A/N: It's not often I try my hand at creepy (pretty much only "Hunter and Hunted" and to some extent "The Sister of Charn", and this won't be any more creepy than those, because I don't like creepy), but Halloween is coming up, and I had a very vivid nightmare a long time ago that inspired this story. So I suppose you could say the horror is mine and nothing else is?

Lucy walked into the dark garden, listening to the rustling of the leaves. In the darkness she heard a hundred dry whispers as leaves scratched the bare branches of trees and tumbled against each other on the ground. She could hear the chant without words that moved through the night as the invisible wind danced through the dead. A faint echo of Fauns piping played a counterpoint, if the Queen listened hard enough. The wind lifted Lucy's hair, pulled her clothing, and called her to come, come, come, calling her heart to fly in a way no Daughter of Eve can.

Lucy shivered.

"Your Majesty should go inside. It is too cold for Narnians without fur to be outside."

Lucy did not turn, for she knew the deep, firm voice well. She also knew the Centaur General likely walked the garden for reasons similar to her own.

"They found another Faun today."

"I know, your Majesty."

"That makes five," Lucy whispered. A thick material, already warm, dropped over her shoulders, and kept going till it drowned her feet in folds. Oreius was tall. "You need your cloak if you're staying out here."

"Your Majesty needs it more."

Lucy shivered again. "The Faun's hand was so cold." Phor had been so pale as well, so corpse-like. His hair had become grey overnight, and his face looked gaunt and old.

"Your Majesty tried the cordial?"

Lucy shook her head. "We struggled to get his mouth open, and when we did, he would not swallow." She wrapped the cloak all the way around her, holding it tightly. "I put a drop on my finger and rubbed the bottom of his hooves, but he still didn't wake." His hooves had been worn thin, the flesh under them inflamed.* The fur around them had gone grey as well. "Oreius, what is happening to them?"

Orieus did not answer.

The music played again, the pipes soft and lilting in the darkness. Persistent, like a whisper in Lucy's ear in the midst of a crowd.

They were calling Lucy to dance.

"Let's go inside, your Majesty."

Lucy left, handing the cloak back to the general as they passed inside. She shivered once the warmth was removed and quickly went to bed, burrowing under her blankets.

In her bedroom she could no longer hear the pipes.

A gentle hand stroking her hair woke her in the morning. She turned, her smile and greeting dying on her lips at her sister's grave face.

"Susan?"

Susan kept stroking her forehead, eyes gentle and sad. "They found another Faun, Lucy." Lucy sat up quickly, Susan's hand falling away.

"Who?"

"Onia." Susan's eyes filled, and Lucy covered her mouth with both hands. Onia was very young; this had been the first year her parents allowed her to go to the Festival Dances and stay the full night, for the festival ended only when the sun rose. Then the Fauns greeted the rising light and went home to rest. Lucy had overheard how much Onia wanted to see that moment, the music of the Fauns' pipes rising in solemn chorus to greet the spreading light, and all the dancers raised their hands to welcome the coming dawn. Each day of the twelve-day celebration more pipers joined the music, each generation adding itself as time went on, and on the twelfth day the song could be heard through the whole surrounding forest. Onia had fashioned herself a new set of pipes so she could dance and play on that twelfth night.

Now the sixth might be her last.

"I'm going to go see her," Lucy said, struggling to get out from under the covers Susan was sitting on. Her sister caught her wrist.

"There is nothing you can do, Lucy. The healers have already attended to her feet." Lucy tugged at her wrist, but Susan held it more tightly. "You don't need to see it, Lucy."

"I'm her Queen."

"We all are; we were all charged to protect her."

"Then I need to see this."

Susan hesitated, and Lucy set her feet firmly and pulled. "Very well," Susan relented. "But let me go with you."

Peter and Edmund were already there. Clutched in Onia's hand was a set of pipes, the tiny holes fitted perfectly to her smaller fingers.

Onia's hair was white, and her face wore a look of horror, slowly softening as Peter patted her head and Edmund told her the history of the Festival of Harvest in gentle tones.

"... a week of giving thanks for the food to last through the winter. But many thought the winter should be welcomed as well, and the festival was lengthened. The Fauns were the ones who incorporated the dance, the first six nights for rejoicing in the food gathered in and the summer passed, and the next six creating the tunes that would warm the winter nights. The dances—" he broke off as he saw his sisters.

"We are doing all we can for her," Peter said in grave tones. "But, like the others, she will not speak." Susan took over soothing the young child, while Lucy went to stand at her feet.

The hooves were once again worn thin, the legs inflamed. Lucy lifted her necklace, but Peter's hand on hers stopped her.

"The healers have tended them, Lu. We can't use the cordial on a smaller injury like this."

"But—" Lucy bit her lip.

"Peter's right," Edmund said gently.

Peter was right, and Lucy knew it. She dropped the necklace chain.

"She disappeared from the dance shortly after it started, we think. No one saw her after the first hour, and her parents only started looking after the dawn celebration," Peter said.

"Where did they find her?" Susan asked, beginning to rub the cold shoulders and arms.

"Robin found her on the beach, just outside Cair Paravel's path," Edmund answered shortly.

"Whatever is doing this is leaving them nearer and nearer to Cair." Peter began twisting his fingers around the hilt of his sword, frowning. "Ed, you and I need to go search where they found her, with the Hounds; we might find something from the scents left behind. Su, will you organise a watch for tonight? And Lu, will you—"

He broke off as Onia cried out, eyes still closed. Susan yanked her hands back from where she'd been beginning to warm Onia's fingers.

"The healers said they do not like their hands touched," Edmund explained. He reached out and began patting Onia's head again, trying to erase the look of terror that was back on the Faun's face. "Oh, thank you," he added as a Dryad came over, lifting the Faun up and cradling her in strong arms.

"Of course, your Majesty. Her parents should be here shortly."

"Then we should be going." The Four turned to leave, Lucy trailing out last. Peter had not given her a task, and she wanted one.

She went back to the garden. The pipes were silent, the wind still, and the garden deserted. All that existed was the warmth of the sun. Lucy went straight to a bench and sat, thinking.

Onia was the last—of the six, six Fauns—they had found who had disappeared from the Festival Dance. Lucy knew some of them, and she knew all of their names: Munma, old and alway smiling, Dualus, Non, Ricus, grumpy and short, Phor, Mr. Tumnus' dear friend, and now Onia, terrified, clutching her pipes close.

Peter had not given Lucy anything to do, but Lucy thought she might have found something. She was going to the Festival Dance that night.

*Oh, the things you research as a writer. I honestly didn't think "common goat hoof problems" would make the list, but here we are. Also, apparently cosplayers can make incredibly convincing faun hooves and legs. I was pretty stunned.