When the others arrived in the glen, Peter immediately got up to consult with Carrul. Thomas took a seat beside Lucy, Edmund and Susan, offering a warm comment to the eldest and a congratulations on her recovery. She thanked him, and the four sat for a moment while they waited for their leaders to come to a decision. But the two continued to speak for longer than they'd anticipated, and it was several minutes before Carrul seemed to say something that convinced Peter; the king paled slightly and glanced over at the dryads before striding back to his family.
"All right," he said. "We're going to move on and find a place to stay for the night."
"Can't we just stay here?" asked Susan, looking slightly puzzled.
"Ah, well, you see, Carrul's just told me that this is one of the most sacred groves in all of Narnia. I really had no clue. But I think it would be just a tad disrespectful to…"
He was interrupted by the cascading laughter of several dryads. Turning to face them with an expression torn between indignity and bewilderment, Peter watched them for a moment before one of them spoke.
"This glen is sacred," she agreed, "but Narnia's beauty is not made to be closed off from its citizens, your Highness. Rest here for the night. To be sacred but not useful is hardly enticing."
"No, really, it's all right, we'll…"
"Nonsense," said Susan, rising to her feet and dusting off her dress. Lucy noticed that her mail shirt was folded near the roots of the central tree and she was garbed only in the dress she'd been wearing when she was stabbed. It looked clean, though, as if it had been washed. Her sister continued speaking. "You heard her, Peter. It would be rude to reject such an invitation. And I don't really suspect you're in any shape to be traveling, either. I seem to remember you taking a few hard knocks escaping from the camp."
Peter looked exceedingly uncomfortable at this remark. Lucy marveled at the paradox that was her brother; he wouldn't admit his injury, but he wouldn't lie either, which left him to fiddle with his sword hilt and stare up at the darkening sky.
"Right," said Edmund, after a moment. He rose up off his elbows to remove his sword-belt, casting it off to one side and sighing in relief. "Since we'll be spending the night here, we might as well get comfortable."
"Now just wait a minute, I never said…" began Peter, but Lucy had already followed Ed's example. He turned to Susan pleadingly, but she only fixed him with a playfully smug look and placed her hands on her hips.
"I think you've lost this one, O High King," she said. Thomas rose beside her, offering Peter a sympathetic look.
"She's right, mate," he said, then clapped a hand to his mouth and amended, "Your Highness."
"Oh, don't bother," muttered Peter, heaving a sigh and reluctantly removing his own belt. He tossed it to where Ed and Lucy had dumped their own. It was followed a moment later by his gauntlets, and his newly freed fingers fumbled for a moment with the buckle of the leather strap that ran from his hip to shoulder, holding his shield in place, before this accessory, too, was unceremoniously dumped in the heap. Thomas undid his own belt and (more carefully) placed his rapier by the rest of the weaponry.
When at last they were comfortable enough, the subject of dinner was brought up. In an instant the dryads disappeared into the woods and emerged only a few minutes later with a myriad of things like berries, nuts and tubers; the riches of the forest were supplemented with the things left in the packs of the travelers, and a sizeable spread was created. They were fourteen in all, four humans, six dryads, two centaurs, Renlin and Thomas. Despite the diversity they all tucked in with a will and soon the polite discourse gave way to earnest conversation, though Peter and Carrul again isolated themselves to talk over the state of things and plan the best course of action. After the meal was finished, they prepared to sleep.
Lucy lay beside Susan, tucking her cloak about herself but reaching for her sister's hand. It was nice to have their family together again. The sisters huddled together in the slight chill, Susan's arm finding its way around Lucy's shoulders to bring them into a tight embrace.
"It's good to have you back," whispered Lucy as she heard the others settling down around them. Susan smiled at her, her long black hair spilling out of the hood of her cloak.
"It's good to be back," she answered quietly. "So what's happened, really? I didn't get much information out of you lot earlier."
Lucy began to tell her what she and Ed had told Peter, and found that Susan was an excellent audience. She listened carefully, didn't interrupt, and didn't wear the worried, somewhat guilty expression that seemed plastered to Peter's face. By the end, Lucy was already drifting off to sleep, her words slurring together. She was vaguely aware of Susan pulling them closer together, the faint snoring of someone else in the vicinity, and then she had succumbed to a welcome drowsiness that washed her into the realms of sleep.
Crumbling stone walls, a broken gate, currents that pulled little schools of fish back and forth far beneath the glowing surface of the lake. The remains of what once had been a glorious castle. Turrets like broken limbs, jutting up into the frigid water, casting dark, menacing shadows that danced with the changing light from above. Down, down, deeper, into the deteriorated structure, into the blackness of the courtyard that once held countless figures of stone, past the eerie gardens, into the Great Hall…
More statues. A young woman with an arrow on her bow, grim determination on her tear-tracked face, beautiful even in stone. Behind her the crumpled form of a boy still on the path to manhood, facedown on the cold floor, sword lying inches from his limp, marbled hands. And, closest to Lucy, a warrior whose face still radiated bloodlust as he charged forward towards an unknown enemy with his sword uplifted. Beyond the madness in his face, a horrible grief and guilt. She cried out and jumped backwards, away from the terrifying figures that were not her family, could not be her family, it was impossible, it was impossible, wake up, wake up…
She did, lurching forward with a whimpering cry even as she felt Susan's arms tighten about her gently, one hand on the back of her neck where the mail did not protrude. Lucy let her sister rock her back and forth gently as her hitched breathing slowly returned to normal, little sobs muffled in Susan's shoulder.
"Shhh," soothed the elder of the sisters, pushing Lucy's hair away from her sweaty forehead. When Lucy opened her eyes at last, it was completely dark in the clearing save for the small amount of moonlight that trickled down. Susan's face was illuminated by it, creating an almost ethereal effect, her mist-blue eyes watching her sister with tenderness.
" Susan," Lucy gasped finally, relaxing the hands that were fisted into the elder's cloak.
"What was it, Lu?" Susan asked quietly.
"Dream, just a dream," she murmured incoherently. Her heart was still hammering. Susan held her snug, whispering quiet reassurances in the dark of the night. Giving a shudder, Lucy felt the tension drain from her body, replaced with the exhaustion of spent adrenaline, and again she began to fall to sleep. Just before she lost consciousness, she felt her sister raise her head and heard her say,
"She's all right, Ed, go back to sleep."
Then there was the sound of someone shifting, a grouchy "gerroff, Peter," and Lucy remembered nothing more.
