Camp that night was a soggy affair, though Dasher and Aisling were granted the help of some Trees who bent themselves together for a shelter. It was a fine shelter for simpler purposes, perhaps to escape the sun on a summer's day, but on this night, in this weather, it served only to stave off the worst of the rain. It was still wet underneath the canopy of leaves, and there was no way Dasher or Aisling was going to light a fire unless they truly wanted to be bodily hauled away by a load of roots. All in all, it was going to be a perfectly miserable night and Dasher was still not unhappy.

He had the panflute out again. Aisling was sitting moodily on his right and a bit forward, staring out the entrance to their leafy cave and trying hard not to cry. It had always been a humiliating trait of hers that, whenever she was frustrated or made someone angry without meaning to, tears would start to form. The thought of I don't know what I'm doing kept entering her mind and wouldn't leave, and that only made her all the more upset.

After several minutes, Dasher stopped playing and began digging around in the packs for some supper, picking up singing the song where he'd left off.

"Aslan says you cannot earn what you have inside

He says you'll look a hundred years for what you cannot find

Aslan didn't scream it, he said it with a song

And he's never been known to be wrong."

"Eat," Dasher commanded, throwing a pack of field rations at her.

She let it fall. "I'm not hungry."

"Tough."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes and delved into the pack, then moodily bit at a strip of dried meat.

Dasher watched her carefully. "You're not giving up now, are you?"

She whipped around so fast she cracked her back. "Giving up? How dare you ask me a question like that!"

He put his hands up in surrender. "Fine, it was a question, not an attack." He slowly put his hands back down, keeping his eyes on her. "I just think you're putting too much of this on yourself."

"Shouldn't I?" she asked, surprising him. "I'm the Captain of the Guard, Dash, this is my responsibility."

"As it is mine."

"Yes, that's why I brought you."

"Well, you don't see me beating myself up about it, do you?" He raised a thick eyebrow. "Captain, every day you get angrier at no one but yourself. Exactly how useful is that?"

"It doesn't have to be useful, it's just what happens."

"Why?"

"I don't know!" she snapped. "Leave it be, Dash, there's nothing to be done about it."

He stared hard at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Well, I'm turning in. You should, too."

"Shan't."

"Tough."

. . .

The next day was possibly the worst yet for Aisling's mood.

They were headed to Waterlock, a much larger town than Puddlere in the Glass Water area. Because of its proximity to Archenland, Waterlock had a small concentration of Humans as well as Animals, meaning some things here would actually be to Aisling's and Dasher's scale.

It was honestly quite unfortunate for the Man in Black, then, for he happened to be in just the wrong place at just the wrong time. After hours of trekking down the road in wet, muddy clothes, in a heat that was not nearly as dry as she would have liked, Aisling had a raging headache and was boiling with fury for King Edmund, for rivers, and for any sort of thing that happened to annoy her. The Man in Black was the most perfect outlet imaginable.

She spotted him outside the tavern at Waterlock, and she spared no moment for thought. With a shouted, "YOU MISERABLE SON OF A HAG!" she swung her sword mightily at the offending creature.

He brought his own sword up so quickly she was momentarily taken aback, but the duel fell into full swing almost immediately. Animals of all sorts ran for cover as the fight took to the main road. Small carts wisely stopped or steered themselves away.

But then this, the first real encounter between Aisling and the Man in Black, caused her to realize something absolutely infuriating. The strikes, the technique... Every time he attacked, it was with all the force of an Elephant. With a wild yell, Aisling brought up her foot, kicked him in the chest so hard that he fell on his rear, then knelt upon him. She seized his hood, exposing dark eyes and a spray of freckles. "I knew it," she growled.

"Since when have you been able to beat me?" Edmund panted.

"What reason do you want first? Since you've been traveling alone for a week! Since I'm so angry I could fell a Minotaur! Or maybe it's since I've actually improved, as you seem disinclined to admit!"

He stared at her. "So which is it? Am I weak or have you improved?"

"I'm strongly in support of both at the moment!" She shoved herself off of him, stalking away.

Dasher lingered, reaching down for the king's hand. "Well fought, your highness."

"Is she very angry, then?" Edmund asked dryly as he stood.

"Many an oath has been uttered in your general direction, sire. It's been the most amusing camping trip I've ever been on," Dasher said pleasantly.

Edmund snorted. "Lion bless you, Dasher."

"Well, I do think the Lion has a bit more pressing matters, don't you, good my king?"

Edmund shook his head, patting the Faun on the shoulder, then left to follow his captain.

. . .

"How could you possibly think any of this was a good idea?" Aisling snapped over a mug of cool Glass Water beer.

"If I was recognized, it would have slowed my progress further," Edmund said, his hood pulled up to hide his face.

"Yes, dressing as Narnia's primary enemy always lent everyone an easier time!"

"They're the ones I was hiding from! I'd already been ambushed once."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't run off, you wouldn't have that problem."

He pointed a finger at her. "Listen here, Captain, it seemed like a good idea then, and it seems like a good idea now. Peter's my brother. He'd do anything for me, and I'd do anything for him."

She shook her head, sighing heavily, then leaned back in her chair. "You make my job a living nightmare, I hope you know that."

He almost smiled. "Well I do, good my captain. I know what your job entails you to do, and I'm sorry for getting in the way of that, but-"

"Sire, forgive my frank speech-"

"Ah, I get a warning this time."

"-but you don't understand," she hissed, all the more riled for his words. "King Edmund, I tried to explain it to you before, and you chose not to listen! I meant it when I said you weren't the only one concerned for the High King, and don't you dare think no one would have been concerned for you. This was never for my job. I did not traipse through the woods, wade in and out of the Great River four times, risk getting white cough, and drag my idiotic carcass halfway across Narnia because I get paid! And neither, for that matter, did Dasher."

The Faun, content to let Aisling take over the conversation, merely raised his tankard in recognition. Still, despite his calm expression, his eyes were steely. Edmund knew he would find no leeway there.

Then he asked the question he knew she wanted him to ask. "Why did you want to become our guard, Aisling?"

Her breathing was harsh and shaky, but she leaned back in an attempt to calm herself. "Because I love you, my king. All of you. When I was twelve years of age, the blessed year you and your family banished the Winter and took the thrones, a prince of my country was stolen away. It was said that he would help to save Narnia, and I suppose someone did not want that to happen. He has been missing for years and many have given up hope. Archenlanders, just as Narnians, love their kings. When I was fourteen, I thought about this, and I couldn't bear the thought of something horrid befalling one of you. That is why I wanted to join the guard."

King Edmund at least had the sense to look abashed. He glanced down at his plate of food but seemed to have no more interest in it. "I hope you believe me when I say I am sorry for the heartache I've caused. To you and anyone else."

She crossed her arms. "Sorry won't cover it, sire."

He blinked. "How do you mean?"

"I do accept your apology, sir, and I believe it is genuine. But I also know that in your heart of hearts you will not amend your ways. When next trouble befalls someone you love, you will instantly be at arms to rescue them. You are the king, sire, and you must learn to delegate."

"But what sort of king am I if I send other people on dangerous quests for my sake?"

"You'd hardly even have to ask, highness. Anyone would be glad to let themselves be harmed so you won't have to."

There was a flash of pain in his eyes and she knew he was remembering Aslan. If only the Great Lion were here to talk some sense into him.

"I believe we've all had a very exhausting day," Dasher said, breaking the silence. "Neither of you are going to win this argument, although, for what it's worth, sire, I understand your side, but I'm with the captain."

"This comes as little surprise, friend," Edmund said dryly.

"I suggest we all find a room and get some rest."

As it happened, due to the nasty brawl outside, the tavern keeper was unwilling to let them stay the night at the inn. This excluded Dasher, whom the keeper like very much, but the Faun decided friendship was worth more than a comfortable night's sleep, and so joined Edmund and Aisling in the barn out back.

As they were settling into the hay, Aisling paused and looked at the king. "Why did you run?"

He glanced up. "Sorry?"

"In the woods yesterday. I was ready to kill you, you know. If I'd had time to draw my bow, you would have been dead."

"Thank Aslan for small miracles."

"Why did you run?" she pressed.

He sighed and slumped into the hay. "I heard Lieutenant Dasher playing the panflute. I didn't know it was the lieutenant, I thought it was Lucy, so I doubled back. I saw it was you, and.…"

"Took off," she said, eyes starting to burn. She couldn't explain how offended she felt. Yes, she was angry, but that was more due to concern for his safety than anything else. She'd put so much effort into finding him, and then he'd simply refused to be found.

The king seemed to realize what he'd done and paled. "Captain, I'm sorry-"

"It's alright, you were thinking about your brother."

"Yes, I was, but that doesn't make it alright."

She looked at him. "You do realize that if you'd come to this conclusion days ago, we wouldn't have wasted all this time we could have used to find High King Peter."

That seemed to hurt him like nothing else, and she instantly regretted her words. Without another word, Edmund laid down on the hay and closed his eyes. Aisling looked to Dasher, and, to her relief, he gave a nod of agreement.

At least they'd found him. That much they could be proud of.