I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only write long-winded stories about themto avoid doing homework.
Author's Note: I've hit the ten-thousand word mark! I think I've rather gone into shock - I've never, ever written anything this long. But I haven't run out of ideas yet, hooray! Oh, and Mooze, m'dear, I think I win. :) Thank you to all reviewers, it really means a lot to me that you've taken the time to read this through and told me what you thought. Here's hoping it doesn't go too far downhill.
The sky was a deep blue velvet, glistening with stars. Far below it, a roaring bonfire shot sparks high into the air as it crackled, popped and hissed. The air was pleasantly crisp and cold. Lucy sat upon the sand, watching some of the sailors perform a fast-paced dance around the fire and laughing as they stumbled over one another's feet. Beside her sat Thomas, who seemed rather quiet. He did not join in the dancing, but Lucy didn't know if it was because he was ashamed of himself or because his right side was entirely covered in dark bruises. He had been underneath Edmund when they fell, and had not had a body to cushion his landing.
Edmund came to sit next to her, returning from the bath Susan had made them all take. She had found a place in the river not far into the forest where the current was not as insistent.
"Hello, Lucy," he said. "Hello, Thomas."
Lucy responded with a hello of her own but Thomas seemed unwilling to speak to Edmund out of guilt. He had already apologized a hundred times over. Edmund shrugged and turned to watch the rest of the camp, lying back on his elbows.
"Where are Susan and Peter?" he asked after a minute. Lucy pointed over to their right with a happy, knowing smirk. Their brother and sister sat a ways away from the fire. Peter had fallen asleep with his head in Susan's lap and she was amusedly smoothing his golden hair. Edmund grinned. "I hope he wakes up sooner or later because I don't think we can carry him into the tent."
"No," agreed Lucy, but she had the feeling that Susan would stay out there as long as she was needed. It was how things tended to work in the family; Peter looked out for everyone and Susan looked out for Peter.
"It makes you think, doesn't it?" Edmund said quietly, suddenly sobered. Lucy looked over at him curiously. "What would happen if anything…went wrong."
"Oh, Ed, don't say things like that," she began, but he shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just that…well, I realized a lot of things when the Witch stabbed me. For a long time I told myself that no one cared about me because it was easier to be angry at you all then to realize that I was mad at the war for taking Father away. I went to the Witch because she told me she could give me anything I wanted. But then things just sort of didn't go as planned, and.." he trailed off. Lucy thought she could see tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said again, swallowing. "I never meant to hurt you. I still have nightmares sometimes." Lucy scooted over and put an arm around his shoulders. He bit his lip and blinked several times, unwilling to cry in front of his little sister.
"Everything's all right now," she said.
"Yes, it is," he said gratefully. "And please…if anything happens…"
"Yes, Ed?"
"I love you all," he mumbled sheepishly. Lucy laughed and hugged him.
"We know. And we love you too."
He grinned through his unshed tears and hugged her back. Lucy still remembered Beruna, how her heart had nearly burst with fear as he had lain on his back, gasping for air and bleeding, how her cordial had saved them that time, how she and Susan and Peter had crushed him in an embrace that seemed to last forever. But this time there was no cordial.
Thomas coughed politely.
"Sorry to disturb, Majesties," he said. "But I think I'm off to bed."
He rose, wincing, and limped off into the darkness. Lucy watched him go, then lay on her back and stared up at the stars. Cair Paravel seemed far off now but she didn't miss it much. For the first time, she really thought about what lay ahead. What if the rumors were true? What if the White Witch was not dead after all? What if, what if? She pushed the thoughts from her mind and dragged herself away from the fire to her tent, where she pulled a blanket over herself and curled up inside it. Sleep claimed her before her siblings returned.
It felt strange to walk on solid ground, Lucy noted the next morning. She had grown so accustomed to the swaying deck beneath her feet that she felt unsteady on the riverbank.
Alone in the tent, Lucy pulled her dress over her head and tied it with a length of rope. Her dagger was stuck in one of the wooden posts that held the tent up, because its sheath was missing. She reached over and picked up her long, heavy mail tunic. It had been especially made for her. There was no one else her size that needed one aside from dwarfs, who were too broad. Frowning, Lucy cinched it with another belt, made of real leather but much wider than her original. Then she pulled her boots on, grabbed her dagger, and left the tent.
The rest of her siblings waited outside, dressed similarly. Susan looked exceedingly uncomfortable. She held her bow at her side, her quiver full of red-feathered arrows and the white horn dangling from her belt. Lucy looked up at them expectantly and received a small smile from Peter.
"We should be going," he said. "The sailors are staying at the riverbank, so we can leave everything here, just bring what you need. There's a band of centaurs that will take us to North Ettinsmoor waiting further in the forest."
They set off into the wood, making idle chatter as they fought through the dense undergrowth. It was about an hour before they came to the first clearing, where a stream flowed off the river and trickled through. The four sat and drank some of the clear water gratefully. Abruptly there was the unmistakable noise of footsteps and their hands flew to their weapons, but it was a centaur, dappled grey and powerfully built. He smiled at them through black eyes and bowed low.
"Your Majesties," he said, his voice a deep baritone. "My herd would be honored to escort you as far as you choose to go."
Several other centaurs stepped out from behind him, also bowing to the Kings and Queens respectfully. They were all armored, and many carried swords. Peter inclined his head to each one in turn, recognizing the ancient race, then straightened out and looked to his siblings.
"Take us to the Witch's creatures," he said. His own voice was more authoritative; it held in it a wisdom and fortitude that betrayed his boyish face. The centaur, who introduced himself as Carrul, nodded then turned without a word and began to lead them away from the clearing. The Pevensies followed with the rest of the centaurs bringing up the rear. Gripping her dagger tightly, Lucy looked around warily at the trees and wondered how many of them were loyal. She could not help but notice that all the centaurs were extraordinarily tense. Which of course raised the question – what was out there to be tense about?
