Chapter 9-Sacrifice

Meya struggled to her feet, her legs trembling. She had never been a fighting personality, but by the Lion, she wasn't going down like this. The chase had drained her, however; it was all she could do to stay on her feet. What was more, the exertion had put too much strain on the old Minotaur wound in her left shoulder. The muscle twinged painfully when she put weight on it, so she shifted. She appeared at a casual glance to be standing normally, but really she was supporting her weight on her good three legs. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak and helpless.

Which, of course, she was. She just didn't want to look it.

"We meet again," said the wolf that had first spotted Meya. Maugrim shot him a look, and the other wolf backed down immediately. Meya could clearly see the dynamics of the twisted pack. Ferinus, while technically the leader, was clearly just a figurehead. Maugrim was in charge. And he was not about to let anyone interrupt this moment of triumph.

"Now," said Maugrim, "I know you, of all people, will realize the futility of resistance. You know not to give me any more reasons to be angry, don't you? That's wisdom, Meya. Ophelia learned it the hard way last year." Meya shivered at the amusement in his voice. "Then again, feel free to follow in her footsteps—all three of them. After all, you won't really need all four legs where you're going." One of the Vereor wolves growled, and there was cruel pleasure in it.

Meya tensed and gave the barest hint of a snarl. She hadn't known Ophelia well, but she had known her. The lovely white wolf had had a mate and a family. But those things didn't matter to the Vereor.

At the sound of her growl, the huge gray wolves shifted forward eagerly. Their eyes were trained expectantly on Maugrim, reinforcing Meya's low opinion of Ferinus' authority. A shudder ran down Meya's spine, and she seemed to deflate. Her raised hackles lowered slowly, and the fight seemed to leave her altogether. "Come along, now," said Maugrim, almost kindly, and Meya raised her foot to step forward.

There was a sudden rushing sound, a flash of white, and something large and furry shot over her head, skidding slightly as it landed in the snow. Canisp backed up so that her tail brushed Meya's shoulder reassuringly, bared her teeth, and growled "You're not taking her."


Canisp snarled furiously, her eyes locked on Maugrim's—a direct challenge. "You touch her, you die." There was no hint of bluff on her face.

"How touching." Maugrim sounded bored, but his eyes were alight with pleasure. "But as you can see, there are…fifteen…seventeen of us, and one…one…well, one of you." He smiled and lowered his voice, dripping with satisfaction. "So get out of our way."

Canisp spread her front legs and planted herself more securely into a fighting stance. "You're not taking her," she repeated darkly.

Ferinus spoke for the first time. His voice was deep, but hoarse. "Will you be dying to try and stop us?"

There was complete silence in the clearing, apart from Meya's labored breathing. As had happened to her sister, Canisp's ferocity seemed to drain out of her as she glanced at the huge wolves on either side of her. Her head drooped.

For the first time in her life, Meya needed her, and there was nothing she could do.

Or was there?

She couldn't fight for her sister. That much was obvious. There was no way she could win.

But that didn't mean she couldn't save her.

A cold, hard knot of dread formed in her stomach, but she fought to ignore it. She had to do this. She had to be strong now, as brave as Meya fighting a Minotaur on her own, or afterwards, trudging halfway across Narnia on a broken leg.

She closed her eyes. "All right, Maugrim," she said quietly. "You win. It's what you've wanted all along, isn't it? Some way to force me to submit? Well, you've got it. Just leave Meya out of this. Your fight is with me."

Maugrim's eyes gleamed. He couldn't have looked more astonished—or more pleased-if the White Witch herself had crowned him Supreme Ruler of the Universe. "You're offering to take her place?"

Canisp kept her eyes trained on the ground. "Yes," she whispered.

A wide, cruel smile crept along his muzzle. "I knew you'd warm up to me. Shame, really, that you didn't make this decision two months ago. It would have been much more pleasant. For you, at least." Canisp couldn't hold back a shudder. "So, just to make it formal…" Maugrim was truly enjoying himself. "Will you take your friend's place and accompany the Secret Police back to the Palace without resistance?"

Canisp almost lost her nerve. She steeled herself, however, and opened her mouth to deliver her response.

"No."

Canisp looked around in shock.

"What?" said Maugrim and Canisp in unison.

"No," Meya repeated. She stood straight and tall, the picture of decision. She looked at Ferinus. "You take the first she-wolf you catch. That's the law. No releases. No substitutes. Otherwise you would have let Calliope take Ophelia's place."

Maugrim looked murderous. Meya felt a twinge of fear when she remembered that with the Vereor, that was a quite literal description. Ferinus, however, merely blinked slowly and said, "That is correct. It does not matter how much you want the other, Maugrim," he added, a bit of relish entering his voice. "We do not make exceptions. And we have spent enough time on this. Let us be gone, and the she-wolf with us."

Maugrim snarled, but obeyed. "Move, then, fool," he spat at Meya. She flinched and drew back as the Vereor converged on her.

"Meya!" hissed Canisp as the Wolves created a solid ring around the two. "What are you thinking?"

Meya looked her full in the face, ancient sadness in her eyes. "If our positions were reversed," she said quietly, "would you let me sacrifice myself for you?"

Canisp wanted to say yes. She wanted to with every fiber of her being, but she couldn't lie to Meya.

Meya could see this. She seemed about to say more, but the Vereor were growing impatient, shoving her roughly into the forest. She didn't fight them, but at the edge of the clearing she stopped short and said, "Canisp?"

The changeling looked up, terror in her eyes. Meya swallowed and said, "It takes real courage to sacrifice yourself for someone. But… sometimes it takes more to let someone sacrifice themselves for you." A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I never had your courage, Canisp," she choked. One of the Vereor rolled his eyes and nipped at her, and she turned away and disappeared into the trees.

Canisp stood frozen in the trees, feeling like she was being torn limb from limb. She struggled in vain to keep the pain at bay. She could do nothing to dispel the agony, nothing to escape it. She wanted to howl, to release some of the emotion that was threatening to rip her apart, but her lungs were empty and she wasn't sure how to fill them. She wanted to sink her teeth into something and rip it to pieces until she didn't feel quite so powerless, but her muscles seemed locked in place. She wanted to sob, but the agony was too great to be banished so easily.

Once, when she was five years old, she had wandered into a patch of wolfsbane. She had thought it the worst pain imaginable. She had been wrong.

No one could possibly survive this kind of pain, it would surely kill her, she had to get away

Struggling to suppress the scream building in her throat, she whirled around and shot through the trees. She ran as fast as she could, desperation giving her strength. Even when she reached gaps in the trees, she didn't fly. Flight may have brought its own sense of release, but it was too quiet in the air, too peaceful for her racing thoughts. She needed to run, to feel the steady burn in her lungs and legs, the solid earth beneath her flying paws.

But as fast as she ran, memories were faster. Meya, curling beside her, tucking her head trustingly beneath Canisp's wing; Meya nudging a piece of meat toward her, a gentle smile on her face; Meya, lying peacefully beside a small campfire that Canisp had made on one of those bitterly cold nights, quietly requesting songs as her dearest friend played the pipes; she had always loved the Fire Dance-

BANG.

Canisp staggered back, dazed. She had run into a Tree. "Watch it," the Dryad muttered. Canisp blinked and shook her head weakly, waiting for the world to stop tilting. When it did, she launched herself back into the forest.

The memories came more quickly now, perhaps jogged by the blow to the head. They were darker, as well; Meya, shaking with silent sobs, her head buried in Canisp's shoulder. "They almost got me," she whispered. "They almost got me." Meya, her fur matted with blood, her leg broken, asking if Firebird was all right; Meya, her face transformed by fear, whispering, "I never had your courage…"

But you did! Canisp felt like screaming. You had ten times my courage! It should have been me! How many times did I promise I would protect you? It should have been me!

Then Canisp stopped fighting. She let the memories wash over her, let the agony crush her, and let it all out in a tortured howl.

All that long night, she poured out her misery to the unfeeling stars, her cries shifting from low, mournful keening to barely audible whimpers to haunted cries of rage, searing howls that were more like screams of pain, and back again.

Sometime during the night, she became dimly aware that she was no longer alone. A dark shape sat at her left flank; for a moment, Canisp honestly thought it was the shadow of Death. Then she realized it was Thor.

She had no idea how long he had been there, sitting quietly beside her. He said nothing, made no move to comfort her, and she loved him for it. She thought there could be no truer sign of love than this, to simply be with her and let her mourn. If he had told her everything would be okay, or tried to reassure her, he would have made it worse (because it wasn't okay, it was so horribly far from okay, and nothing would ever be the same again…) But he did none of that. He was simply there, and that was enough.

Gradually, the sharp, ripping pain receded slightly, dimmed to a dull ache. Her screaming howls were few and far between. Eventually they faded altogether.

Thor stood up. For the first time, she noticed that his eyes were filled with tears. He moved in front of her, looking into her eyes, then nuzzled her gently and whispered, "I'm here."

Something broke inside Canisp, a final barrier came crashing down, and she sobbed wildly into his shoulder as the crescent moon began her slow descent into the Western Wild.

A/N: Oh, I'm sorry, did you want your souls? Oops.