachel. They were partners, in every sense of the word.
"I'm sorry about storming off last night," he murmured into her hair.
"It's okay. You had every right to. I did- tell you off, I guess."
"And- and I suppose . . . you were right to. I will try to remember how a king acts. It's been so long . . ."
"I know." She pulled apart to look at his face. "But we're here now. We're home. No matter what home may be like now." Rachel smiled hopefully, and Peter responded by leaning in and giving her a firm, sweet kiss that left them both dreamy-eyed for a few seconds.
"There are other people here . . . " Edmund's dry voice caused them to spring apart.
"Oh! Right." Rachel jumped up guiltily.
"Oh, come on Ed, you know you're used to it . . . hey, why are you soaked?" Peter asked in confusion.
"Well . . . alright, so I was walking on the beach this morning and I- came across this dwarf." Rachel looked carefully at Peter, and then around at Edmund and Susan, both of whom were now sitting up.
"What?" Was Ed's response.
"Well, there were these two soldiers in a rowboat, and it turns out they were Telmarines-"
"Wait, what? What d'you mean they were Telmarines, what are Telmarine soldiers doing in Narnia?" asked Peter angrily.
"Peter, it would be really helpful if you'd let me finish. I'm just saying." Rachel raised her eyebrows pointedly.
"Sorry, sorry . . ."
"Okay, so they were trying to drown the dwarf and I jumped in and got him- they didn't see me- but yeah, he's waiting on the path for us to come and talk to him. But Peter, wait-"
The young man had jumped up and started toward the path the moment she had told him where the dwarf was. "What?" he asked in consternation.
"Peter, please sit down and listen to me. Don't go crazy when I tell you, promise? Look, just sit down?" He looked suspicious and worried, but he took a seat between Edmund and Susan, laying a sheathed Rhindon across his knees. Rachel sat in front of the three of them.
"Alright. So the political situation in Narnia . . . is that there isn't- it isn't- really a country anymore.
"What d'you mean, it isn't a country anymore?!" Lucy stepped through the woods behind Rachel to plop down beside the older girl, brown eyes smoldering with fear and anger. Rachel put her face in her hands for a moment while the Pevensies gazed open-mouthed at her. Rachel put a hand on Lucy's shoulder and spoke earnestly to her monarchs.
"It's been more than a thousand years since we were here. In that time, Telmar conquered Narnia. According to Trumpkin- that's the dwarf- there are a few who still call themselves Narnians. But that's it."
"So . . . what are we supposed to do? For Narnia? If it doesn't even exist anymore . . . " Lucy asked, her glittering eyes betraying her heartbreak. Edmund came to sit next to the young girl, his arms around her.
"There must be some reason we were brought back", Peter spoke decisively. "Perhaps this dwarf can shed some light on the matter. Rachel? Would you take us to him?"
She nodded, and the five donned their weapons in a now hostile country to head down the path.
Trumpkin, his back to them, was still enjoying his pipe when the five humans came down the path.
"Took you long enough," he called out as he turned at the sound of their footsteps crunching in the leaves. "Hah! More kids! Thought you'd have a parent with you at least."
"Eh . . . yes", Rachel replied uncertainly as the three eldest Pevensies bristled. Peter stepped forward aggressively, thrusting out his hand to be shaken.
"I am High King Peter, the Magnificent." Trumpkin sniggered. Peter looked enraged. He drew Rhindon, and Rachel sighed deeply. This was not going well. But Peter took a deep breath, and continued. "These are my royal siblings, King Edmund the Just and the Queens Susan the Gentle and Lucy the Valiant. I believe you have already met our Defender, General Rachel Lona.
"Wait- are you joking? Don't tell me- you're it?"
"We're what?" Susan queried, stepping forward.
"The Kings and Queens of Old and their warrior protector, the ones who were s'possed to answer that damn horn . . . you're a bunch of kids?"
"My horn?" Susan asked. Trumpkin slapped his forehead.
"And we're doomed." He continued to shake his head.
"We might not be as powerless as you might think!" Peter cried, his eyes snapping. He lowered his sword at the dwarf, and Trumpkin chuckled.
"You really don't want to do that, boy," though he looked eager at the challenge.
Something changed in Peter's sparking eyes. "Not me. Him." Peter handed Rhindon to Trumpkin, nodding at Edmund.
"What?" Rachel then clamped her mouth shut- and then she turned to Peter. "Why does Ed get to fight?" Peter looked surprised.
"Well", he began quietly, "I was trying to make a point of the younger one-"
"I'm a freaking girl, Pete."
"Oh. Yes. Well, you can fight him then, I suppose."
Rachel whirled around, beaming at Trumpkin. She then turned to Edmund and pointed at herself, receiving a shrug followed by a nod in response.
"Come hither then, my good dwarf. Let's go up to the ruins. There's some flat, open ground up there, perfect for sparring." Trumpkin just shook his head in disbelief.
"I don't want to hurt a girl", he told her as they were squaring off in front of the four crumbing thrones.
"Don't you worry about it", Rachel assured him. "We aren't fighting to the death here. Though that would be easier . . . "Trumpkin gave her his 'are-you-insane' look again. "Well I'm just saying, it's always faster if you get to kill your opponent, because if it's just to make them submit, you have to be careful not to hurt them . . . nevermind." Rachel decided that Trumpkin would get that look stuck on his face if she kept talking, so she simply drew her scimitar and looked to Edmund to call the duel as started.
"En guarde! . . . and- fight!"
Rachel generally waited for her opponents to make the first move. Competitive and aggressive she may have been, but she was also smart, and allowing herself to be attacked first gave her insight into her opponent's weaknesses without giving up any of her own. Sure enough, Trumpkin came toward her, a concerned expression on his face. 'He doesn't want to hurt me . . . ' she recalled. The dwarf raised his blade to chop across, but barely after he had even changed the direction of the borrowed Rhindon, she swung up to parry, and then arced up for another cross-cut. He parried her that time, then cut at her calves. She jumped to avoid it, but instead of jumping up, she went forward, landing on one knee, slamming her scimitar down to both hold Rhindon close against his chest and allow the edge of her blade to touch the skin above his jugular.
"Hmph," Rachel sighed. "That was so short . . . oh well." Trumpkin was staring at her. He still looked like he thought she was insane, but he had also gained respect for the human girl.
Rachel glanced up at the Pevensies. Susan was shaking her head while Peter and Edmund stood together, chuckling at the duel, which had lasted approximately thirty seconds. Peter looked up, catching her eye. He smiled at her, a deep, true smile, that lit his face from the inside out. She found herself walking to his side, her blade sheathed on her back. "Thanks," she whispered, as Edmund went over to speak with Trumpkin and Lucy.
"Like you say, it's what you're made for . . . hahah! -but remember those first few years? Orieus said he'd never seen someone so awful with a blade." The blond king chuckled again.
"Oh, by quiet, you bully-" But he pulled her into a headlock and pressed a impudent kiss to her cheek, drawing a startled giggle out of Rachel. She slapped his arm in response as he released her, laughing again.
"So, Trumpkin. What can we help with? We were brought back for a reason, and we were hoping you had some idea as to what that reason is." Edmund stated bluntly.
"Are there enough Narnians left to create an army, to overthrow the Telmarine king?" was Peter's question.
"That's just it. We need help. There is an army, and we've been trying to overthrow that tyrant of a ruler, Miraz, but the Telmarines have more men, more resources . . . " Trumpkin looked uncertainly around at the five humans.
"Well, we're here. Surely Aslan will help us all now." Lucy smiled in her certainty.
"Lu, I'm not sure it's going to work the same way it did last time . . . ", Susan interjected.
"So, what's been happening exactly?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, and why did you blow Su's horn, anyway, if you didn't want our help to fight the Telamarines?" Peter added righteously.
"I wasn't the one who blew it!" Trumpkin seemed angered by their assumption. "'Was some Telmarine boy, bein' chased by his own soldiers. I was captured, taken to the castle- and from what I heard of the Telmarines talking, it was Prince Caspian- the heir to the Telmarine throne- who blew your horn. And he was prob'ly runnin' away from the soldiers 'cause his uncle's tryin' to have him killed."
"Wait-"
"What?" The confused responses echoed around the group.
"Erm, could you please explain that a bit more?" Lucy pleaded.
"Yeah, sorry. You people really have no idea what's going on, do you?" The dwarf seemed tickled by this fact.
"Well, no. Having been gone for a thousand years, we don't have the best grip on local politics," Edmund replied dryly.
"Right. So, the country is ruled, right now, by the Lord Protector Miraz. The son of the King, Prince Caspian, is the heir to the throne, but Miraz is a power-hungry tyrant who wants to keep the throne for him and his. His wife just had a baby- a boy- so he wants the heir of the throne out of the way so his line can be kings, instead of Caspian. At least, that's what I'm guessing."
The four monarchs and Rachel stared at Trumpkin, perplexed.
"Alright," Edmund said slowly, always the first to grasp any complex political situation, "Does this Caspian know about the Narnians? Does he . . . support them, what they're for?"
"Dunno."
"Well, that's helpful," Susan drawled sarcastically. Trumpkin shot Susan a glare.
"I never met the kid, alright?"
Susan shrugged.
"He's with Narnians now, at any rate. At least that's who he was with when I was captured," Trumpkin added.
"We should go to them. The Narnians who have Caspian," Rachel clarified, her expression set.
"Rachel . . ." Susan protested.
"She's right," Edmund agreed. Rachel smiled at him and the two knocked their forearms together to make an 'X'. It was a symbol of solidarity between the three fighters of the five, and Edmund and Rachel possessed a special, close friendship. Each knew what was to be always second to Peter; they had spent countless hours training and fighting side by side, and, though it may have seemed trivial to others, Edmund made people laugh, and Rachel loved to laugh even more than she loved to fight.
"I concur," was Peter input, though he seemed irked by Rachel and Edmund's initial promotion of the idea. Lucy was beaming at the thought of meeting more Narnians. Since her realization that the companions from their reign were long gone, she had sorely missed her Narnian friends, and this promised to introduce her to many new potential friends.
"Alright." Susan, happy that everyone was in agreement, was eager to plan their trip. "We must get our food together, and perhaps some extra clothing? And how are we to bring all your armour?" she asked, turning to Peter, Edmund, and Rachel.
"Oh! I forgot to tell you- " Rachel suddenly remembered, "The peninsula- it's an island now. There's only a stream separating it from the mainland, but we'll definitely have to go through water to get to it. I'm not sure how deep it is, but I expect everyone except for maybe Peter will have to swim."
"You might have mentioned it before. That presents a serious problem for transportation!" Susan cried.
"We've been a bit preoccupied, sister", Peter reminded her, while Lucy took her hand.
"Come on", the younger queen cajoled, "Let's find out if we can find some sort of waterproof container in the treasury." Susan allowed herself to be led away by her sister, leaving the others near the thrones.
"We should help them", Rachel said hesitantly. She turned, followed by Ed. As she glanced back, Peter and Trumpkin sat and began to talk. She shrugged and turned back towards the treasury, but stopped at a hand holding her shoulder. Edmund turned her to face him. His dark eyes stared deep into her green ones. He nodded.
"Thank you. For doing whatever you did to him. He's not the same as he was- before . . ." Ed turned to glance at Peter, deep in conversation with the red Dwarf, his back to them, "but he's better than he has been. I know you had something to do with it."
"I just talked to him, Ed."
"You said something that the rest of us couldn't. It helped a bit." He clapped her on the back and the pair of friends turned and went to help the two queens.
The problem was solved by the evening. Provisions had been gathered, as well as the three warriors' armour and weapons, and all had been carefully placed in a trunk that had lain in the treasury. Though it was heavy, it was water-proof, and Edmund, Peter, and Rachel were confident that the three of them could swim while holding it floating above the water.
The six ate a dinner of apples and fish. Everyone was very tired of apples. The night was long for Lucy, for she could not sleep on the ground that had been so soft the previous two nights. She kept hearing whispers in the trees, only to look up and find it was windless, and there were still no dryads moving about. She thought she was still awake when a soft rumbling voice rolled out of the woods. It called to her and she rose, knowing it meant her no harm. Now out of sight of her sleeping companions, she called out,"Hello? Who are you?"
"Why Lucy, do you not remember my voice?" it gently chided. Lucy felt instantly ashamed and dismayed, but still, she could not figure out who it might be. The trees around her were suddenly moving in a graceful, joyous dance. A smile broke upon her face; the dryads were waking! A stand of willows moved aside to reveal a soft golden glow around a huge, resplendent lion.
"Aslan!" She rushed to him, burying her face and hands in his sweet silky fur, glee and deep happiness contenting her soul. "Aslan, will you come see the others? They would all love to see you."
"No, dear one. I called to your eldest brother; he did not hear. I called to you, and you came. You must go west Lucy, tell the others, go west . . . " and Lucy woke with a gasp. She rolled over and fell back asleep, two tears sliding down her cheeks, for she had been ripped away from the one she loved most.
"Lu?" Peter called out in a whisper. "'You alright?" He had been woken by the soft noises of distress from where she had been sleeping.
"Fine. I'm fine. Peter?"
"Yes?"
"What direction are we to go when we leave the ruins?"
"Um," Peter responded blearily, "South, up the coastline- why?"
"We should go west. Inland."
"Lu, why do you say that?"
Lucy rolled over and said sleepily, "Aslan told me. 'Said 'go west, Lucy'," and she fell back to sleep, leaving Peter awake to wonder.
Rachel awoke to midmorning light; she had finally been able to sleep past dawn. She smiled, sleepily but happily, rolling over to rest her head against Peter's chest. He yawned and put an arm over her, curling up to put his cheek right above her head. "'Morning," she mumbled, and sighed.
"We should get up."
"I know . . . " and she slowly uncurled, giving herself a little shake to wake herself up, rising to her feet as she did so, Peter's arm dropping softly back to the ground.
"I didn't mean right now," he whined, a smile on his lips, eyes still closed. They opened when Rachel drew her sword, trying a few passes to loosen up. "What're you doing?"
"Practicing. 'Might get to use this some time soon." She glanced down at him with a grin, then offered her hand to help him up. He reached behind himself, then leapt up with a shout, raising the gleaming unsheathed Rhindon in attack.
Susan, Lucy, Trumpkin, and Edmund were jolted awake by shouted challenges, laughter, and the sharp clanging of steel on steel.
"Is that really necessary?" Susan asked disapprovingly. Lucy just giggled, and Trumpkin shook his head in confused resignation. Edmund, on the other hand, grabbed his blade.
"Hey Peter, Rachel! Can't a chap get in on a decent fight?"
"Ed- ah!" he grunted as Rachel whacked his hip with the flat of her blade, "Sorry mate, it'd be too uneven."
"Hah! I'll take you both on. C'mon Ed, help your brother out, I need the challenge!" she cried, grinning. "Wait, just let me get my buckler." Peter stopped long enough for her to slip the straps over her left forearm and pull out her dagger with the same limb. Now armed with a long and a short blade, as well as the buckler, she faced off against the two taller boys. Ed went in first, fresh and breathing easy, having not fought yet. This was followed by a lightening fast series of slashes, chops and parries, after which Edmund was knocked back with a blow from Rachel's buckler. Peter moved in and was met by raining blows but no parries- she had employed her buckler to block them, leaving her scimitar free to place at the High King's neck, signaling him 'out'. Edmund recovered quickly, however, and just as Rachel had gotten rid of Peter, Ed had almost gotten his longsword to touch her back, but she spun and parried with massive force, almost knocking the blade out of the youngest king's hand. Edmund evened the odds when Peter threw Rhindon to him, hilt first. Armed with two long blades, he was now a more formidable opponent. After some risky fast back and forth motions and hits between the two, Rachel was forced to spin, thrusting the buckler, with Ed's sword still on it from his slash at her, over her head. High kicking the wrist that held his longsword, she caused him to drop it, wincing. He countered with a powerful series of blows that drove her back to a stand of rocks. Stepping up on one, Rachel gained higher ground. Delivering a hard blow with the scimitar, she jumped off the rock, hitting Ed in the chest with the buckler and hooking her ankle behind his, she caused him to fall backward onto his rear. She trapped his sword arm on the ground, holding it there with her buckler, her scimitar placed down the center of his chest, its tip at his throat.
Rachel sheathed her blade and helped Edmund up. Both were panting heavily, drops of sweat rolling off their foreheads. "Whew! Good one, Ed."
"Thanks." They knocked forearms as Peter picked Edmund's longsword up off the ground and came towards them, smiling.
"Well, I don't think we've completely forgotten how to fight," he remarked, offering apples to both of them.
"Well, me and Ed haven't", Rachel shot back mischievously. Peter just shook his head.
"So, Rachel, reckon you can still chuck a knife?"
"I hope so . . ." the girl shrugged. She hadn't found her bandolier-style leather sash of five throwing knives and sheathes in the treasury. It had been an integral part of her fighting gear and had saved many lives before, on the battlefield, most often Peter's. He just tended to be the target of archers and kamikaze type individuals; people who could only be stopped quickly enough and from a distance by fast-moving sharp objects that permanently interrupted the flow of blood to their brains.
They moved out at midmorning, the sun halfway to its zenith. They stone chest was extremely heavy, the three fighters employing every ounce of strength and determination they had to get it across the wide stream mouth, their muscles feeling as though they were screaming in protest as they reached the opposite shore, all three grunting and sighing under the weight. Then, when it was across, the three, though shaking from fatigue, were forced to don their heavy battle armour, pushing on along the beach. It was in the coppery light of late evening that the six finally halted. They had trudged south all day, Lucy helplessly frustrated in the back of their group. She knew that the only person who realized why was Peter, for she had told none other. He had explained to her that the going was much easier on the coastline, without the problem of cutting through underbrush, which would have been a definite challenge presented by a westward course through the thick Western Woods of Edmund's domain.
By the middle of the afternoon, tired from their hike across the sands, they came to a huge river mouth.
"'S the River Beruna," Trumpkin grunted, glancing up at Peter.
"Oh."
Everyone except for Lucy felt like screaming; a whole day had been wasted traveling south on the beach, and the six had to turn inland now, to look for a place to cross the river. The youngest child, however, only gazed up at her older brother, wisdom and disappointment flooding out of her eyes. Peter grimaced, refusing to reply.
"I guess we'll have to brave the woods from here," was his only regretful statement. They all turned west, plodding along the muddy riverbank until the sun faded and twilight sunk into the forest. They found a small, damp clearing to sleep in, and flopped down, devouring a quick dinner before Susan, Trumpkin, Lucy, and Peter fell asleep. Edmund and Rachel sat back to back, silent, neither knowing the other was thinking the same thoughts. Finally, Rachel decided to express her doubts. She would have told no one else, but she and Edmund were so comfortable together and accustomed to each other's presence that it seemed almost as if their was no one else to listen but another part of their consciousness, something constant, whose opinion was valued just as much, if not more, than their own. This closeness was bred from long campaigns, where they either shared the burden of supporting and loving Peter, or Peter was left at Cair Paravel, because of injury, or because he, as the High King, was needed to govern and be the diplomat, while the younger king and his general fought and led, side by side.
"Hey Ed?" She leaned her head backward onto his shoulder. "Do you think- ummm . . . so- so I sort of overheard Lucy and Peter talking."
"Me too."
"What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sat back up, but couldn't move to face the dark-haired king because Lucy's head was pillowed on her outstretched legs. She breathed out a sigh in frustration.
"Why didn't you?"
"Huh?"
"Why didn't you say anything?" Edmund's voice accused.
"I should have." The girl looked down and brushed Lucy's fringe off her forehead. "I should have for Lucy. She was right, I believe that she saw Him. If any of us would've, it would be her. Were you awake too?"
"Yeah."
"We're bad friends- advidors- I dunno what- for this. We should've done something, made Peter change his mind."
"Maybe . . . I'm not sure he would have listened to me. Or you. He's pretty pig-headed about . . . everything, right now."
Rachel just nodded against his head. "Well, we're going the right way now. Even if we did lose a day."
"True."
"Yeah . . . g'night, Ed."
"'Night, Rachel."
