Chapter 16
(Rose POV)
Ahead stretches a rough little path winding down from the right side of Harfang on to the City Ruinous. It's the best luck we've yet had.
Unfortunately, that tiny spit of path leads us right to the wide road leading to the main gate. And nearly fifty windows stare at our backs as we scurry along, all beget in our colorful finery with not a speck of cover among the flat stones and frost-bitten pebbles covering the land between our feet and the City Ruinous.
"Nice bits of color you are," mutters Puddleglum. For once, I agree with him completely. "Show up very prettily on a winter day," he continues. "The worst archer in the world couldn't miss either of you if you were in range. And talking of archers, we'll be right sorry not to have our own bows before long, I shouldn't wonder."
"Yes, Puddleglum," Caspian sighs. I bite my tongue on the admission that Puddleglum couldn't be more right.
But the Marshwiggle seems to have no need of my support. He turns to a shivering Jill, nonplussed with Caspian's implied shushing. "Bit thin, those clothes of yours, are they?"
"Yes, I'm freezing already," manages Jill through chattering teeth.
I walk closer, wrap my arm around her slim shoulders, and tuck her against my side. To any peeking Giant, we may yet hope to appear as a frolicksome group out on an afternoon stroll, and I the mothering figure the Giants would prefer themselves to be.
The wind is bitterly harsh out here on the snowy plains. The icy blade cuts right through this flimsy dress and cloak, but the worst bit is the shoes. These flats are little more than vibrant bits of cloth wound around the foot – pretty enough, but so thin-soled that soon my soles are far too cold to notice the constant press of pebbles and rocks beneath my feet.
Caspian is the most stoic of us all, more even than Puddleglum, but it's only because of that damnable lunch. He wears that guilt like the thickest winter blanket, unshakeable and oppressively stiff.
Perhaps I should loop arms, try to lift his spirits with a show of camaraderie. But just as I step closer, the faint echo of a hunting horn sounds from up the hill. My limbs freeze, and in those precious few moments before I remind my legs to keep walking, to keep up the appearance – however rapidly waning – of a quick afternoon stroll, I realize how the hunted hare must feel. My heart hammers a new rhythm deep in my chest, my pulse echoing deep in my belly. Every hair and nerve seems suddenly alight with the knowledge that several dozen pairs of hungry eyes are trained directly on me.
"Steady, steady," says Caspian. "Don't run even now. We may elude them yet."
It's a terrible business – Jill is all a-tremble at my side, though who's to say if from cold or fear, but it is soon over in the worst way possible.
A great clamor of hollers echoes our way, sending poor Jill into a dreadful start.
Jill's mistake is looking back. Her already wide eyes have no more room to bug out, so it's her eyebrows that do the talking as they shoot up and disappear beneath her bangs. But either by force of will or the force of Puddleglum's hand steady on her forearm, she doesn't run as she surely must need to. My own legs tremble from the effort of keeping a calm pace.
Suddenly, it's all over. A great clamor of Giant voices rises up from our left, and then the shouts follow.
"They've seen us," says Puddleglum. "Run!"
The cold air bites into my lungs as I heave in great breaths, running for my life with these four most unlikely of companions. Jill and I are at the rear of the pack, thanks to the ridiculously cumbersome skirts we've both been saddled with. Caspian falls back, just enough to grasp one of our hands in each of his and tear onward.
The pebbles bite into my feet as the blood circulates anew, alive with the horrible reality of the pursuit.
"After them, after them," cries the King, "or we'll have no man-pies tomorrow!"
No, they shall not, but the city lies so far ahead still, and already running pains are stabbing through my chest, shortening my breaths until the clouds from my mouth are half the size of Caspian's.
"Almost there," he says.
Jill stumbles, yelping as she slips on a loose stone. With a huff and a tug from Caspian, she's right back on track, spitting hair from her mouth. But then it's Caspian's turn to slide as we start the mad scrabble up the stony slope that, at last, will take us into the city. Jill wobbles, but I grit my teeth and heave, heave, heave until they've both righted themselves enough to carry on.
The barks and snaps of the hounds split through the air. They're too close, and we're too slow.
Puddleglum reaches the top first. He glances right, and without warning darts into a little crevice at the bottom of the first step. Eustace has only just flung himself onto his belly to shimmy in when a bay startles my legs into an ever more frantic pace. But the dawning dread on Caspian's face and the terror on Jill's speak the truth – we're not fast enough.
Caspian's grip loosens, slides from my hand up to my bicep, and suddenly it's gone and I've covered twice my usual ground in single bound. Jill is only steps from the crevice now. As she crawls inside, her scarlet cloak fans out behind her like a spreading pool of blood.
I glance back, and there is Caspian, still ten paces away with the lead hound closing on his heels. For a moment, everything stops and there is only the cold grip of fear that Caspian will die before he can find his son.
"Caspian!" No sooner has his name left my lips than I realize the small sheath at my waist is empty and my dagger is whistling through the air. It thuds into the hound's chest, a horrid death blow. The poor thing's whine cuts my ears, but then long thin fingers close around my ankle and yank.
I go sprawling, but in moments the dark swallows me and Puddleglum's grip releases my leg. Caspian's head blots out the pale afternoon light for terrifyingly long moments as the bays of the other hounds echo nearby. Almost, almost, there! Caspian tumbles inside in nearly a full summersault, right into my waiting arms.
"You fool, you could have died!" I cry, gripping his shoulders tight enough to bruise.
"Quick, quick, stones. Fill up the opening," comes Puddleglum's voice from the inky darkness beside us. The dim grey light from the opening is hardly enough to see by, but the other three are hard at work already, piling up the biggest stones they can manage in the opening. Caspian rights himself and throws himself at the work, just as my sense returns and I seize the largest stone I can lift. I'll call him ten kinds of fool later, when those hounds have a thick layer of stone and rock between their noses and the Giants' would-be feast.
Just as the baying and yelping reaches a crescendo, the last of the light blots out, engulfing us all in the questionable comfort of darkness.
"Farther in, quick," comes Puddleglum's voice.
"Let's all hold hands," says Jill. It's a good idea, but it takes several long minutes of scrabbling and grabbing around in the dark before I find her tiny hand in one of mine and Caspian's in my other. By then, the whuffling of the hounds at the other side of the stones is too loud for comfort.
"I do believe we can stand up." Caspian's shoulder brushes mine as he tries, and it's not so difficult to straighten my own legs with him pulling me up.
Loose stones rattle underfoot as we shuffle away from the hounds' noses and deeper into the tunnel. I can't tell where Eustace and Puddleglum are, but with Caspian ahead of me and Jill behind me, it stands to reason that the other two are up ahead. And surely Puddleglum be leading the way, however ill-advised that may be.
After barely a few steps we stop suddenly, only to turn a bit to the right and continue on. But before long, the same happens again, and again. We carry on through all manner of twists and turns, each one sending desperate itches down my fingers. In the utter darkness, I wish I could let the light ribbon from my faeries free. Would it be so bad if I did?
Puddleglum leads us around wall after wall, and another and another and another until I have no sense of where we are in the hill or which way leads back to the hole we climbed in through. We may be lost forever in this maze.
Is this how I'm to meet my end? Lost in some forgotten tunnels deep under a ruined city with little hope of finding the sunlight again?
No, I can't start thinking like that. I can't give up yet. Not when Darin's star waits for me back in Tanssi Kuun. I have to survive, get back to what remains of him.
I have to get back to the faeries, too. Secure that second key to our world, and lock it away forever. Never again will I put them at risk. There will only be one keeper of the keys.
Impatience burns hot under my skin. Pinpricks dance through my fingers, leaving clammy sweat in their wake as Puddleglum starts up another morose evaluation of our circumstances. My patience snaps, and a moment later the pouch at my waist flies open.
"Here, Puddleglum, let me – "
"Ow, let go! Save yourselves! I'm – " A great cacophony of rushing stones and gravel cuts him off, just as the ribbon of light springs free and illuminates the edge of a monstrous hill that descends into blackness, far beyond the light's reach. If there is a bottom, I can't see it in the precious moments before I go sprawling out after the boys, and Jill hot on my heels.
Curses split from my lips as I tumble faster and faster down the deadly slope, sweeping an avalanche of debris with me. Jill's pile of rubbish pummels me relentlessly, sending sharp pebbles and bits of rock singing into my skin and tearing my dress. The slope seems to grow ever steeper, until I'm flying down almost vertical even though the gravel is sharp against every inch of my back. Surely we'll all be broken to bits at the bottom, if ever we find it.
Just when the crescendo of rubble drowns out the swearing of the boys further down the slope, it all halts. I can't fathom how long or how far we fell, but now I'm up to my chin in detritus and moving about to free myself seems quite out of the realm of possibility. Sticky heat clings to my shoulder and the side of my face, but the wounds don't seem too bad – only scrapes, aggravated to bleeding more than necessary by the length of the fall.
My ribbon is gone, and all around is nothing but choking darkness, silence, and the insistent scratch of dust heavy in my throat. For a brief moment, I can't hear any of the others, not even Eustace or Jill. But before the wondering panic of if I'm truly alone here at the bottom of the world can set in, stones shift and rustle and shaky voices echo in the black.
"I say, is anyone else still alive? In horrible condition after that fall, I shouldn't wonder. Broken bones aplenty, haven't you?" Ah, there's Puddleglum. Gravel swishes as he talks; he must be up to his chin too.
"I'm alright," comes the wobbly voice of Jill, just off to my right.
"Me too," says Eustace. "Nothing broken, though I've little idea how. Lucky sods, we are."
"That's a word for it," I grumble. My voice tightens around a cough, but the rocks press in on my chest enough I can't get enough of a breath to spew the dust from my lungs.
"But we won't be getting back up that way." At last, Caspian. "But we are, at least, well and truly under the City Ruinous now."
An unexpected and wholly inappropriate laugh bubbles up from my lips and slips free before I can swallow it down. "That," I manage," we certainly are." Well and truly under indeed! We must be a full mile beneath the ground, perhaps more. We've tumbled far enough that the air is warm. We're deep enough that the heat from the heart of the world itself must be seeping upwards. If there were light, it could be a heady summer's day in Narnia, though perhaps a stuffy one.
No one else finds the same mirth in our situation, but that's simply to be expected. Perhaps I've gone half mad. The mad shuffle and rush of debris echoes around us; apparently, everyone else has had enough of being buried among the detritus. I shove my elbows into the gravel, but try as I might, I can't seem to get up. It'll take two pairs of hands at least to dig through this; I can barely wiggle any submerged part of me.
"I'm free!" comes the triumphant cry of Jill. "Say something, won't you? I can help."
"As can I," says Caspian not half a moment later. "Eustace, Puddleglum, Rose?"
"Over here," I huff, struggling to push my voice loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of shifting stones. Unsteady footsteps head my way, sending a small wave of rubble washing over my scrabbling arms.
"Most helpful," I grunt. Caspian's right hand finds mine under the new layer of stones and pulls my arm free at least.
"I say, Pole, watch your step!" yelps Eustace. "I'll need those fingers!"
"Oh hush up! Don't you want a helping hand?" Poor Jill sounds very close to tears. Her sniffle is nearly buried under the ruckus of digging Eustace out, but not quite.
Caspian locks his left hand around mine, and pulls until my arms strain in their sockets.
"No digging then?" I wheeze a bit as my nails dig into his arms. His grip, however well-intentioned, will surely leave bruises in the precise shape of his fingers come dawn.
Oh. We're not likely to see a dawn for…well, for quite some time. Certainly a few days at least.
Slowly, Caspian's strength hauls me up from the debris. He adjusts his grip to my underarms when most of my torso is free, and then – with a final long pull – I'm out.
"Thanks." I find my feet in the pebbles; though I sink halfway up my calves, there's enough support that I don't sink any further.
"Ow! Have a speck of patience, would you?" cries Jill.
"That's my hand there you scratched, Pole!"
I step in the direction of their squabbling. Though I lurch at the unsteady ground, Caspian's grip on my elbow keeps me upright.
"Perhaps you'd best find Puddleglum," he offers. "I'll manage these two."
I start to nod before I remember the utter darkness cloaking us all. I can no more see my own two hands than he can see any facial cues I could give. "Good idea." Starting off on my own without his solidity beside me leaves me disoriented, but oddly enough the stones tight around my calves help me maintain my footing. "Puddleglum?"
There comes another burst of cacophony, and then the Marshwiggle's mournful tones float through the darkness. "Over here. Not that we've much hope of getting me out. Much worse things further down even if we do, I shouldn't wonder."
I don't doubt his outlook, but I have the good sense to keep my agreement to myself. The children may be preoccupied with digging out Eustace, but even that noise won't entirely drown me out. So I settle for wordlessly shoveling handfuls of sharp pebbles away from the Marshwiggle until he's free. Working alone renders the project rather mindless. In far less time than I thought, there's enough freedom for Puddleglum to wiggle about. With a few good heaves, he's free to make more admittedly warrented pronouncements from our precarious seats on this endless slope.
At last, we're all free from the rock. Though it seems of marginal use; we all sit down, our bottoms sinking into the loose gravel. At least, that's what I do. I assume from the shifting stones around me that the others have done the same. Silence falls between us, thicker than the darkness cloaking everything. Sweat beads my upper lip and sticks my thin dress to my back.
It's a long and lonely time at the foot of the slope. The only sounds to break the stillness are the gentle puffs of our breathing and the occasional rattle of disturbed rocks when one of us shifts. We can't stay here forever, sitting catatonic and dusty and sweaty, but for now it's good to rest.
Without warning, there comes a dark and flat sort of voice from the blackness. "What brings you here, creatures of Overland?"
I leap to my feet, but the ground shifts and I slide down on sharp pebbles again, but the descent this time is the work of seconds. One of the children – I can't tell which – thumps into my back.
"Who's there?" I call, Caspian's own inquiry moments behind mine. The children and Puddleglum shout over each other, asking the same, so the whole question from five mouths becomes unintelligible.
"I am the Warden of the Marches of Underland," comes the dim reply, "and with me stand a hundred Earthmen in arms. Tell me quickly, who are you and what is your errand in the Deep Realm?"
Earthmen? Have I heard of such creatures before? My feet find the ground at last, through the fading shoreline of detritus. No traces of magic that I can find, but something about these creatures feels familiar.
"We fell down, Sir," Jill answers quietly. "Quite on accident."
"Many fall down, and few return to the sunlit lands," says the Warden. "Make ready now to come with me to the Queen of the Deep Realm."
All lands need a queen. The snake's mockery from so long ago echoes in my ears. I do not feel its presence here, but I'm restless even still. Something is wrong about this.
"The Queen?" asks Eustace with no small amount of caution. He's learned well. "What does she want with us?"
"I do not know," says the Warden. "Her will is not to be questioned but to be obeyed."
His words stink of enchantments. If I had not lost my ribbon up at the crest of this impossibly long hill, would it have showed me anything? Would it know if these Earthmen are slaves as the earth goblins were?
A crackle, and then a grayish-blue light brightens the cavern, illuminating the Warden and the hundred followers he spoke of. These are strange creatures, not like the goblins at all. These are bare-footed humanoids with sad eyes, pale skin, and overlarge feet and heads. Their brows and noses droop strangely, as if their faces thought to melt but froze before their features could slide off completely. The Earthmen are widely varied in shape and size – some are taller than Caspian by a good bit, and some are shorter than Jill's shoulders – but all wear the same forlorn look of melted candlewax.
"Get up," says the Warden. Shadows from his wavery torch casting dark shadows under his nose, chin, and brow. His eyes are so deep-set they seem to disappear into the darkness.
In a final clattering of stone, the five of us clamor to our feet. The others, like I surely must be, are covered in dust, scrapes, and bruises, but no one seems truly injured beyond the surface. The greatest casualty of our fall is likely our Harfang clothes – none of us have escaped without several unsightly rips, though thankfully our modesty is intact.
"March," says the Warden. His company of a hundred Earthmen holding thin but sharp pitchforks stare us down, and so march we do.
The Warden's pale globe-shaped torch illuminates the large cavern we've slid into, with a knobby ceiling and a smooth stone floor that slopes downward as far as the eye can see. As we march, the ceiling slopes down to meet us as the walls close in. In hardly any time at all, the cave is so narrow that Caspian and I have to angle ourselves to fit, while the walls brush the children's shoulders. Puddleglum, stick that he is, seems to be alright too. Jill, poor thing, seems to be losing color with every step.
Just when the tunnel is so narrow we all shuffle sideways against the stone, it opens up just enough to stand slightly hunched over. We stop, but the Warden lifts his torch and stands aside. Earthmen crouch down and start disappearing into a dark little crack, even smaller and less inviting than the one we crawled through to get here. Jill stops in her tracks and turns an even paler ashy gray.
"I can't go in there," she gasps. "I can't, I can't, I won't!"
Silently, the remaining Earthmen lower their pitchforks and aim the tips straight for her heart.
Seeing her fear stirs the compassion still left in my heart. "Come on, Jill," I say, taking her hand. "Just close your eyes and follow me. You'll be alright."
"No, oh, you don't understand," she wails, her sweaty hand slipping in mine. "I simply can't!"
Eustace nudges her with a barely sympathetic shoulder. "Think how I felt on that cliff, Pole," he says.
"It's sure to get bigger on, else those larger fellows wouldn't be going in. Go on now, Jill." Caspian supplies the calm I was seeking.
I try one last time, ignoring the prick of an Earthman's fork at the back of my neck. "Here, I'll go first. Grab my ankles, Jill, come on."
Jill still shakes like a newborn filly, but in spite of the new clamminess on her palms, she wobbles a nod. As soon as my head and shoulders disappear into the crack, her hands lock around my ankles in a vice grip far stronger than I thought any child could have. She nearly cuts the blood supply to my toes, but I say nothing. We'll both be out soon enough.
Crawling through the crack is stifling, dirty business. It's such a narrow space that I have no choice but so get all the way flat on my face and scoot along, spitting the dust and pebbles from my teeth when my head has enough clearance to keep my lips from brushing the earth constantly. No doubt it feels much longer than it is, but it could be an hour in that crack and I wouldn't be surprised.
It's nothing short of sweet, knee-buckling relief when we emerge into a much larger cave. I end up greeting the new scenery with my palms, as Jill is apparently still determined to grip my ankles with the force of a viper. Thankfully, the moment the cooler air hits her nose, she lets go and shoves herself free, landing on a heap on top of me. Wonderful; another mouthful of dirt.
"I'm sorry," she whispers unsteadily.
"It's alright." I grimace, but I help her up just as Eustace and Caspian come through, Puddleglum close behind. Jill is shaking and sweaty and dirt-streaked, but she composes herself rather well by the time all five of us stand reunited in the cavern.
It's so large it can hardly be called a cavern; the ceiling is so far up it disappears into shadow. The cave is dimly lit beyond the Warden's torch from some natural light I simply must figure out. The Warden shakes the strange torch until it goes out, for we have no need of it here. The thick moss underfoot is not glowing, though it provides a wonderful cushion to our walk. But the strange, tree-like shapes growing up from the earth seem to be giving off the dim, pale illumination from their thin trunks and, to a lesser extent, their flimsy branches.
My steps slow as much as they can without drawing the Earthmen's tridents and spears. The light here reminds me, just a little, of Tanssi Kuun under the stars. If only I hadn't lost that ribbon at the top of the hill. Where is it now? Vanished? Or traveling the depths of the earth, just like us? Can it find the way home, or will it be stuck below the City Ruinous until the end of time? My attempts to call it to me have born no fruit. The loss sticks heavy beneath my breastbone, another loss to carry with me.
Further into the cave lie scaly creatures that could be dragons if you believe in the old tales. Some of the smallest ones look more akin to bats. My heart thumps in my chest as we pass by, but they don't stir. If they're breathing, it's too shallowly to detect.
"Do they grow here?" asks Eustace. What kind of question… grow here? Dragons aren't trees last I checked.
The Warden's brow wrinkles, like he'd be raising his eyebrows if he had any. Perhaps he's surprised any of us had the courage to break the thick quiet, but he goes back to his droopy face quickly. "No," comes the monotone answer. "They are all beasts that have found their way down by chasms and caves, out of Overland and into the Deep Realm. Many come down, and few return to the sunlit lands. It is said that they will wake at the end of the world."
Silence descends again, broken only by the soft shush of our footfalls on the moss. The cushion is so thick that even Caspian's boots barely make a peep.
The cave drags on for what must be miles; we walk for hours beneath a ceiling that never comes into view. Silence lays thick around us, sticking any conversation attempts firmly in our throats. This place is beautiful, but the weight of all that earth above me feels impossibly heavy. I can't decide if it's worse seeing a rocky roof over our heads or having it shrouded in darkness.
We reach a rock wall with a small arched opening, so much like some of the Telmarine castle's doorways that the sight is just barely comforting. Though I have little love for anything in Telmara, this piece of my secondary home brings some measure of relief here in the gloom, so far from everything I've known.
Jill has little trouble with this passageway; though she skitters through on nervous feet, she doesn't hold up the line.
We emerge into another smaller cave awash in a strange, silvery light. Something about this place alights every nerve in my body, even though the light has a similar glow to Tanssi Kuun's moon. But this place does not feel like home. Perhaps that is thanks to the huge man laying inside, taking up nearly the whole cavern with his body and his loose robes. His beard trails across our pathway to the other side, wispy and white at the ends but full and kind around his face. His chest rises and falls in perfect rhythm, unlike the staccato rhythms of the beasts in the previous cave. The longer I look at him, the more pure and innocent his wrinkled face looks.
"Who's that?" marvels Eustace. His gawking does hold up the line a little, but not enough to draw the threat of spears.
The Warden answers without looking back, his words dim from distance. "That is old Father Time, who was once a King in Overland," he says. "And now he has sunk down into the Deep Realm and lies dreaming of all the things that are done in the upper world. Many sink down, and few return to the sunlit lands. They say he will wake at the end of the world."
"The end of the world's bound to be a busy affair, then," mutters Eustace. I catch the flicker of a smile across Caspian's mouth before we trod on.
At the end of this cave we find another stone doorway and another cave, this time lit by a pale blue light and covered in dark ivy so black it seems to suck in the tentative light in the cave and swallow it. No one works up the nerve to speak, and in this cave there is nothing to speak of. It is empty and constantly sloping downhill just like the others, but no strange creatures lie around. In here, there is only ivy and fading light and the soft pat-pat-pat of Earthmen feet on the rocky ground. I'm glad to leave that cave behind.
Onward and onward we go, through cave after cave, door after door. Some caves are devoid of light entirely, leaving us no choice but to link hands and try to stay in line with the Earthmen. Some are lit in reds or pale yellows or timid greys, and one is choked in sickly green. My skin prickles with goosebumps as we pass through that cave. The heady stench of magic is strong there, and if I look at the walls just right, the scaly pattern on them seems to pulse and creep. But though I listen carefully, no rattle echoes back at me. I can't find it on the wall pattern either. And by that, only by that, can I convince myself that the cave is not a trap set by the snake. It's more likely a cruel trick designed to scare travelers.
But what travelers could she possibly be expecting?
Ice skitters up my spine and my legs hesitate. I stand in the shifting green light as still as a tree, even when Caspian's fingers brush the back of my hand and wrap around it to tug me onward. My feet obey, but my eyes can't focus. What if she's expecting us? Could this be a trap, just as Harfang was?
No, there's no guarantee she'd think we could find our way down here to the bowels of the world. More likely, she thinks we're safely cooking in the Giants' pie dishes. Perhaps this cave is just the mark of her magic, or the cave had magic already and she could not help leaving an echo of herself behind.
My ribbon might know. If only I hadn't lost it so carelessly.
A trident pokes into my back just as Caspian's grip tightens and pulls me forward, my feet rushing to catch up. I try to center myself, quiet my mind and reach out as the faeries taught me. But the witch's remnants flood my senses like thick smoke; I can't sense anything beyond it. I can't tell whether this place was her own doing or to what end.
Caspian's hand is warm and strong in mine, but his eyes reflect my own worry back as he guides me through the stone arch ahead of him.
More caves pass, all the rest perfectly normal, or what can be considered normal down here. One even has walls shot through with veins of precious metals. But always, always we travel downhill, until at last the Warden's flat voice breaks the gloom and the lantern crackles to life again. This cave is massive, a thousand times larger than even the dragon cave must have been. Before us lies a pale strip of sand and a still expanse of dark water, stretching as far as the eye can see. And on the sand waits a single boat, with many oars perched against the sides.
The Warden orders us inside and up to the bow. Though I have little love for rowing – and no experience of it either – the task would have been welcome to help pass the time.
"Has anyone from our world – Overland – ever done this trip before?" Caspian asks after we've finished settling ourselves. I suppose this is the old adventurer in him. He has a similar light in his eyes now as he did so many years ago when he first told me the wild tale of his voyage east.
The Warden's reply is predictable. "Many have taken the ship at the pale beaches, and – "
"Yes, yes," says Eustace. "And few return to the sunlit lands. We know."
I marvel that the boy found the courage to cut in at all, but these two children have been surprising stores of courage on this journey. They will need every bit of it to face this witch. And so will I.