A/N: Here, have a quick little scene I wrote mostly for storyboarding purposes when I was figuring out Addie's backstory. The more I write smol!Addie, the more I love her 😭Originally, I toyed with the idea of Aslan actually showing Addie her past, but What Grows had no flashback scenes up to that point so this ultimately felt out of place.

Content Warnings: N/A

Addie

The night is a cold, damp thing as she runs, a mockery of the mother she needs to find as it wraps icy tendrils around her wrists in the gap between her gloves and sleeves. Mud squelches through her toes; even her wool socks can't keep the country muck at bay, and it's too late to try and find her lost shoe. Mother will scold her, but that will mean Mum is here and that's a good thing. Mum didn't mean to send her away, it was just a… a misunderstanding, that's all. She hasn't been so naughty that Mum won't be happy to see her.

Follow the tracks, that's right. Addie pulls her wet sweater tighter and stops. Trains are loud, and she can't be too far off. The whistle and grind of metal is farther than it should be, way beyond the trees. Addie turns toward the noise, scrabbles through a mess of brambles. Mum won't be happy that she's torn her sweater, but Addie will say she's sorry and she'll mend it and Mum will be happy again.

Addie breaks into a run, because if the train moves on before she can find the tracks she'll be wandering aimlessly until the next one comes. Bother, she's already wandering aimlessly. Which way did she come from?

Ahead, a strange shape looms in her path. It's tall, and dark, and maybe if she can find a foothold, she can climb and get a better look, find the tracks so she won't have to wait for trains to pass through and follow the sound in circles. She's not tall enough to climb these trees.

If Papa was here, he'd give her a boost and she could climb halfway to the sky. Mum would shout warnings and scold her for going too high.

Addie approaches the rectangular shape. Papa isn't here, and Mum shipped her off. She can do this herself.

Lightning flashes as she reaches out to touch it. Her fingers find air, but her eyes find stairs. They lead up to nothing but air, with no handrail she can cling to. Mum would tell her to listen for another train, keep going, don't take chances. Papa would agree at first only to return with her later and tell her to try with that naughty twinkle in his eye. And if she slipped, he'd be right there to catch her.

Addie shivers and swipes at the water streaming down her face. She'll just have to catch herself. When Papa gets back, she can tell him all about it and Mum will scold her but she'll will laugh too, sooner or later. Though maybe Addie should leave out the thunderstorm when she tells them.

She steps with her left foot first, the one with nothing but sock to keep her dry. Mud oozes as she steps up. Right foot next. It's alright at first, but no, no, she's slipping! Addie topples sideways, landing squarely bum-first on the second step.

Loafers aren't the best rain shoes. Addie kicks off her remaining shoe and there, that's better. She can grip with her toes this way, though it'd be easier without her socks. Addie leaves those behind too, in a soggy heap on the first step.

Mum would say what a sight she is, barefoot in the rain in the middle of a strange forest.

Addie squares her shoulders. The sooner she finds her way back home, the sooner she can hear for herself. Maybe she can even be a big girl and get a pot of tea ready before Mum gets home from the factory.

With her toes gripping the slippery stone, Addie rises step after step. She only wobbles a little, but she doesn't slip. It'd be too easy to slip right off the edge, and Papa isn't here to catch her.

The stairs end in a square platform facing a mossy tree trunk. But if she stands on her tiptoes, peers through the trees… there, that's the distant steam puff. The train is further than she thought; has she been wandering around that long?

Thunder rumbles, drowning out the fading whine of the train. She's still too far off to see the tracks from here, but she knows roughly where to head now. That's something.

It's an accident. One moment Addie has both feet on the icy stone, rainwater pooling around her ankles. The next, a blinding white flash envelops the tree trunk and her ears split open.

Bollocks, it hurts. Addie clutches her ears as her feet slide, desperately lurching for purchase on the slick platform.

Her mother's voice echoes from the back of her head, calling for Papa. Or is that her voice begging someone to catch her? Addie grabs for the edge but it's too late, her shoulder slips over and the rest of her follows, careening through the air as flying splinters cut her ripped cardigan.

For a long, long moment, there is nothing. But slowly, the darkness behind her eyelids brightens to gold, then orange, then brilliant red. Warmth bleeds over her skin in careful inches.

Addie's eyes open to sunlight. Addie realises, distantly, that the splintered oak is gone and her back only hurts a little. The tickle at the back of her neck and under her fingers is grass.

And slowly, Addie realises the air is not the same. The trees are greener, taller, somehow more alive. Something about the world is entirely, irrevocably different.