Dated 27/07/15 To be honest, it's sort of hilarious that I've come back to re-write this thing two whole years after I first tried to start it. Maybe I'll get a bit further this time, maybe I won't. Who knows, honestly. I just really needed something fun to fill up my summer, and this terribly indulgent fanfiction seemed like the answer. OCs are my weakness, because really - who doesn't want to feel like they could just drop straight into Narnia someday? I can't really feel any shame in enjoying myself. So anyway, I hope you enjoy the newly refurbished chapter!

Disclaimer: Everything except Alice does not belong to me. I ain't that clever.

"Alice! Alice, wake up!"

I jolted out of my doze with a small gasp, straightening hurriedly from where I had started listing against the radiator. Kai slowly removed her elbow from my ribs, her fine eyebrows rising in pointed alarm as she darted her gaze from the front of the room, to me, and back again. I felt a sharp sinking feeling settle into my stomach and grimaced as I met the eyes of my teacher.

Mr Brandrick did not look amused.

"Ah, how nice of you to tune back in with the rest of the class, Alice," he said dryly. I felt my face heat up viciously and looked down at my copy of Macbeth, hating my life, this godforsaken play and every single member of my class as they turned to stare at me. I hated being told off. I knew it was kind of stupid – it definitely wasn't going to kill me – but there was something about being the centre of attention that made intense anxiety ball up horribly in my stomach.

"In fact, since you seem to be having trouble staying awake, would you please read the part of Macbeth for us in the next scene?"

I stuck my jaw out, staring mulishly into Mr Brandrick's watery brown eyes. And to think, I usually tried to be nice to him. Honestly I couldn't really understand why he had this job in the first place – he had all the passion for words written by dead dudes necessary for English, but he was missing what I considered to be rather vital components of the whole actual teaching part. Like, for example, even the tiniest shred of ambivalence towards children. Just small things like that.

"Yes, Sir," I forced out, and then miserably started stumbling over Shakespearean words as best I could. The thing was; I probably could have stood the punishment if I'd really done something to deserve it, but this time it seriously wasn't my fault. I hadn't slept well at all last night, to the point that my dad had taken one look at me shuffling into the kitchen this morning and gone "yikes Vlad, who let you out of your coffin?", and I felt – strained. On edge. Like I was forgetting something very important and just had to keep stretching that little bit further to bring it back. Was it really any surprise that Macbeth hadn't been enough to combat all of that?

When I reached the end of my section I slumped down in my chair and steadfastly didn't look at anyone. Which was fine – they weren't interested in me anymore. The band of boys on the back row who usually ended up scoring themselves detentions this period had broken with tradition and managed to score themselves the roles of the witches instead. Currently, they were kicking at each other under the tables and speaking in high, shrieky voices whilst trying not to giggle.

"All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, thane of Glamis!" Nick opined throatily, before shoving a fist into his mouth and elbowing Gary.

"Psst," Kai hissed, nudging me with her shoulder. "It's not like you to fall asleep at school. Are you feeling okay?"

I sighed and rubbed my eyes harshly, fighting back another yawn. Christ. The first thing I was going to do when I got home was nap.

"Yeah, I'm just tired," I muttered back, keeping an eye on Mr Brandrick. "Felt like something kept waking me up last night."

"Like what?"

I was still trying to think of what to tell her when the bell rung a minute later, and as I stuffed my things back into my bag, I reflected on what I could actually remember. There was a definite memory in there of being cold, gross and sweaty. I could also remember a distinct feeling of being sad, more intensely than I should have been if it had all only been because of a bad dream. But everything else was just blurry. I wanted to say that there was a voice of some sort, but that didn't mean much if I couldn't remember what it had been saying. The harsh niggling feeling of missing something came back again, stronger than before.

"Ugh," I grunted out eventually, following Kai down the corridor.

She grinned at me, her soft brown eyes amused. "You're very eloquent today, I'm impressed."

"Sorry...I don't even know what's wrong anymore; I just want to go home."

Kai looked at me critically, before a grimace stole over her face. It was a look very few people could induce on her, and I groaned as its probable cause came to mind.

"Don't tell me," I forced out mournfully. "We got 'volunteered' to clean up the art classrooms after school again, didn't we?"

"Bingo, I'm sorry dude. If you don't show Mrs Macintosh is gonna hunt you down," Kai said, then patted my arm and gestured towards the school courtyard, a mass of grey concrete broken up by a few tired patches of green grass. "But come on, today can't be all bad. One step at a time, Al."

As we passed through the open doorway I eyed the angry grey clouds gathering above us and bit my lip. Somehow, I couldn't quite believe her.

True to form the day had continued to suck, and to top off a truly craptastic Monday, it was now raining heavily as I trudged towards my little brother Steve's nursery, my usually wild curly hair plastered down flat against my skull. I couldn't force my irritation back this time – normally I carried an umbrella everywhere, but I'd been so distracted after last night that I'd totally forgotten it on the one day I needed it the most. Freaking typical, was what it was.

Shivering, I kept my head low, trying to shield my eyes from the rain. The weather was already making it difficult to see, but the sky held an unnatural darkness that was making me nervous. When all this was coupled with a stinging wind it was all I could do to walk straight, let alone keep a proper grip on where I was going.

It seemed apt that after so much going wrong already, fate only needed a little push for everything to go from bad to truly appalling.

Behind me there were echoing shrieks and shouts as a group of younger kids barrelled along the street in an effort to get out of the rain. I heard them pounding up the pavement, cursing to myself as I tried to move out of their way. It wasn't enough.

"LOOK OUT!"

I turned my head just as someone's foot caught my ankle, meeting a kid's large startled eyes as we collided. My feet slid out sharply from under me on the wet pavement, flying off the curb, sending me sprawling into the gritty road. I landed face down, the air driving forcefully from my lungs, and for a moment all I could do was lie there, coughing fitfully as every part of my body stung.

The next second, tires squealed. Automatically my hands came down, pushing me up in time to get blinded by a pair of headlights. It was hydroplaning out of control on the puddles, my brain supplied helpfully in the numb instance between awareness and the impact. It was going to hit me, and there was nothing either I or the driver could do to stop it. The image of it all seared horrifically into my brain – the terrible imprint of the driver through the windshield, their arms straining as they tried to stop; the kids reaching towards me from the roadside, their faces ghastly and illuminated; the sensation of grit and blood under my fingernails.

I'm going to die.

The impact was distant, somehow, like I wasn't present in my own body any more. Objectively I knew that I was twisting and turning through the air, but I couldn't feel it. I knew that a scream had ripped itself from somewhere deep inside me, could hear it, even. But I hadn't told my throat to do anything at all.

Then I hit the ground and there was nothing but pain. For a few dreadful seconds I whirled with it, my vision fizzling out as every nerve in my body came online in synchronized agony. I didn't know where I was, who I was, couldn't even breathe past the hideous burn.

There were hands on my face. Close by, people were screaming. I tried to join in, but I couldn't find the sound. I tried to move but I couldn't find the strength. Heavily, I blinked past the still-falling rain, feeling my thoughts drain dizzily away in the face of so much pain. I tried to stem the tide, to grasp at them, but it was like trying to catch smoke. At the last of it I was left with the lingering image of my tiny little brother; the way his blue eyes, an identical mirror of my own, would light up as he saw me coming to pick him up on my way home. There was time to think of how I wouldn't be there at the gate today, wouldn't swing Stevie up onto my hip, wouldn't feel his little hands grasping at my hair. How I was going to hurt him.

Then that anchor too was ripped away, and I was left with nothing to stop me from falling into the great chasm of darkness that seemed to tunnel before my open eyes.

A branch cracked near my head, the sharp sound breaking the membrane of unconsciousness suffocating me. A rattling gasp clawed its way out of my chest. What had happened to me? I lay still for a long moment, my body unnaturally heavy as I cast around desperately for any memories lurking inside my head. The last thing I could remember was leaving the art classrooms...then it all came flooding back to me and I sat up with a start, only to collapse again when I caught sight of my surroundings.

Holy Mary mother of God.

Woodland stretched as far as my eyes could see, casting strange dark shapes as it melted into shadow. Where the hell was I? I couldn't be anywhere near home – I lived in London. We didn't have forests. My whole body was still throbbing and pulsing like a giant bruise due to the freaking car, but in the face of possible abduction I still struggled upright.

And coming onto that; what sort of maniac mowed down a teenager and ditched them in the middle of the fucking woods? What could anyone possibly stand to gain from that?

A lot, I was about to learn. Especially if they might not actually have left yet. I really had to stop underestimating fate – they were shaping up to be a real bitch, because apparently the worst day of my life hadn't quite reached its crescendo yet. Of course not, because, you know, the car just wasn't enough.

I had just about clawed my way into an upright position, hunched over with pain and misery, when something cold and incredibly sharp pressed up against my naked throat. My eyes rolled downwards to stare at a long line of metal as a rough hand twisted itself into my blonde hair. If I hadn't known any better I would have said it was a sword...but that was impossible, right?

"Turn around," A rough voice sounded right next to my ear. The rank smell of old sweat and leather washed over me. Someone's stubble scratched the side of my face; the sensations of hot breath ghosting over my cheeks making me cringe away from the oppressive presence. My bubble had been well and truly invaded.

Considering my situation, I didn't have a choice but to obey Mr Bubble Buster. Shaking and feeling rather sick, I twisted and met a pair of stormy grey eyes. The rest of the man's face was hard, cruel. He did not look happy to see me. Beyond him I could see more men, each of them wielding a crossbow, which sadly wasn't even the strangest thing about them. They looked like something straight out of a medieval faire, decked out in chainmail and steel helmets. The man currently threatening my life was in a matching uniform, but his was slightly finer, and instead of holding a crossbow, I found I hadn't gone mad and was indeed hyperventilating against the thin edge of his sword.

I mean, why not? If my life was gonna go to hell in a hand basket, why not in some absurd, impossible, utterly health-damaging episode of insanity? I'd already lost all sense of composure – may as well go the whole hog and lose my head as well.

"Who are you?" I didn't like the sound of his voice any better the second time I heard it, but scrambled to try and find my voice from wherever it had been scared off to. Better to talk than be skewered. "Speak quickly!"

"I'm A-Alice. Alice Mosely," I choked out, my eyes glued to the sword still pressing into my windpipe. If he pressed that any harder...

"Well, Alice, state your business. What does any being of Narnia have in our lands?"

I blinked in startled confusion. Narnia? I'd never heard of a place called that in all my sixteen years of living. I had to hand it to whoever had ditched me here - they'd done a spectacular job.

"W – Where?"

The man sent a meaningful look towards his men, who silently began loading their crossbows. The bad feeling in my stomach went right past nausea into full blown 'I'm gonna vomit right now immediately'.

"Don't play games with me, girl. Were you sent? Where do you hail from?" He reached in and grabbed the front of my blouse. "If you wish to see the next sunrise I would start talking."

"I'm from London," I blurted frantically, practically vibrating with terror as no recognition registered on the man's cold face. He let go of me and stepped back into the circle that had formed around me. His fingers started to creep upwards in the signal to fire. "I'm not lying to you, I swear! Look, I got hit b-by a car and now I might not even be in England anymore and –"

The man froze, his hand carving out a quick, abortive motion. "England, you say? England as in Spare Oom?"

I nodded mutely. Couldn't have told you what the heck Spare Oom was supposed to be, but the sword was dropping from my throat and I would probably have told him I was a Chihuahua if he'd asked in that moment.

A smile slid onto the man's face as his hand went down, but it wasn't at all pleasant. No – instead of looking at me like I was something to be broken, he was now appraising me like I was a precious bird he had just trapped in a cage. Like I was his.

The same gloved hand that had nearly sentenced me to death now reached out to enclose my wrist. Somehow, it felt like a shackle. He kept grinning at me with that unnerving expression until a sharp shiver trickled down my spine.

"Well then. Welcome to the country of Kírvona, Alice."