Clouds aren't nearly as interesting from the inside.

I hate horses. At least, horses that aren't Bree. I've kicked this one over and over again, and he continues to ignore me. I've clearly lost King Lune's party, and nearly met Rabadash's.

Nearly choking with self-pity, I began to grumble aloud about nearly everything that has gone wrong on this trip. As I get to the final complaint, the one about Aravis nearly being eaten, a warm tear bubbles from my eye onto the horse's coat. It is presently joined by others, streaming out and sliding down until my cheeks are wet and chilled.

Someone – or something – just made a noise beside me.

And the worst part is, it wasn't a loud snarl or rumble or even the sound of a foot breaking a branch. It's the sound of something breathing. And since I've just noticed it, I couldn't begin to imagine how long it's been there. It could have been stalking me for a while at this point. I say "stalking" because from the scale of the breaths this thing is taking, it's huge. And what good could a giant do me right now?

If you've ever been crying and then been given an abrupt shock, you know that for some reason you usually stop crying. Probably because you don't want to be overheard. But I'm damned if I do, because I'm still riding in a cloud, and equally so if I don't, because this fool of a horse won't gallop.

Faintly, in a little peep of a whisper, I speak, and a Voice answers me. At the first sound of it, pride, the real, noble sort, races up and down my spine and twists itself into my soul so quickly that I mistake it for fear. Trembling and about to weep, I beg it to leave, but it assures and reassures me, benevolently offering to share the burdens of my heart.

At the thought of a sympathetic ear, all of the barriers dissolve, and I pour my heart out, telling this - thing - about practically the whole journey. I feel very sorry for myself, but the Voice is strangely indifferent, if not unsympathetic. "You have hardly met ill fortune, Child."

"Meeting all those lions isn't bad luck?"

"There was only one lion."

"But even from the first night, there were at least two, and then –"

"There was but one, Child. He moved swiftly."

My disbelief and fear returns for a moment as I stop to think. When I speak again, my voice is not steady. "How do you know?"

"I was the Lion."

I say nothing; there is nothing to say. The Voice continues on, accounting for every encounter, but only one latches onto my ear and holds my attention captive. I dare to ask him about it. "So you were the one who hurt Aravis?"

"I was."

I thought that perhaps I would be angry upon getting the confirmation that I fully expected. Instead, I'm only awed that this Voice, Lion notwithstanding, could venture on so valiant a woman and emerge unscathed. "Why?"

"It is not for you to know from me, my son. You may be told at a later time."

This horse hasn't sped up yet.

"You may be told all things a later time. But for now, yours is to have courage and continue on your appointed path. Welcome home, my son!"

With dramatic speed, it's daylight, and I can once again see this wretch of a horse. We're loping up a path towards a forest glen. And right beside us both is a Lion, whose mane of living light outshines the sun. It's easily as tall as the horse. The solemn, golden eyes that gaze upon me fill me body and soul with pride, the truest, most honorable kind.

What could I say in the presence of such awe-inspiring glory? Nothing comes to mind, but for once, nothing is the right thing for me to say. I slip out of the saddle and throw myself face first before the Lion, prostrating myself the same way that I did so long ago in front of that Tarkaan. Things are different now. I would be honored to kiss the paws of this wonderful, majestic animal. As I move forward to do so, I feel compelled to meet his eyes.

Be honored, O rightful heir of Archenland. May goodness and mercy follow you all the days of your life, as you and yours dwell in your lord's house forever.

And then he is gone.

Two days and multiple wonderfully fulfilling meals later, I am resting on the cool side of a house owned by three Dwarf brothers. Although I don't know if King Lune's party made it where they were headed in time, somehow I feel no anxiety. The meeting with the Lion is still fresh in my mind, and it's hard to be afraid of anything after seeing something like that.

The sound of horns brings the brothers scurrying out. As they emerge, Rogin yells excitedly, "King Edmund!"

So they've made it through as well! Now I understand why I'm not afraid. The omens are good. I stir myself, informing the Dwarves that I intend to meet the King's company. They wish me luck and each shakes my hand firmly before I take my leave.

But before I can make myself known to the King of Narnia, the young boy whom I met in Calormen comes running up excitedly. "Ah, you made it after all! Did you know that Chervy the Stag met us yesterday and said that a boy who looked just like me had news of two hundred Calmorenes on their way to Anvard? No one knew whom he was talking about except me! I had a good feeling about you from the moment that we met. I say, does my father know that you're about?"

"Your Highness, who is your friend?" a familiar voice asks in the crowd. And for the first time in a few days, I feel vaguely discomfited. It's King Edmund.

"Sire, it's my twin. Remember, you met him for the first time in Calormen?" Before I can resist, Corin grabs me in a firm grip and hauls me off to meet the King again. A moment later, we are standing before the young King, who regards me with a piercing stare. It is not a cold look, but I squirm beneath it all the same.

His sister, who has yet to dismount, stares at me in surprise. "Corin, dear! I never knew that you had a twin!" Her pretty face clouds over for just a moment as she lapses into thought. "But, then - ?"

I take the opportunity to plead my case. "Please, Your Highness, I couldn't have helped what happened in Calormen. I would have asked you for help, but I didn't know any better. And I wouldn't have dreamed of betraying you. I was just…afraid." My head bows in the old way, the way I used to ask pardon of Arsheesh.

But instead of a blow, a hand lifts up my chin and coaxes me to meet the King's eyes. Although they are still stern, they are full of grace. "I know that now, boy. Try to avoid awkward situations in future, if you dislike awkward explanations. But you have my forgiveness, and all's well."

With a large burden thus relinquished, I go off to speak with others in the large party whose acquaintance I had previously enjoyed. I am not far into conversation with Mr. Tumnus when we both hear King Edmund shouting. "By the Lion's Mane…! Your Royal Highness, this is really too bad of you! When will you stop behaving in such an unbecoming manner? I'd just as soon have hornets in your place!"

Once again, Corin's gotten himself into trouble. Something tells me that life won't be very dull if I continue to hang around with him. I go to see what's developed, and come upon King Edmund, looking quite angered, a Dwarf who is obviously in pain, and Corin himself.

After getting an explanation from both parties, Edmund turns back to his young charge. Although the main brunt of his fury is spent, he is quite fearsome to behold all the same. "Look at what you've done, Your Highness. This warrior is lost to us, and surely you know that battle is upon us all!"

Without any hesitation, Corin offers to take his place, but the King dismisses him brusquely. Shrugging, the prince apologizes to the injured Dwarf, then pulls me aside. "Look, there's Thornbut's armor. Hurry up and put it on."

"But why?" I ask, even though I know full well why.

"So we can be in the battle together, that's why! He's picking up the undercoat of mail before he realizes that I haven't responded. "You do want to, don't you?"

"Yes," I say uncertainly, despite some very strong doubt.

But that is all he wants to hear, and he begins to dress me quickly, handing me the shield to hold as he puts the sword belt on my body. "Great, you look just perfect. Now hop on that horse and hold steady until they start moving again. When they begin to ride off, we'll keep well to the back until the actual charge. Then they'll never notice us."

As we maneuver our steeds towards the end of the group, I overhear Queen Lucy. Her voice is light and lilting, somewhat reminiscent of Queen Susan, and is easy to distinguish among the general noise. She is inquiring Corin's whereabouts of Edmund. The King's answer is, "He's not up here, and that's welcome news. Leave well enough alone."

She is not satisfied, as she then turns to Lord Peridan to say, "Isn't there a prophecy about the elder son of King Lune? As you may recall, 'He will save Archenland from the deadliest danger in which ever she lay?'"

Peridan laughs. "If it concerns Prince Corin, I'd like to see that one come true myself."

"Not Corin, my Lord – his elder brother."

"You mean Prince Cor, your Highness? But he was lost so long ago."

"And yet a young man, very much like Prince Corin, has come all the way from beyond Calormen to warn us of treachery afoot – do you not think that other boy is indeed Prince Cor?"

"Well, I do suppose – I mean, I didn't get a very good look at him myself – but, yes, I believe that could be our long lost princeling."

If I had been paying attention, I suppose that conversation would have meant something to me at the time. But a battle is at hand, and once again we're headed into the mountains to cross a pass. For the first time in a while, I think of Aravis, and recall what the Lion said about her. So he had never meant to kill her at all! I do wonder why he cut her, though.

The blast of a horn brings me back to the present, reminding me that I may lose my own life soon. I mumble a silent, ill-constructed prayer to the Lion to keep me safe. I hope that I'll see her again.