The Hidden Chambers of a Prince
I watched them walk in, the old woman hunched over, smelling of rotting plants, and chuckling to herself. The sound raised the fur all over my body, and I arched my back, growing to twice my size. Still I only came above her ankles.
What followed her was worse. His scent—blood, cold, and the hunger that does not stop. He was worse than a dumb dog, for his black eyes glinted in the dark, and he watched my Kittens with the hunger I smelled. If all the innocent in the world were sacrificed to his mouth, it would still not be enough for him.
But they went in, in to the young Prince's chamber, led by one of the Dwarf generals. When they had gone I walked over to my Kittens, soothing their wails with my warm tongue. Yet my heart was not in it, for if evil such as this is invited into the Prince's chambers, if this is what fought with us and won our freedom, what kind of Narnia would belong to my young?
Hours passed, and the young ones fell asleep. I curled in front of them, in the dark, wondering—waiting.
And then I raised my head. I watched.
I watched as other soldiers, two Fauns and a Centaur, came stumbling through the dark hallway, two bodies in their arms.
And I closed my eyes, breathing a prayer of thanks to Aslan, for evil walked into the Prince's chamber, and was carried out dead.