Chapter 10-Courage

And yet, life went on. Thor and Canisp found their way back to the home pack (or rather, Thor found his way back with Canisp stumbling blindly in his wake) just after daybreak. Not even Ignavus had the heart to punish them for leaving without permission; the whole pack had heard Canisp' cries.

Canisp's forehead hurt.

She walked slowly over to where Jenga, Firebird and Mercury lay. The three wolves were watching her anxiously; as if she were made of glass and they were afraid she might shatter. Canisp felt a dim pang of guilt at the worry in their faces. She could only imagine how worried her family must have been last night.

Belatedly, she realized that the Wolves weren't alone. A Faun with neatly trimmed reddish-brown fur and a tan sweater, her uncombed chestnut hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, knelt between Jenga and Mercury, watching Canisp with concern. Govinia had heard her friend's lament.

Wordlessly, the Faun passed Canisp a low wooden bowl filled with pink-tinged, sparkling liquid. Then she got to her feet, paused for a moment to stroke Canisp's head, and strode determinedly away.

Canisp mindlessly drank the potion. Even though the liquid itself was cold, she felt a gentle warming sensation flow through her body. Feeling returned, almost painfully, to toes she hadn't realized were numb. Her aching forehead was muted. A spark seemed to go off in her brain, heightening her senses and dispelling some of the dull mindlessness. Looking around, she saw Govinia arguing animatedly with one of the dominants. His name was Aram, and for a dominant he was a downright decent wolf, devoted to his mate and family. He looked at Canisp with concern, and then turned back to Govinia. He seemed to be apologizing. She pleaded. He glanced around at the other dominants, and seemed to give in. She smiled gratefully and returned to the wolves.

"What was that all about?" asked Jenga. Govinia spoke quietly in her ear.

"The dominants will never go for it," Jenga warned.

"It's all been cleared," Govinia assured her. Turning to Canisp, she said gently, "Come on, Canisp. You're coming to my place for a little while."

Canisp didn't ask anything. Tiny things like this didn't seem important right now. She followed Govinia to her cave.

That day always seemed like a blur. It blended together—warm fire, soft cushions, poinsettia tea, blankets tucked around her and little Tumnus hopping around like a mountain goat, skipping happily at his mother's heels. When he spoke to Canisp, however, he was very quiet, almost calm. He didn't know what was wrong, of course—he was just over a year old, after all. But he knew the "bird puppy" was sad, and his mummy had told him that she had lost someone very special to her. He patted her head and said sweetly, "Don't be sad, puppy. Here, you can have some of my cake." He had proceeded to split a small tea cake with her. Then the little Faun cuddled close to Canisp, petting her neck and singing little songs until he fell asleep.

Canisp was safe, and warm, and more comfortable than she had been in years, but she couldn't enjoy it. It wasn't simply because of grief; she wasn't really sure what it was. Everything seemed distant to her, like a dream.

That night, Typhis read Tumnus a story from a large red book called Men, Monks, and Gamekeepers: A Study in Popular Legend. It was a favorite of Canisp's: it told the story of the strange creature named Brandy who had grown the great Lamp-Post, and the legendary Gold and Silver Trees of old.

"Brandy," he said dramaically, "was of a race called the Neevils. They came to Narnia on the First Day, from a strange land where there were no Talking Beasts or Waking Trees or any trees at all. It was made all of stone and inhabited by only dumb beasts and other Neevils."

"Where'd they go, dad?" Tumnus asked, awestruck, and Typhis, smiling, continued the tale.

But even though Typhis told the story exceptionally well, Canisp couldn't get involved in it. As grateful as she was to Govinia and her family, she suddenly wished she could leave.

The next day was worse because it was better. Govinia and Typhis joked and laughed with one another, but when they spoke to Canisp they were gentle and tender. Only Tumnus was cheerful when he addressed her. He was playing with little wooden figures on the floor, and when he saw the "puppy" watching him, he began to tell her all about his little game. He made no sense whatsoever, but Canisp found his lighthearted chatter immensely comforting. Eventually, however, Govinia put him down for his daily nap.

"I hope he wasn't bothering you," she said softly. "He doesn't understand, you know."

"I don't mind," said Canisp. "Govinia…How long am I staying here?" She didn't want to sound ungrateful, but it was a question that had been bothering her.

Govinia smiled sadly and said, "As long as you need to. You can go back when you're…ready."

Canisp nodded, then curled up and went to sleep.

That night, Govinia was laying awake, thinking about her friend, when she heard, quite clearly, the sound of the cave door opening slowly. Slipping out of bed, she stole silently into the front room, in time to see a bushy white tail disappearing out the door.

For a moment, Govinia assumed Canisp was simply taking a walk to clear her mind. Then she remembered Calliope. She had been the sister of Ophelia, the white wolf who had been taken by the Vereor last year. Calliope had desperately pleaded to take her sister's place and been denied.

Two days later, they had found her body at the foot of the Great Cataract, as broken as her heart.

Govinia hurried after Canisp. She stayed a good distance away, however. She wanted to make sure the changeling was safe, but if Canisp really was just taking a walk, she wouldn't welcome the audience.

Eventually, they reached the large clearing the home pack generally slept in. As Canisp reached the edge of the trees, she paused, taking a deep breath. Then, moving slowly so as not to wake anyone, she made her way over to where her family was sleeping. She lay down carefully beside Thor, her face turned toward the stars.

At that moment, Govinia understood. She could see it in her friend's eyes as she gazed at the sky. Canisp didn't want special treatment, and she certainly didn't want pity. She wanted the wind at her back and the sun on her wings and solid earth beneath her paws.

Suddenly, Govinia knew, without knowing how she knew it, that the constellation Canisp was watching was the Centaur: the symbol of courage.

Govinia smiled, and turned to go home.

Canisp was going to be all right.

A/N: Short? Yes. It's the deep breath before the plunge.