Here is chapter 9, please enjoy!

Edmund had not been allowed to even be near his brother since their fight with the overseers had been stopped, but he knew Peter's eyes were on him as he lay on the ground. He turned his head to look at him, and saw the pained look on his older brothers face. He was worried. But Edmund had little time to try to communicate with him, for Hargeph returned, saying that the two of them were being summoned by the household.

Ashoti yanked Edmund up, his bruises and muscles screaming as confusion riddled his brain. He limped along, mostly leaning on the Calormene for support, Ashoti having to halfway drag him across the fields and over the creek, while Hargeph led the way for all four of them, keeping an eye on Peter.

Everything in Edmund ached and stung and he wanted so badly to just talk to his brother. But it wasn't allowed, though every time Edmund looked to him, Peter was staring right back, checking him over as best as he could, ever the big brother.

Edmund tried giving him a smile to show he was alright, but it was obvious he wasn't. In fact, he was genuinely concerned over what might have happened to him if Peter had not intervened. He thanked Aslan for bringing his brother to him at just the right time.

But now, Edmund's head was pounding so hard, so loudly against his skull from the punches he had received, that he barely noticed as they were led through the servants' side entrance into the Tarkhaan's home.

At first they passed by the bustling kitchen with sweet savory aromas drifting by, making all their stomachs growl. But as they progressed further into the home, they walked silently down halls and up stairs, with the smells of food turning into the strong spicy scent of burning incense. They found their way past large rooms all painted different colors, filled with richly weaved tapestries depicting numerous scenes of battles and lovers, but that held little of anything else. Oil paintings hung from the walls but there were suspiciously large open spaces that looked faded from where other frames once hung, but were now gone. They saw an open archway leading into a dining room with a single large table covered in sparse, but gaudy dining ware, with unlit stained glass lanterns that hung on large chains from the ceiling.

It all could have been attractive, but somehow appeared more gilded than anything.

None of that was surprising to Edmund, but what was surprising was how each room appeared more lightly furnished than the last. Edmund would have thought that a Tarkhaan as seemingly important as Oraleth would have a home that was covered in excess. It made Edmund wonder if not perhaps it was just that the home was so large that it gave off the feeling of emptiness. He thought of Cair Paravel and its larger, winding halls, vaulted ceilings, and wide rooms. None of it ever felt empty.

As the small group neared an open door in the rear of the home, a man's voice could be heard. Both Edmund and Peter recognized it as Tarkhaan Oraleth.

"I must go now, Mother. I have a meeting with our great council at the Tisroc's palace, may he live forever."

"What is it this time, my son?"

"It seems vessels from our nearest northern neighbor of Archenland have been crossing water boundaries without our permission in the Great Sea. General Khentei believes it suspicious. And we cannot be above such beliefs in times such as now." This made both Peter and Edmund look to one another, suspicions of their own now rising as Oraleth continued. "I will be back with swiftness, Tash allowing. And please, oh great mother of mine, see to having the girl made ready. I know you are not happy with my choice, but I believe it to be a wise decision and one prudent advisors would agree with. And she needs to be capable and ready as a woman should be. As much as I'd not give gifts to that blasted Shandeer, it will gain us favor with our betters. And she needs to be above reproach and able to do more than simply holding steady her trays. Have her made ready." The Tarkhaan finished, and turned towards the door, not giving his mother the chance to respond.

Oraleth exited just as Edmund and his group were coming upon the door. He didn't even stop, barley surveying the men in front of him, just huffing as the muscles in his jaw pulled tight. He looked agitated as he shook his head, clearly not having the time or energy for dealing with whatever matter he was having to see to with the girl he spoke of or the council.

Peter and Edmund were both made to bow, Hargeph and Ashoti doing likewise, as the Tarkhaan came and went, before being led through the door he exited out of.

It opened up onto a back veranda that looked out over one of the gardens. Two small, lush trees were growing in large, red clay pots, and had their leaves hanging low over a raised sitting area that looked as if it once held a small couch. But now in its place was a ramp and an older woman in a wicker wheel chair. Behind her and to the side, a tall, pretty Calormene girl stood waiting for direction.

The old woman's hair was as white as cotton and pulled back severely in a tight bun. Gold earrings with bright blinking rubies hung down low from her ears, causing her ear lobes to sag. She was adorned in a fine robe that seemed to swallow her smaller frame whole. It had intricate purple and green designs weaving in and out, and was with trimmed with gold.

The chair she sat in made it hard for her to sit up tall, but no one would know it. For her spine was ramrod straight. Her skin was pulled tight and thin across her sharp cheek bones but was wrinkled around her eyes, which were a vivid warm brown. They would have stood out against her tanned skin even if she didn't have the kohl ringing them in a thick black line like she did now. Her thin lips were pursed and colored a stark bright red, clearly stained with some kind of makeup.

She looked right passed the two men bringing them in and locked her eyes solely onto Edmund first, then Peter. The look she gave both the boys was a surveying one. But something in her gaze, in her expression, held more. A curiosity of sorts that Edmund found strange. She didn't look angry, or cruel, or even annoyed. Simply curious.

He tried to discern it but found himself lacking. It was odd to him to not be able to read anything at all about a person, he'd been growing rather perceptive. But the lady before them now seemed so guarded, so used to shrouding herself in uncertainty, that Edmund didn't have a clue about her or her intentions. Though he was certain they couldn't be good if she called them in there after he was fighting in the fields. Regardless, her ease at which she held herself together, making her altogether unreadable, made Edmund want to do the same. He forced the limp out of his footing as best as he could, and tried pulling his spine up straight. He winced immediately at the pain and from the popping in his hip, and fought miserably with his facial muscles to not display his agony.

It bothered him to no end that he was certain he was failing.

Peter looked to Edmund with concern, but was being held back by Hargeph putting a tight grip on his shoulder.

The lady before them looked at Edmund as he struggled and he felt the need to keep his eyes down to try to mask his pain more, but refused, holding the lady's gaze.

He presumed she was the Tarkheena of the house. He had heard some about her in his time here, especially since she would come and watch them work every day from the comfort of her litter. Edmund had listened as many of the men quietly cursed her under their breaths while they toiled in the fields, feeling the burden of her power over them.

Peter realized that he knew who she was too, or at least, he had seen her before. She was the woman he had seen in the garden with the girl who was hit for dropping fruit off a tray. And the girl who was hit was the very same one that stood behind the woman now.

Peter decided then he did not like the old lady. While she had not been the one who touched the girl, she hadn't stopped it, and even gave the girl a sharp look for her little mistake.

Edmund on the other hand was just as curious as the Tarkheena was, wanting to know why she watched the boring work he and the others do every day, and why she looked at him so oddly now.

"That will be all, Rineeda. Same for you Hargeph, Ashoti." The Tarkheena said in a voice that seemed stronger than she was.

Hargeph looked taken aback and a little disappointed. "With all due respect, Tarkheena, these slaves are not known for their obedience. I do not trust them alone with one as...wizened with years and stricken with such-"

"You call me old, do not call me feeble, too. I may be a friend of time but I am not unable to help myself. And I would not that you commit the same trespasses as these two by disobeying your masters." She looked at him unwavering, her brows arching.

"Of course, Tarkheena. I meant no offense. You are one that is respected and honored by Tash himself, and as such, me as well." The man said, looking towards the Tarkheena and waiting for her response.

When she didn't give one, Hargeph and Ashoti dipped their heads in an awkward bow and scurried from the room. Rineeda followed, never stopping, but slowing just enough to eye Peter and Edmund suspiciously.

When they were all gone, the great lady finally spoke to them.

"You're bleeding." She stated plainly to Edmund.

Edmund hesitated, then felt the sticky liquid slowly dripping from his nose. He lifted a finger to it, pulling it back to see his skin stained red.

"That is no way to present oneself in front of your highers." The Tarkheena spoke again.

Edmund let out an audible "Oh," before looking around, then settling on using the short sleeve of his shirt to wipe his upper lip clean of the blood. Then he sniffed long and loud, before blinking back up at the woman.

Peter suppressed a laugh, having to lower his head to hide his smile, while the Tarkheena merely sighed and rolled her eyes. His brother might be a king, but he was not to let on about that. And Peter knew that no matter what, Edmund was still a boy, and a teenager at that.

"Quite finished?" The Tarkheena asked, unamused.

Edmund nodded. "Yes, Mistress. My apologies."

"What are your names?" She said, moving on and looking between the boys.

"My name is Petryn," Peter said.

"And I am Edden." Edmund finished.

"And where are you from?"

The boys hesitated, fully aware of Oraleth's new suspicions of their 'home' country, but remembering Roblen's pleading with them to stick with their story. "We are from Archenland." Peter finally said for the both of them.

The lady seemed to mull over their answer for a moment before moving past it. "My name is Tarkheena Tullah, and my eldest son, Oraleth, is master of this house. He is a great man that has received bountiful praise and blessings poured upon his head from both Tash and the Tisroc, may he live forever. He is wise and firm and expects discipline and obedience from all, including his slaves. So, what I want to know is why you two have cause so much trouble today?"

Edmund hesitated, before answer, "It was not intentional, Tarkheena, I-I tried walking away, to get back to work as they told me to. If you were watching us from your litter, surely you must have seen, you must know..." Edmund felt his shoulders slump and his heart drop. He could be beaten just for speaking to her this way, for blaming those in charge of him. Not to mention that he'd conveniently left out the part about him laughing at the overseer. But he was tired of being blamed for others cruelty. It had seem he'd been chosen out of the lot to be the one who was the most hated by those who watched over them, and it was obvious to all who simply watched for a short amount of time. He hoped to Aslan that she saw that, that she knew, but her eyes were calculative and Edmund knew she saw how he already felt defeated.

"Tell me why you," She looked to Peter suddenly, "especially as you are old enough to already know the folly of standing against your greaters – would risk yourself to defend a small one such as this?"

Peter's face was all honesty and resolve. And despite the small pause he took before answering, Edmund knew that Peter would tell the Tarkheena the truth. For what it was worth, Edmund did try to get Peter to look at him, to read his expression that said it was probably best to not tell of their relation so as to not put Narnia's safety on the line in the least bit. But Peter either ignored him, choosing not to look in his direction, or really just didn't realize. But Edmund knew it didn't matter either way. Peter would not deny his own.

"He is my brother."

The severe eyes of the Tarkheena gave way to surprise, before quickly hiding behind her unreadable mask again. But one thin eyebrow did stay arched, turning to look back and forth between the boys. It was here that Edmund found the need to straighten himself completely again, despite the pain it put him through. He didn't know why, but he felt the Tarkheena appraising him, measuring him up, and there was something about her gaze that made him unable to shrink away. Like he needed to prove himself. He was so tired of being treated as nothing.

The Tarkheena, though she didn't say it, actually saw the resemblance between the boys once she knew to look for it. It wasn't direct or obvious. But the way the two stood, their mannerisms, their lilts when they spoke – even the looks they would give. It all matched, even if their hair and eyes didn't.

"I see. The two of you separated at the slave market, no doubt? Then, by the power of Tash, brought back together. Most would count that a blessing, but I heed you, do not go making assumptions about Tash's dealings before they are tested by time. He is not a merciful god. And what you care for can become a weakness, and slaves already have so many, they cannot afford any more."

Peter lifted his chin, not in a haughty way, but as one with resolve. "You may see him as such, but I do not. Even so, if my brother is to be a weakness of mine, then he is one I proudly bear." He stated, just as serious and strong as if he were standing before his own court in Cair Paravel.

Edmund simply stared at his big brother, almost gaping. He felt a relief so strong from Peter's words that it warmed him. He had missed him. More so than he had realized until now. It was such a strange and longed for feeling to have such affection be given to him in a place that lacked it so much. Peter sneaked him a glance that held a small smile before returning his attention to the Tarkheena.

The Tarkheena Tullah inspected Peter and Edmund both, taking them in again, trying to understand them. The two boys – both young and wounded – appeared nothing like the tired and weary souls that usually served her family. Sure, both boys were just as physically wilted, but the elder held the presence and air of one much older than himself, and the younger possessed a keen ability to strive forth, to endure and persist, which had been the reason she had taken any notice of him to begin with.

"I see you care for him, as any relation should," she said. "But even still, your kinship does not allow you to interrupt – and more so, fight – your overseers at any point, But especially when they are teaching a lesson. Your brother was said to have been disobeying." She said to Peter.

"My brother was being tormented by the men you employ because he, being already hurt, hungry, and weak, was not able to move at the pace that those overseers set, though they themselves have not done the work they force us to do. I do not doubt that if they did for even one day, that they would faint from the heat or exhaustion or whippings - if not all three. Notwithstanding, they are grown men while my brother is no more than fourteen years of age. Had they allowed him proper rest and healing, then I've no reason to believe that he would not be able to perform at the level they so cruelly insist." Peter paused before adding, "We are not pack mules, despite certain beliefs to the contrary."

Peter spoke as the King he is and it did not go unnoticed by the Tarkheena. Her mouth was pinched, though one side was pulled up suspiciously close to something that resembled a smile. But her eyes were as sharp as ever when she spoke, saying, "You are much too bold for one of your age and standing. Slaves do not speak such words against their masters. And if they do, they get the rod. But," she turned her head, eyes locking onto Edmund, "you are not wrong about your brother. He is one of resilience, a surprising much so for one of his age."

Edmund looked up to her, surprised, his mouth hanging slightly agape. She simply kept that pinched look that tugged at one side of her lips, as if halfway smiling, halfway judging. She went on.

"You may have noticed, young one, that my litter sits watching over the work you slaves do every day for an amount of time. And even if you haven't noticed that, you will notice this," For the first time, she lifted her hands, which had been hidden in the billows of her robe.

Her fists were gnarled, the knuckles swollen and uneven. Her fingers crossed over one another, twisting in a way that bones shouldn't. She shook them lightly for emphasis, before unwinding two fingers slowly and painfully. She then pinched her skirts between them and, shaking slightly, raised the hem of her garment just enough, showing her bare feet. They were turned inwards, swollen at the knuckles as well, with her toes curled, crossed, and stiffened.

"I wasn't always like this. But I can no longer get along like I used to. For years, this accursed disease has pained me. My hands and feet ache more everyday but still I can find no peace. By the gods, my family and I have searched far and wide for longer than you know, yet no doctor nor ailment can give me even the slightest of reliefs. It keeps me from everything – from the travels I so dearly loved in my youth, to even simply walking on my own. I can barely even lift a spoon to my mouth – not without pain and trembling. So, I have my servants move me around throughout the day to keep some kind of movement. To make it feel as if I can still keep the freedom I once had. I fight, every day, much like you." Here she finally did smile at Edmund, though it faded quickly as she finished. "I endure and persist in this spiteful heat, unable to go where I please and receiving pain that I do not know how I deserved. I bare it with pride and acceptance, as it was given me by my master, Tash himself."

Edmund had to pull his eyes off of her hands and feet and force himself to look her in the face. "I am sorry for your sufferings, Mistress." He said, unsure of what else to say. Though, truthfully, he meant it. It hurt him just looking at the twisted bones, like one could almost feel what she did. And by the way he must look, with his smaller frame, bloody clothes, bruises and limp, he wasn't too surprised to find that she felt a kindred spirit - a kind of fight or drive – in him that she felt herself.

"I noticed the first week that you were here, while watching from my litter, how much younger you were from the rest of those working in the fields. You stood out with your fair skin, yet dark hair, like one of those Barbarians from the North. But you walked with a limp. I watched as you toiled in the heat, doing work meant for men twice your size. I saw as you endured the whip and punishments for being slower than the rest. And I watched as every day you kept fighting, to not lose your strength. To hold tight onto the fire that burns inside you. I too, know what that feels like."

Edmund glanced at Peter before looking back to the Tarkheena. No wonder he couldn't read her. She had truly taken him off guard. "I-I just had to keep going. It wasn't anything special, I just had to keep on, to keep –"

"Strong? To not find yourself going mad from such sufferings?" She finished his sentence for him.

"Yes." He stated, surprised.

The Tarkheena Tullah nodded in understanding. "I have seen countless slaves come and go, going through the same toils as you. Some men, hardened and strong, have fallen and not gotten back up. But I have seen as you have stumbled in the heat and dirt, been kicked to the ground, yet still rose again. Our paths are very different, but you hold onto something that I do as well. A stubbornness, I suppose."

Edmund did not know how to respond still. He didn't feel he was anything special or different than anyone else out there working as a slave, but clearly this Tarkheena had thought so. "Thank you, Mistress, but I work no harder than any of the other men."

She looked at him slyly, and it all but infuriated Edmund that he couldn't seem to understand her. "You are forgetting, young one, that I have been watching you. While the work you do is no different, I have seen how you have been singled out by those overseeing you. Whether it be because of your age, your limp, your homeland, or simply because you kept getting back up. I admire that quality. And it is why I stopped those men today, that, and because I wanted to see who was the first person to ever defend you."

Edmund felt his shoulders slump again, but this time in relief that she had known that he was being treated so awfully - and she actually cared. He silently thanked Aslan before dipping his head to the side to look at his brother. The Tarkheena was right, Peter was the first person to ever help or defend him.

"My brother has always looked out for me." Edmund said, and he was could have laughed at the humble look on Peter's face. Edmund knew Peter would never see defending his family as something to be praised, because it was just simply the right thing to do. It was his job.

"I have no doubt that your words are true." The Tarkheena said, looking at Peter's disheveled self before going on. "Regardless of your brothers good meaning behind his actions though, I cannot condone any act of a slave done against their masters. But, seeing as I know that you Edden have been unfairly treated, even for a slave, I feel that I need to take it upon myself to intervene on your part. At the moment, my family is...indisposed, and in need of more hands. My lady's maid has been having to take on roles that are not hers. This proves difficult as she is quite lacking and seemingly incompetent, even with the duties of just a lady's maid. And seeing as my son wants to use her elsewhere, this leaves behind errands and duties that need to be done. I would like you to be the person to pick up what she cannot, among other chores that will be needing to be completed in the stables, kitchens, and elsewhere. It would require you to be able to keep up and maintain a steady pace, but you would no longer be striving in the fields or reporting to those overseers. You would also be moved out of your slave quarters that are on the outskirts of the property and put into the quarters connected to the main house."

Edmund and Peter both gaped. The benefits of living and working inside the house as opposed to outside seemed massive in comparison, unless you were to be working directly for one of the family members. But Edmund wouldn't always be around the Tarkheena, and even if he was, she apparently had taken a liking to him.

"Yes, yes, I would be happy to, but my brother-"

"Your brother would remain where he is, as he is in need of a reprimand for fighting against the overseers, and because he is bigger and stronger than you. I'm sure you understand, Petryn?"

"Yes," Peter answered, too quickly and heartily for Edmund's liking. He didn't want to have to remain in the fields, but Peter was not about to mess up any chance Edmund had at having it easier.

"Then so shall it be. Edden, I expect your work to be completed on time despite your infirmaries. But I do agree with your brother that you are in need of rest. I will have Rineeda show you to your quarters and then bring you salve for your wounds, as well as sustenance. You will have today to rest and regain your strength."

"Thank you, Mistress." Edmund could not believe what he was hearing.

"Petryn, you are to return to the fields. I'm sure they still have plenty of work to be done. I will send word that I have taken care of seeing to your reprimand, and they are not to add any of their own to it."

Peter too felt very relieved. The fields weren't ideal, but as long as Edmund was taken better care of, he'd not complain. But there was still one more thing he wished.

"Thank you, Tarkheena. But if I may, I have not been allowed to even speak to my brother. Today is the first day that I've lain eyes on him since we were separated. If you would, may I be allowed to accompany him to his quarters? He is badly hurt and if I could just see to it that his wounds were cleaned well, it would be of a greater relief to me than I can say. I will return to my work and ensure that it is finished before nightfall." Peter said, hoping to Aslan she'd say yes.

Tarkheena Tullah looked almost through Peter before responding. "You are once again too bold for what is good for you. I have granted you a more bountiful blessing than most would hope for. Your audacity to keep asking precedes you. You should heed the words of one of our great philosophers, who said 'A slave is only as good as he is quiet'."

Peter couldn't help but give her a cheeky grin. "Even so, Mistress, I cannot help but remember the words of one of the wise judges of my homeland, who said 'One will not receive if he first doesn't ask'."

dmund smiled, and coughed, trying not to laugh. That 'wise judge' was him. And those words were some he had spoken to Peter when his big brother was upset that Edmund was actually allowed one of the sweets Susan was helping bake before supper. Peter still thought that Edmund's good luck with winning over their sister had very little to do with him asking, and much more to do with Edmund's "little brother powers of persuasion". Susan always melted.

The boys were unsure if the Tarkheena understood the look they shared with the memory, or if she just mistook their grins for something else. Regardless, she gave Peter a sly smile. "I cannot deny the words of your wise judge. It seems you have slain me in this battle of wits, though I warn you to not engage in such battles with any other of your greaters. They will not be so charmed by your soothsayers or your silver tongue. Nevertheless, I will allow you to help your brother. But you are to return shortly to your work. Idle hands are of mistrust and deceit. And I'm sure Hargeph has plenty for you to do still."

Peter didn't allow her final words to deter him. Instead, he focused on the fact that he would get to see his brother. To really talk to him. To check up on and help him.

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Yes, thank you." Edmund said.

She nodded and then called for Rineeda. "Show these two to the servants' quarters. Retrieve them a wash basin and salve. Edden must rest if he's to be of any use."

When they got to the slave quarters Edmund would be sleeping in - a long hall like room with numerous mats – it was completely empty, with all of the others presumably out working. Rineeda said she'd be back with supplies and left promptly, leaving the brothers alone.

Edmund only got a glance at Peter before his brother had enveloped him. It was a little too tight at first until he heard Edmund's sharp intake of breath.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Edmund actually laughed, despite how it ached to do so.

Peter was thankful for the light tone Edmund used, but it didn't go unnoticed to Peter that Edmund let himself fall completely into him, needing him for support. Peter was worried, stress never really leaving him, and he simply laid his hand on the back of Edmund's head, running comforting fingers through his hair like Susan always did when one of her siblings needed peace.

After a short moment, Peter pulled back, needing to look him over and assess the damage. He put one hand behind Edmund's head again, this time making him look up at him.

"By Aslan Ed, look at you."

"I'm fine, Pete." Edmund said quiet and unconvincingly.

"It doesn't look like it."

"Looks can be deceiving." He smiled but Peter wasn't joking. So he went on. "Really, I'll be fine. It's like you said, I just need some rest. I'm more worried about you being stuck out there with the overseers after fighting them." Edmund let out a small laugh again, though it sounded as strained as he felt. "Thanks for helping me, by the way."

Peter smiled at him. "Don't mention it, little brother. You look awful. Have they really been singling you out like the Tarkheena said?"

"I'm their favorite punching bag. But maybe now that title will get passed to you."

The two talked more in hushed whispers, filling the other in on all they've experienced since being separated. They both tried to be brief about their mistreatment, and both looked particularly downtrodden when hearing the other still had no news of Susan or the Archenlanders they'd come to Calormen with.

They silenced themselves when Rineeda came back in. She didn't say a word and left swiftly, and Peter used the bandages and medicine she brought to clean Edmund up. He helped his little brother eat and drink, with Edmund insisting that Peter have some too, then supported him as Ed slowly lowered himself down onto the mat.

Edmund kept talking to Peter, even once his eyes could no longer stay open but his words became mumbled. He wanted to prolong the time that Peter was with him and not in the fields, but he was so weak, so tired...

"Get some rest, Ed. No need to worry about me." Peter smiled at his brother and brushed his dark locks off of his forehead, before Edmund was lost to sleep.

Susan had been stuck inside her tiny little room aboard the ship all day. Though, calling it a 'room' was generous. It was more of a cupboard or closet, and with the little cot in there, it had only space enough for her to take exactly one and a half measly steps before she hit the wall.

Larsenilo had thrown her in there last night after he almost did the unspeakable to her. She still couldn't understand why he had even stopped. All she could remember was that she had hit her head. Hard. Leaving a jagged cut splitting open across her temple. Then she had felt unconsciousness tugging at her as she fought him, and then...well then there had been that rumbling sound.

She didn't know what it was, but it cause Larsenilo to get a very strange look on his face. The only word she could think to describe it as was terrified. He had looked terrified. She just couldn't figure out why.

As the sun was setting now, Susan's head still ached and she hoped that she didn't have a concussion. She had yet to receive any food all day, and she didn't expect to any time soon. Her stomach growled loudly as she looked up and out of the small window above her, high upon the wall and much too small for her to escape out of.

What little she could see was of a sunset sky ablaze in color. She hated not being able to know what was going on around her, but she thought it much better than being with the Captain. This was the first night he hadn't required her to dine with him. She was so repulsed by him that she actually preferred being hungry than having to sit across from him and act accordingly.

She had no idea how long he was going to leave her in her cupboard of a room, but it came as a peaceful break, despite the pain in her head and her empty stomach.

Once the stars came out and the hour became so late that even the ship was quiet, she thought of the nights spent with Lucy, her little sister pointing out every constellation to her in the Narnian sky. The memories brought a smile to her face and became the only thing keeping her from crying herself to sleep, thinking of the other girls she had seen the night before.

Her dreams soon became deep and surreal, but Susan felt herself stirring when there was movement outside her door.

It sounded like footsteps and creaking boards, but her mind was so fuzzy with sleep and there was a break in the noises for so long, she thought she had made it up completely.

Then the lock on her door rattled and creaked, the turning mechanisms groaning.

It was slow movements, as if someone was trying to be quiet, but failing miserably as metal grated against metal. It only stopped when suddenly that same low rumble from the night before sounded out above the turning of the key. It reverberated through the air and Susan.

The rattling ceased in an instant, so quickly the new silence was jarring. The pause stretched on, but something akin to heavy breathing was able to be heard just before there was the pounding of feet running away across the wooden planks.

Susan sat up. She rubbed her eyes and the side of her head that she'd hit on the wooden crates. Once the silence was back again and staying, she was unsure if she hadn't just dreamed the whole thing. But the memory of the rumbling was so clear, so comforting and somehow soothing, that the fear that normally would have come couldn't find its way to her.

Eventually, she laid back down, closing her eyes.

The last thing she saw before falling asleep was the night sky out of the small window and the shadow of something large walking by.