I am so cruel. Building up expectation that I would get back to our little group of travelers. And then introducing a "scorecard chapter".

The truth is, it gave me time to put the finishing touches in this chpt.

There's a scene from the Harry Potter book and movie, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Albus Dumbldore is before the Pensieve, drawing thoughts from his head with his wand in little strings of luminous matter

That's how it is for me to draw forth my writing. A few words--a few images appear. I write them down, or record them on my cell phone--or even--if my digital camera is with me--using the movie mode to record my thoughts on.

And if that doesn't get the stares--some nut case talking to his camera. I shrug and say, "It's a Dictaphone."

And then the rest has to be drawn out--like removing a sliver from a finger--or trying to coax the cat down from the tree--or the toddler to go to bed--you parents--you know what I mean.

C.S. Lewis had to get into the head of the Devil to write The Screwtape Letters. He didn't like it one bit. And I had to get into the head of the Traitor to make him sound convincing.

That's what profilers do. Get into the heads of the criminal offenders. And as St. Paul says, "…We are not ignorant of (Satan's) devices. " (2 Corinthians 2:11) Or as a contemporary version reads: "We know what goes on in his mind."

There are two Voices in the world today. Many issues confront humanity. The sanctity of life and the experimentation with living tissue--not just animal, but human as well. Human trafficking. The sex trade. Personal liberty as opposed to political and religious oppression. Pollution. Ecomonic exlploitation. Poverty.

Issues confront us personally, also. Addictive substances. Addictive behavior. Marital faithfulness. Integrity with time and money. Even simple things like honesty.

One Voice tells us to cater to ourselves. We are the ultimate arbiter of our opinions and our values. Another Voice tells us that we are not the King of our lives--that the good things we have--our brains, our looks, our good lives--aren't because we're All That. If we have, we need to share with those who have not. And if we have not, we're not automatically entitled to have by any means necessary.

If we look at the evidence for the existence of God--like the order found in Nature, and people's good side--we have to also be honest and say that there's evidence for the other viewpoint, the disorder in the Nature, and the evil in people's hearts and the world. A British scientist has written a few books about the "God-delusion". He considers belief in God a virus that must be removed from the world--like it was smallpox or AIDS. I know his name--and many of you do, too.

Am I saying that all atheists are bad? Nope. And that's part of the problem. It doesn't help when those who claim to believe in God behave worse than those who claim not to. I know lots of good people who are sociable and trustworthy, who don't care much about the Man Upstairs, who I would sooner trust when I need a favor. They appear to listen to the good Voice with greater clarity. And that's a mystery beyond my understanding. That's why we are told not to judge--we can't see in a person's heart. And that is why He requires faith--reason will take us only so far. And from there we must choose weather nor not to believe.

Whoever would come to God must believe that He exists, and rewards those who earnestly seek Him. (Hebrews 11:!)

But I too have feet of clay. I too rationalize my failures to live up to a higher standard.

trecebo: did you catch your breather? We're about to go places.

CajunBear73: I wept when I saw that film. The Killing Fields. I shuddered when he stumbled into the pit of skeletons. I wept when they stepped on a land mine. And he was the only survivor. Even the child he had with him died in his arms.

At the Oscars, the actor, Hang S. Nor, hefted his statuette aloft and shouted out, "I thank God Buddha!" And you know what? I didn't even mind that he was mentioning the Buddhist god instead of the Christian One. Because he was so humble. Because, like Anne Frank--like Corrie ten Boom--like Pope John Paul II--like Alexander Solzhenitsyn--like Dith Pran himself--he had been to the camps. He was a sufferer.

In his book, it tells how Nor married while in captivity. His wife and their baby died in childbirth. Sorrow upon sorrow.

And he gave the credit for his Academy Award to a higher Power than himself.

Logan: is this update soon enough?

screaming phoenix: okay--I'll blame you. (Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon 2: "BIG SMILE--BIG SMILE--BIIIIIG SMILE!") Check--male gender. That statement of yours a few reviews ago: about Ron being on his way to learning the "care and feeding of Kim Possible". That statement rocks. It is sheer poetry. I am putting it on my profile as a tagline.

And let this grateful American lay aside his laptop for a moment to stand with his hand over his heart, in recognition of one who has served his country--you.

And yes--you guessed the identity of the classical Narnia character. Tumnus the faun.

Ninja Master: your praise warms my heart. Write a KP-LOTR crossover? Probably not. As it is, I'm spread as thin as butter on toast. Unless some magic med we haven't tried yet can break a lifetime of Glacially Slow work ethic.

Bobboky: dude--what do you do? Stare at the "Just In" FF-dot-net page? Because I was staring at the "Reviews" section like a nervous Broadway actor, and it was 20 minutes from the posting of my chpt to the posting of your review. And I humbly thank you--from "good" to "very very good".

In this chpt, I have retold a scene from The Magician's Nephew in greater detail. The final confrontation between Jadis and her sister.

Regarding the incident referred to in the story: the Lion changing the entire population of Calormen to non-Talking Animals for their wickedness. It is referred to in the Narnian Timeline, found, among other places, at Wikipedia. I have consulted several fan-sites around the 'Net. It is a matter of debate whether it means the human populace or the Talking Animal populace. I will be honest. It bothers me. I don't know what Lewis had in mind, apart from illustrating that the Almighty sometimes acts in judgement. Just like it bothers me that God had entire nations put to the sword in the Old Testament--man, woman, and child. Just like the concept of Hell. It's another one of those things that makes people reject Christianity. But I cannot just avoid the issue. It's sort of there for all to see. I must go with what the Good Book says: "As I live, says the Lord, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked." I have to cling to that.

I must also beg pardon once more. The next few chpt's will be another detour from Kim and Ron as we follow the tragic path of Athalia. Fear not. I will bring you all with me when Kim and Ron meet--the Lion.

Let me get embarrassingly personal. Some of you are at a place like Athalia. I wrote this with you in mind. I have been there--and am still there much of the time. Your heart screams out--yet you hear no voice in the night, either in your ear, or in your own heart

I suffer from depression. I have lost my marriage because, among other things, I am withdrawn--because I spent more time on my computer doing stuff like my stories. But my dearest, as we went to a movie together on the last night before I moved out, who affirmed her love for me still, urged me not to give up on my faith.

Don't give up. I'll be honest. I don't know why He's often silent--anymore than I understand all the suffering and evil in the world. But I know He speaks often enough to for me to keep from completely sliding into the abyss.

Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and you will find rest for your souls, for My yoke is easy, and My burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

All who the Father gives Me will come to Me; and whoever comes to Me I will in no way cast out. (John 6:38)

From Every Heart That Is Breaking by Twila Paris:

For the young abandoned husband / Left alone without a reason / For the pilgrim in the city where there is no home / For the son without a father / For his solitary mother / I have a message / He sees you. He knows you / He loves you ./ Every heart that is breaking tonight / Is the heart of a child that He holds in His sight / And Oh how He longs to hold in His arms / Every heart that is breaking tonight / For the precious, fallen daughter / For her devastated father / For the prodigal who's dying in a strange new way / For the patriot with no country / I have a message / He sees you. He knows you / He loves you.

Enough with the preaching. On with the story. Pardon this candid moment.

Kim and Ron by Disney. Narnia by Lewis. Athalia and the name of Jadis's sister by me.

Vaya con Dios, my readers.

THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT

chpt. 10

the Birch Girl--her love and her treason

Kim and Ron slept in their bedrolls between Melandra and Sinewyn, the two Leopards. One would remain awake while the other dozed.

On the other side of the camp, Kalderion Goldenmane, the huge Centaur, stood sentinel.

The Dwarves, Rimduffle and Turnskillet, slept by the fire.

Athalia gazed up her Prince, Ronald, the Son of Adam, and upon her rival, the Daughter of Eve. The Dryad could feel her heart being pulled out by its roots. It was as though Kim had taken it in hand, just like snapping the branch off the sapling.

And they did not reprove her! She might have murdered a Dryad! And she is forgiven!

Between Kim and Ron was Kim's backpack.

There! In her satchel! The Book they kept talking about.

Athalia swallowed the lump in her throat. She lifted her hand. And with the abilities of a Dryad, she allowed slumber to settle on the Leopards.

The two seemed to sleep in snatches. First one, then the other, the green gleam of Sinewyn's eyes, then the blue gleam of Melandra's eyes showing against the spotted fur.

Melandra's eyelids felt so heavy. It felt hot. Humid. Like an August day. Filled with the buzz of insects. Just a small catnap--

Athaiia watched her yawn. Melandra's head began to dip and nod.

As silently as growing grass, Athalia crawled toward the book, her fingers and toes taking root in the ground as she inched toward the group.

A little root poked out of the ground under the backpack and pushed ir upright. Athalia extended her hand toward the backpack--and the Book--whatever it might be. If only she could read for herself, and quell her doubts.

And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, appeared a huge animal in front of her!

Athalia had seen a few lions in her lifetime, so she knew the look of one--but this--.

It was titanic, a magnificent creature. A large feline, like the Leopards, but with a full mane, and brown fur.

Athalia recoiled in terror. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. A scream escaped her lips before she covered her mouth with both hands.

The Lion shook His Head gravely and stared sternly at her--

--And Athalia jerked her head upright. She looked dazedly about. She was nowhere near the children, the backpack, or the Book.

She blinked. Was it only a dream--or a vision--or had it really happened?

The Dryad balled up her fists. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She choked back her sobs. Please! Why can't I see? I only want to put my doubts to rest!

Athalia heard a voice behind her in the bushes. It was him again..

"Birch Girl. Just as you cast fond glances upon the Son of Adam., the Daughter of Eve casts the evil eye upon you. The wicked intent of her heart is plain for all to see. Do you not wonder if she has some Dark Magic at work in her? Note how easily she escaped punishment for harming a Tree that you had just blessed."

Athalia whispered a curt reply without turning to look at the Speaker. "You mean as I have abilities inherent to being a Dryad? The little nagling endowed with the same unholy capabilities as the White Witch?" She felt a great weariness at having to listen to his constant prattle. She felt him to be such a nuisance. It was almost worse than Kimberly's constant prattle.

The Speaker chuckled. "What? Your faith remains firm? Even after the favoritism shown her by the Leopards?"

She glared at him. "My only faith is in my Prince, Sir! All others are suspect--including you!"

The Speaker chuckled quietly. "Good! Good! You are developing some resilience! Your bark is not so thin as a Human's. But you cannot deny the truth of what I told you about her true character. If she could, she would lay the axe to the trunk of your birch tree and chop it into kindling."

Athalia turned and looked the Speaker in the eye. "But what can I do? As you say--as the Leopards say--she is a Human--and Humans have been given the Lordship of the Realm--by the Lion's own decree."

The Speaker clucked his tongue. "You feel the unfairness of it. As I do. As many others in Narnia do. These mortals, who barely live a handful of decades, have been given the Thrones and the Crowns of the Kingdom. And noble folk like the spirits of the trees and river are assigned a servant's duties. I would not be surprised if the little snipe, once she was a Queen, would bid the dogs urinate on the trunk of your poor dead tree--just for spite."

Athalia sneered at him. "You weave a pretty speech, Sir--but my question remains--what can one such as I do?"

The Speaker leaned toward the Dryad. "There is one who will redress all these wrongs. Her Majesty the Queen, who is kind and generous to all her loyal followers."

Athalia recoiled in shock. "The Witch?"

"Shh. They will hear." admonished the Speaker. "Poor little birch girl. They have deceived you, the Leopards, and others like them. If the Lion were as mighty as they say, would some snow and ice bar His way? Or do you still seek comfort on old tales?"

Athalia trembled with a nameless dread. Once again her anger at Kim became a small thing. At stake was a larger issue. She tried to fight the awful doubt rearing up in her heart. "I have known the Lord Sinewyn all my life, sir--far longer than I have known you. It is a great leap from showing favoritism to the Little Priss to telling me a lie."

"But how will you know the truth from the lie if you have not heard sides of the story?" insisted the Speaker. "Consider. No parent would refrain from telling their cub about the dangers of the world. Tell me which is wisest? To tickle a cub's ear with sweet lies about how safe the world is, or to warn the cub of the hazards to be found in every day of life? Better the cub should have a few cautionary fears in his heart than the face the world like a simpleton--and be eaten alive."

The Dryad was speechless. She could think of nothing to confute what he was telling her.

The Speaker pressed his point. "Are you ready to hear a different story, Athalia, Daughter of the Birch? One that has not been prepared for you, like a thin gruel for a Human Cub? Are you ready for raw food?"

Athalia steeled herself. If hearing this will help my Prince--then I will endure it. "Tell me your story, my fellow Narnian," she said simply.

On her home world, they called her Jadis the Just--Jadis the Gentle. She came to her sister Kandis.

"Dear younger sister, it is appointed by custom that the eldest should rule. But I have not yet found a spouse, to share the throne. I wish to do right by you. Let us divide the realm. Choose what portion you will. And if Heaven decrees that you find a husband before me, I will abdicate, and retire to some quiet place to live and tend a garden."

But Kandis was poisoned by ambition. She tried to assassinate her elder sister.

Jadis escaped. Each sister summoned those loyal to her side. And the war--the last war--began.

Her sister's armies laid waste to their world. Not a soul escaped. Father, mother, child. Even the animals. Livestock. House pets. Untamed animals. All things that went about on wing, foot, or fin. And--mark this--all things that grew by seed or root. All things green and leafy, that bore fruit and flower. The sky by day was filled with black roiling smoke. The sky by night was lit by fires that spread from one seacoast to another. And when it was done, all the proud forests were reduced to cinder and ash.

Athalia turned pale. She felt faint and sick. "Where--." She swallowed convulsively. "Where--did you hear this story?"

"As you now hear it. When I was younger, with a heart full of zeal for my Narnian heritage. And I reacted as you react--with loathing and disbelief. But when I began to inquire diligently after these things--and I found that others had heard the story, also."

Athalia felt like a trapped animal. She now wished she had never joined the expedition. She wished she had remained in the grove that was her home, a few days travel to the east.

"I know how you feel, my friend," said the Speaker. "I examined my closely held beliefs. And I could not reconcile them with my new-found awareness. For instance--if the Lady Jadis were really the ravening destroyer of her world we are told she is--would the Lion--Blessed is He--have made her the executor of His Deep Magic? For that is her Mandate--as the legends teach us. The blood of every traitor belongs to her--or else the Land will be overturned in fire and water."

Athalia tried to collect her thoughts. "But--the horrible slaughter--the Solstice Conquest--"

+--The fulfillment of her Mandate, little Dryad--purging the Land of evil."

"--But--so many--such wholesale death was dealt out--surely all were not traitors--"

"And is that any different from the Lion executing judgment on an entire empire? Transforming an entire empire of inhabitants into dumb Beasts? The innocent with the guilty? That too is a sign of His displeasure--when Talking Animals are deprived of their power to speak."

Athalia tried to stem the rising panic in her heart. It was true. She knew the story as well as anyone else in the Land. In the third century after the Creation of the World, the Lion had transformed the entire populace of Calormen to brute animals. But she had never heard from this perspective. She grasped at straws to try and argue--both against her fellow Narnian and her own doubts. "But the Winter--Father Christmas shut out--the children denied--"

"A great struggle ensues, Birch Girl. Two parties strive for mastery in the world. The innocent suffer with the guilty. That is often the way of real life. And even now, fresh arrivals from the World of Adam and Eve come--like these two we escort to the Land of Refuge. Some with hearts of goodness--and some with hearts of wickedness. Some destined for rulership--and some for downfall. You know the old saying--a bad tree produces bad fruit. Which of our two arrivals would you rather see inherit the mantle? Think well, Daughter of the Birch. You saw how Kimberly. broke the living branch of a young sapling. What do you think she will do when she wins the throne?"

Athalia tried one last argument. "But--the Deplorable Word--"

"Another lie! It was a Spell of Preservation! The noble Lady Jadis cast what was left of Charn into sleep! Their life was held in suspended animation, until such time--by the mercies of Heaven--that a powerful wizard should awaken the Queen. And together, they would set about to heal and reclaim their world. But it was not to be. When that time came, there was only one living thing that could be revived. The Queen. She left her world in grief, never to return."

Athalia's heart was in turmoil. She could barely remember the time before the Winter had begun. She could had grown up hearing the stories of the Children of Adam and Eve. Polly Plummer. Digory Kirke. Andrew Ketterly. Frank and Helen Cobbleton. And the Child of Lilth, Jadis. "What should I do?"

"If you wish to help your Prince--you must go to someone who has power to give that help."

"The White Witch?" asked Athalia, her voice laden with skepticism.

The voice spoke in an even lower tone. "You still do not believe. Very well. Listen to the story of the men of Archenland."

It was a short story the Speaker told her.

And it made Athalia turn white as ivory. It made her quake with a ghastly anxiety.

"You have heard all," the Speaker said. "I have put before you the proofs--which anyone with discernment can recognize. You can no longer delay. You must now decide. I would not blame you if you were to run away--if there were any safe place.. Or you might simply become tree-ish--like those Dryads who grow weary of life. But I think you are concerned for your Prince. They will reach the Land of Refuge in only a few days. And after that--your Prince will be beyond your help."

And he left her.

Athalia sat alone in the woods--utterly alone. She knew the prophecies.

When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone

Sits at Cair Paravel in throne

The evil time will be over and done

When the Winter is old

And hearts grow cold

Two shall come, never apart

Of two minds, but of one heart

She had grown up hearing them. To think she might meet the two--in her lifetime.

And to fall in love--with a Son of Adam. At first it had tingled her down to her toes. She was as giddy as a faun on Midsummer's Eve She would be the envy of every Dryad in her grove!

But the Daughter of Eve. What a cruel little hag. Spiteful! Malicious! Overbearing! Odious little creature--!.

But words failed to describe how hateful the Princess Kimberly was. Words failed to describe the hurt of her Prince spurning her.

And words failed to describe the devastation of her faith. How in a few days her world had been turned on its head.

She thought about what her fellow Narnian had told her. When she pictured the Lion now, it was not the compassionate Guardian of the Wood--but a ravening Devourer--like the fearful specter of her vision when she tried to reach for the Book. She covered her face with her hands. A sob escaped her lips. "Please--please--show me!"

No answer came, either to her heart or her ears as a result of her desperate whispered prayer. The silence was complete.

Athalia stared at the full moon. If she were a Human, she might kill herself. Stories were told of pagans or the Calormenes who took poison, or fell on their own sword to avoid capture, or even jumped into cremation fires in grief at the death of a spouse.

But a Dryad? The only way was to become like a tree. To simply take root and fall asleep. Blissfully unaware.

The face she saw in the moon stopped her. The round chin and big ears. The rude bangs and dancing eyes. Her Prince.

She must seek help for him. Plainly the Lion had rebuffed her. As had the Leopards and Kimberly. The only road left was the one pointed out to her. A fearful road.

Forgive me, my Ronald, my Prince--my Beloved. I do this for you, and for no other reason. And if the Lion, Blessed is He, indeed is--if He really exists--if He is Whom we think He is--may He forgive me. May my fellow Narnians forgive me. But I must do what my heart leads me to do.

And as the Daughter of the Birch became like the pollen in the breeze, she glanced back at the sleeping Son of Adam.

Farewell, Prince of my heart. May you dwell long in your Tree-House. May you meet one like unto your Fearless Ferret among the Talking Animals of Narnia. When you become King, remember to treat them with kindness, and protect them--as the Lion charged King Frank to do--as your Fearless Ferret would do. And when you see a birch sapling in the woods, small and alone--think of me.

I love you.

Kim and Ron were asleep, nestled between Melandra and Sinweyn.

There was a rustle of little feet in the dry leaves of the ground. Both Leopards turned. It was Freya, the small Fae. She was not flying. That in itself was disconcerting. She bore a look of deadly concern on her face.

"Sinewyn," whispered, Freya, "Are the children asleep? I have news. There is something I must tell you--"

"Yes, little Freya," said Sinewyn expectantly. "Tell me."

The little Fae hesitated. "It will not be to your liking. It is the most tragic--." And she began to weep.

"Freya?" Sinewyn was now alarmed. He rose up. "Walk with me."

They went a few yards away from Melandra, Kim, and Ron. "Now, Freya--unburden yourself."

Freya leaned against Sinewyn's foreleg, and gulped out her message, trying not to be distraught. "My sister Fae, Safra, heard whispering in the bushes outside camp. It was about the Princess Kimberly and the Prince Ronald. She could not see who spoke. But a Dryad left the bushes. It was our Dryad, our companion, Athalia, Daughter of the Birch. We both followed her, fearful of some treachery--." Freya became frantic. " --Oh, Sinewyn--let the judgment of the Lion fall upon me and my sisters for our wicked neglect! We did not think to see which of your party spoke to the Dryad!"

Melandra sensed something ominous. She too rose up and joined her consort, casting her eyes back on the two children.

"Peace, Freya," comforted Sinewyn. "I know the intents of your hearts are true.. Now what makes you thing that there was treachery afoot?"

Freya took a deep breath. "Because we followed the Dryad as far as we could before she became as the breeze and faded from view. In that intangible form, she can travel as fast as thought. Our little wings could not keep apace, even if we could perceive her path. But the direction in which she journeyed--."

"What is it, Freya?" asked Sinewyn, dreading the answer. "You must tell me."

She pointed. "The direction was the to the east--and slightly north."

"That is the direction of the Lantern Waste," said Melandra. "But slightly north--." She frowned. "I am sorry, my dears. I do not know direction very well."

"I do," said Sinewyn grimly. "Beyond the Lantern--slightly to the north--beyond the two hills--beside the tributary of the River--."

Melandra gasped. "--Is her house--the house of the White Witch!"

It was like the bell stroke of doom. No one could speak for a moment.

"Freya," said Sinewyn, with deadly quiet, "Return to your sister. Say nothing further to anyone of this matter."

Freya bowed. "Yes, my Lord Sinewyn."

"And, Freya?"

Freya looked up with the eyes of a condemned prisoner.

"Do not revile yourself for what you think is your failure. Treachery is a weapon of the enemy--one we can never wield. But from now on, our vigilance must be redoubled."

"Yes, my Lord Sinewyn," she said morosely.

The two Leopards were alone--and out of the range of hearing of the rest of the group.

"My love--you know what this means," said Melandra quietly.

"I do. There is a traitor among us. And worst, a conspiracy. Athalia was jealous of Kimberly. And someone has used that jealousy and manipulated her Our plans will be revealed to Jadis." He shook his head. "By the Lion's Mane, it makes me furious! These are the works of the Witch! Envy! Hatred! Betrayal! That she should grow so strong as to turn Narnian hearts, and we so weak that we cannot resist the temptation!"

Melandra spoke hesitantly. "Could it be--I hardly dare mention it--Kalderion?"

Sinewyn glared fiercely. "It would explain much. I knew he always held a grudge toward the Archenlanders for what happened to his family--but to hold this much hostility--toward all humans--and these little ones. My love--."

"Dear Consort?"

"We have run out of time--and luck. I will let the Children sleep a little longer. But we must waken them in a few hours."

"Sinewyn! The poor dears will be exhausted!"

"I know. It cannot be helped. Even with the two of us, they are as unsafe. We are two against the rest. If the traitor were one--or even both--of the Dwarves, we could manage. But the Centaur? And we can no longer assume the loyalty of any of those who travel with us. If the traitor lured Athalia, he--whoever he is--could lure others."

Dismay shown in Melandra's eyes. "May the Lion guide us on our journey."

Sinewyn looked hard at her. "Dearest--if the worst happens--if we are ambushed-- we must be wary. Whoever of our party is the traitor will probably show his hand. It could be Kalderion. It could be one of the sons of Grimble. We could be assailed at our flank as well as our face. At all costs we must defend the children. One of us must hold the attacker--or attackers--at bay, and the other must take the Children to the Land of Refuge."

Melandra stared alarmed at Sinewyn. "My love! I cannot abandon you!"

"You must!" whispered Sinewyn tersely. And--may the Lion, Blessed is He, forgive me--and may you also forgive me--I also must be prepared to do the same if you are the one who must hold back any assailants. This mission must not fail, if the Thrones of Cair Paravel are ever to be filled! Our King has placed His faith in us. One or the other of us must see Kimberly and Ronald to journey's end. Promise me!"

"Sinewyn--my love!" pleaded Melandra. "Please! Do not ask--!"

"Melandra! Heart of my heart! Companion! Love of my life! In the Name of the Lion! Promise me!" he whispered fiercely.

She nodded, subdued.

He sighed. "it is well. Now come. Let us take our rest with the Children. I will watch while you sleep, and then you will watch. We will spend our last hours with these little ones, whom I love as though they were our own cubs."

And with heavy hearts, they walked back to the encampment.

to be continued

And soon, we will learn of the tale of the Archenlanders, that caused Athalia so much terror.