The shock of Alexa's death shook the army. She had taken it upon herself to meet each of them, and had helped them out or chatted with them or amused them all week, and as such had created an imprint in each and every one of their hearts. Unsurprisingly, the Pevensie's took it the hardest – Peter did not speak a word to anyone, but locked himself in Alexa – well, Caspian's – room, and nothing was heard from him. Edmund barely spoke, but he blamed himself to anyone who would listen. Lucy was in floods of tears for hours when she first found out. It seemed that the truth had not yet sunk in for Caspian. He retired to his room, where Susan joined him, and they cried a little and talked, and discussed the likelihood of her return. After all, no one had actually seen Alexa die. She had disappeared, but no one doubted that if she was found lurking around the castle she would have been instantly killed. Though no one but Caspian and Susan discussed it, each and every soul begged that there had been a mistake. Though many, many others had died, no one could quite believe that she went down without a fight, and a little candle of hope burned inside each mind as the events of the next day unfurled.
Miraz' army had been seen marching towards the How, in great numbers and with giant machines of war. The remaining Gryphon's were on vigilance, constantly flitting back and forth across the forest. A meeting was held in the Stone Table room. Trumpkin and Reepicheep appeared to have taken the places of their leaders, standing in temporarily for the Kings and Prince Caspian. Though they were present, neither Peter, nor Caspian, nor Edmund took part in the meeting. Peter sat on the floor, back to the column, eyes glazed and puffy. Edmund stared at the figure of Aslan carved on the wall, eyes narrowed in concentration. Caspian paced back and forth, listening to the conversation but making no contribution. At last, a plan was formed – Lucy would go to find Aslan, whilst Peter duelled Miraz. Though it was a long shot, Aslan was the only chance they had left. When asked if he would be capable of fighting, Peter simply nodded once, very slightly. With one hand, his fingers played with a line of golden dust that coated the ground. In the other, he held a thick piece of fabric, all he had left of her.
The time had come. Miraz' army had gathered across the battlefield. The plans were set. As they pulled their armour on and gathered their weapons, the Narnians engulfed themselves in goodbyes. Though they hoped there was still a chance, they knew that this may very well be the last time they ever saw one another.
Peter still had not spoken as he and the others stepped out into the bright sunlight to assess the situation. Earlier in the afternoon, Edmund, Glenstorm and Wimbleweather had sent Miraz the invitation to duel, and he had accepted. Now as the two boys crossed the field to the duelling court, Peter talked for the first time.
"Ed.. what do you think happens back home, if you die here?"
Edmund saw not only hurt but also hope in his eyes, and shot him a dirty glance.
"Don't be stupid. Miraz is old; he has no chance. If you don't believe you'll win, then you wont."
Peter smirked, which was not at all the reaction Edmund had expected. "What?"
"You sounded just like Ale.. I mean, her, for a second then."
They shared a look for a few seconds, then Peter broke his gaze as they got to the edge of the duelling arena. Miraz strolled across the last few metres, behind him struggled one of the lords dragging what looked like a sack along the ground behind him-
A collective gasp came from the surrounding Narnians as a bruised, bloodied arm fell out of the sack.
An arm with a silver charm bracelet not fro, this time. An arm they all knew to be Alexas.