Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this and particularly to my reviewers. I didn't expect such a positive response. Glenstorm63: I have fixed most of the errors you pointed out now, I hope. Thanks to Niko Bzozzos, Le Faucon Bleu, Eos-fiordineve and TellYouAllAboutIt and, as always to Sophia the Scribe for your encouragement.

Grave Offerings

Cor hoisted himself onto his horse, despite the page eagerly trying to give him a hand. A cold wind from the north blew back his cloak and ruffled his hair as he settled himself. On another day, it might have been enough to convince him to stay inside, but he needed to get away from the castle, distract himself from all the difficulties that lay inside its walls.

"If anyone asks," he told the page. "Tell them I've gone out riding."

"Milord," bowed the boy and stepped back from the horse.

Cor urged the horse into a trot and its hooves squelched through the damp mud. Kione was a white mare, but she was not a horse blessed with speech. Nonetheless, she was warm and friendly and didn't ask much of him, except the odd apple – which was very little compared to everyone else. He urged Kione into a canter and soon the castle was behind them and they were out amongst the fruit trees of the orchard.

Cor's muscles loosened and his spirits lifted. Riding always had a calming effect on him. Maybe because he associated it with the first real freedom he'd ever had. A memory of Aravis, racing alongside him, hair streaming behind her popped into his head and he shook his head. Now was not the time to be getting nostalgic. The whole point of leaving the castle had been to have some time to himself and yet he couldn't seem to leave Aravis behind wherever he went.

Then he thought of Corin and his chest tightened.

Cor looked up. Through the budding tree branches, a few clouds half covered the ice blue sky. He didn't want to deal with all these conflicting emotions. He didn't know how to deal with all these conflicting emotions. What he wanted was clarity, but what he got was the feeling of being lost in the suburbs of Tashban. It was too much to handle on his own, but he couldn't go to Corin, because the boy had shut him out and he couldn't go to Aravis, because Corin would be annoyed with him. There was only one person he could seek guidance from.

"Come on Kione," he said, slowing the horse to a trot and gently pulling the reins so that they veered off to the left.

When they reached the meadow, the flowers were just opening for the day. Purple and white in wild green grass. Cor drew Kione to a stop a few metres from the fresh mound of earth and slipped off her back.

"Have yourself some grass," he said, patting her flank and walked towards the mound. At the base was a stone plaque that had been fitted after the funeral:

Here lies King Lune, a guiding light in the darkness.

Tears welled in Cor's eyes. The darkness was indeed great at the moment.

"Father," he managed, his voice coming out high-pitched. "I'm lost. I've lost you and I feel like I'm losing Corin and if I don't be careful I'll lose Aravis as well. But I am at an impasse. I cannot move, for fear that someone will be lost to me forever."

There was no reply. Cor let the tears roll down his cheeks and sunk to his knees in the waterlogged mud, not caring that his clothes would be ruined.

"I wish you were still here, father," he whispered, stroking the mound of earth as though it were a dear friend. "Everything was so much simpler, everything was in balance. Now it is upset and I don't know what to do."

He wiped at his eyes.

"Why did you have to die?" he asked the mound, but it gave no answer, so he turned to the sky, knowing Aslan must be watching from somewhere. "Why did he have to die?"

And still there was no answer. Cor tore at his hair and punched the ground. Mud splattered up his arm and his hand ached, but it didn't make the pain inside go away and it didn't offer any consolation. His tears overwhelmed him again and he sat in the mud, sobbing, as the sun slowly crept into the other side of the sky.

After a few minutes – or maybe hours – he became aware of a nuzzling at his shoulder. He looked up, limbs shivering.

"Kione?" His throat was dry, but the tears had stopped some time ago and his face felt sticky and stiff. He put a hand to his brow. "How long have I been sitting here?"

The mare couldn't enlighten him. She was more interested in sniffing the commemorative plaque.

"Hey," said Cor. "What are you doing?"

He climbed to his feet to pull her away. She gave him a disappointed whinny and shifted aside, and he saw what she'd been sniffing. At the end of the plaque's inscription, somebody had left a gathering of daisies.

The flowers were still vibrant, their stems mostly green, suggesting they must have been picked recently. Maybe even this morning. Someone else had already visited his father's grave today. Cor's heart ached. He didn't know why it bothered him. He wasn't the only one who missed his father. It was wrong to be jealous.

Still wondering who had visited, Cor leant down and touched the plants, but the moment his skin brushed the petals, the world spun. The colours melded into a mess of paint.

When they reformed, he wasn't in the meadow, but on a mountain. Snow and rock extended on all sides and the ground beneath his feet sloped sharply upwards. This was not a well-trodden mountain path.

All at once, his senses returned to him. Frost bit at his extremities and froze the tears on his face. In the distance, a loud growl seemed to shake the earth.

And then he was back in the meadow. Cor stumbled back and the daisies fell from his hand. When the dizziness evaporated, he looked from his hand to the flowers and back again many times. Had he just seen a vision? Of what? He sighed and turned to Kione.

"I suppose Aslan moves in mysterious ways," he said wistfully. "But what was he trying to tell me?"

A mountain? Maybe it was some kind of warning, a hint of the future. His insides churned. That growl was unlike anything he'd ever heard before. Wild and feral. The vision hadn't been clear enough for him to guess what kind of animal had made that noise, though.

Kione nuzzled his shoulder again.

"You're right," said Cor, dragging his eyes away from his father's mound. "It's getting late. People will begin to worry. Let's get back."

He saddled up and they rode into the trees, back towards the castle, but he couldn't stop thinking about the vision. Aslan must have sent it to him for a reason. But it couldn't be Cor in the vision - he had no reason to be climbing mountains and he certainly wouldn't climb any now he'd seen the vision, but why else would he see a vision? Who else would be stupid enough to climb a mountain in the grip of snow?

His stomach twisted.

Not Aravis, surely? Corin? He remembered Corin's silence from the morning. No, no, no. He was probably over-reacting. Aslan could have sent him that vision for any reason. It could have been anyone, maybe someone he didn't even know, but Cor spurred Kione into a gallop.

He just wanted to check.

Surely even Corin wouldn't be stupid enough to go climbing in the mountains when winter was barely over down here and the north was probably still in the full grip of snow and ice.

As Cor reached the stables, the page boy from earlier hurried up to him. "Your majesty, your clothes," he said.

"Oh," said Cor.

He'd completely forgotten about the mud, but that was the least of his problems. He had to ensure that his brother was safe. The vision played again in his head. Snow, rock. That ground-shaking growl.

Then another thought struck him. "Has my brother been down to the stables today?" asked Cor.

The page boy shook his blonde head; he couldn't have been more than twelve.

"No your majesty," he said, then bowed.

Cor nodded, but the uneasiness in his heart did not alleviate. Corin had gone walking around for hours just yesterday. A horse was not necessary.

"Alright, thank you," said the crown prince. "And er, go and have the rest of the day off. You look a bit young to be working a full shift."

"Your majesty." The page ducked his head again, then took Kione by the reins and led her off to the stables.

Cor pulled off his riding gloves and ran into the castle – he didn't care what the servants thought right now. Up the staircase, along the corridor. His heart thudded in his ears. When he reached the door to his brother's room, he rapped on the wood. The sound echoed down the corridor.

"Corin," he shouted. "Open up."

And yet, there was no reply.

I'd love to hear your guesses about the vision :) Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it and until next time :) I'll probably be updating again at the beginning of April.