A/N: Thanks for your really positive reviews, guys! Sorry that I didn't mention Yvonne's age in the previous chapter, but she's about seventeen or eighteen.

Chapter 2

I drifted into a sort of sleep, still clutching my sketchbook that my adopted family had threatened to burn. Suddenly, I heard voices nearby. They seemed to be discussing me.

"Here we are," someone said, and I heard another person draw in a quick breath. The person who had spoken sounded like a man, but he had a gruff, almost bestial voice. "I'm not certain if she's alive or not."

"It's almost impossible to lose that much blood and survive," another voice said. I heard a horse moving away and I assumed that the owner of one of the voices was leaving, giving me some space. I heard someone else get off of another horse and come up to me, looking at the back of my shirt, which I could tell was completely soaked with blood. "Dear Aslan," he breathed. "What happened to this girl?" Wait, had this man said Aslan? Had I, when I had tripped, somehow thrown myself into Narnia?

I moaned and shifted my position on the ground. I heard the man beside me gasp and move back in shock. "You're alive?" I heard him ask. I weakly nodded my head. I shifted onto my back, moaning in pain as the scars on my back screamed because of the sudden weight on them. After the initial shock passed, I opened my eyes to get a good look at the person who stood over me.

This man had blue eyes that were framed by blond hair and he was looking down at me with concern written all over his face. He seemed to be about nineteen or twenty years old, only a couple of years older than me. He knelt down and held out his hand. Gratefully, I took it. I doubted I would be able to get up on my own, at least not for a while. As he pulled me up, I winced more than once because of the wounds on my back. Some of them, I could tell, were still open. I could just imagine what I looked like to this man: my face streaked with dirt and tears and the back of my shirt covered with blood and my entire body stained red by it.

The man gasped. "What happened to you?" he asked again.

"Whipping." I barely managed to whisper. My voice was hoarse from all the sobbing.

The man looked as though this was the most horrible thing he had ever heard of. "They whip girls where you're from?" he asked, sounding horrified.

"I don't think they whip all girls." I told him. "But my adopted parents whip me regularly."

"Where do you live?" he asked. I saw his hand twitching, moving towards a sword that hung at his side.

"England." I whispered.

He seemed to relax. "Well, you won't have to worry about being whipped anymore while you're here," he told me. "We don't tolerate that sort of thing here in Narnia." So I had guessed correctly that I was in Narnia when this man had mentioned the name Aslan. "Come with me," he said, guiding me towards his horse. "What kind of Narnian host could I call myself if I just let you stand here while your wounds need to be tended to? You're lucky it was one of the Centaurs who found you and not something else"

He gently lifted me onto his horse and then climbed on in front of me. I held onto him as he spurred the horse into a gallop. The steady rhythm of the horse and the aura of peace that the countryside held soon began to lull me back to sleep.

"I don't think I know your name." I told the man.

"Oh, where are my manners?" he gasped. "I do apologize for my rudeness. My name is Peter."

"I'm Yvonne." I murmured just before I fell asleep with my head resting against Peter's shoulder, my hand still clutching my sketchbook.

A/N: So that's how Yvonne and Peter first meet. I know. The suspense on what could have happened in Yvonne's past is killing you, right? Well, rest easy. I'll show you in a couple of chapters. Probably not the next chapter, but soon, I promise. In the meantime, R&R! Until next time, my reviewers!