I changed a couple of sentences to be better for readability in chapter 3, but it doesn't affect the sense and meaning. Especially the last sentence, which was poorly written but I had no idea what to write.

And, um, in case you were wondering—the developments of last chapter were not intended. I discovered it as I wrote along. Originally, the only purpose of that plant was to make it feasible that Paddy knew they were alyen, and then they'd avoid them. Then it sort of escalated, and I liked it, so it stayed. I hope you like it...

And now the next prompt. I stared at it last night in complete confusion, wondering what on earth it meant. It was only this morning, when I saw the title to Calyn's response, that it finally began to clear what it might mean. But argh, it's not very easy!

(But still fun.)

An early part of this chapter has been modeled off a certain very moving scene in The Silver Fleet (a film I highly recommend if you don't mind bawling your eyes out afterwards or during). If you've watched it, you'll know, I think.

Prompt #4: What do the seven Friends of Narnia do?

Since my birth I was the special one, favoured daughter, but now their caresses feel like shackles on my spirit.

Taira flinched as another unrestrained bellow of laughter echoed around the group.

Paddy, lips faintly coloured by the plant he had imbibed, uttered something quick, and bright, and clever, and they laughed together again, and all had more of the plant.

This was a different Paddy to the one she had grown a little acquainted with. He had been humorous, but not like this, and quieter. He had disdained the plant, had hated its smell. He had tried to kill her when they first met.

Paddy did not make sense.

Either he was with the tairen, in which case this was a gross betrayal—to eat with the alyen, to accept their food and become one with them!—or he was with the alyen, in which case his near-execution of her made no sense.

Or he was his own man, and utterly unfettered by the constraints of either side, and she had been his first prey.

Taira closed her eyes and tried to sleep, Paddy's betrayal twisting like a knife within her.

Whatever he was, he was not with her, nor with Aslan.

The morning dawned clear and grey, the light still very soft as the first to wake stirred in the camp of the alyen. He rose, stumbling slightly over his own paws, and shifted out of the camp. A little way away from it, and in clear earshot of Taira, he whispered her name.

Taira woke, and was silent.

"Taira!" There was more of a hiss to the word this time. "Are you there?"

She crouched down a little further, glad for the still-present camouflage of the mud, and did not answer him.

"Taira, please." Paddy sounded desperate. "I—I'm sorry, Taira, and this—this plant, I can't smell anything. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it but it seemed—by the Mane, Taira, answer me." He was panicky, darting this way and that, apparently sincere.

But he had seemed sincere on all sides, and something must be false.

"I didn't know—I didn't realise it would be like that, tell me you're there, Taira. I—I've been a fool, please don't go. Y-you might be hurt, or killed, or captured. Taira." His voice was shaking uncontrollably. "Please, I'm sorry. I did one stupid thing, and now I can't find you—can't do anything."

She drew herself in tighter, listening, but still remained silent, unsure whether she wanted to forgive him and reveal her presence. This was nothing like the cocky, brash Paddy from yesterday; this was an uncertain, hesitant, guilt-ridden Fox, who stumbled over his own feet as well as his words.

"Taira." It was a whisper now, his voice catching desperately. "If you love the tairen, let me find you."

Her expression hardened with indignation, and she did not answer him. A moment later Paddy stumbled back to the camp and lay down again as the day brightened, expression miserable.

Paddy's plea had not softened her anger at his accepting the plant he had been so adamantly against; it had only reinforced her knowledge that he was in the wrong for having done so. Paddy's allegiance did not add up; and he was currently in the camp of the alyen. That was enough for Taira. She, at least, would keep separate, after having been under them all of her short life.

"Eh, Paddy, what were you doing earlier?" a lazy, only half awake voice accosted him, a few moments later, as a Dog scrambled to his feet.

Paddy scrambled to his feet and grinned jauntily, although even from this distance Taira could see the expression was halfhearted.

"I've never eaten the plant before, I was feeling a little funny."

A laugh. "First time I had it I threw up in the bushes."

Taira tipped her head slightly to one side. What was this 'threw up' business?

"The thing that helped most was having more. We're near a good patch now—want to come with me?"

Paddy tensed. "No, thanks. I've got a splitting headache." He closed his eyes.

"I'll get some for you." The Dog's expression turned calculating, eyeing Paddy with a touch of suspicion. Taira felt her stomach jolt nervously.

"No, thanks. It was good to try for once, but I'm not a fan of this morning's effects," said Paddy lightly, forcing a smile.

"It goes away the more you use it, it's just having to get used to it that's unpleasant," cajoled the Dog.

"Honestly, no," repeated Paddy.

"We'll be stopping off there to harvest some more, after so much was eaten last night. You can browse then."

"Oh, all right," Paddy capitulated at last, and the horrid feeling in Taira's stomach increased.

They roused everyone else, and after a short but merry breakfast went on their way, Taira staying a safe distance behind. Paddy did not distinguish himself as the shining beacon of amusement of the party that day; he remained largely silent until they reached the 'good patch' the Dog had spoken of, at which point he perked up and plunged into it. Taira turned away, now hating the smell.

When they continued on, Paddy's muzzle was green again, and his expression bright. He lagged behind a little, and Taira grew close enough that when the wind changed she got a whiff of his scent; it was, surprisingly, almost free of the plant, baffling her. There should have been more clinging to him, with the amount he had clearly consumed just now. Unless... he only pretended to.

Paddy, Taira decided once again, did not make sense.

When they stopped for the night, Paddy went wandering, sometimes so close to Taira that she could hear his whispers.

"Aslan. Aslan help me, I've lost her."

But he did not look for her, and his sense of smell, apparently, was still nonexistent.

In Taira's opinion, it jolly well served him right to worry a little.

She was more aware of herself than she had ever been before during a dream. She could feel the grass under her paws, and breathed the air, grassy with a hint of strangeness. As she hopped forward, someone said something admiring, but she didn't catch what.

Then hands, large capable ones, grasped her and picked her up. In that moment she realised she was far smaller than usual, as if she had returned to childhood. She began to struggle, kicking out with her back legs in a sudden panic.

"Calm down, Munchkin," said a child's voice, as she felt solid ground again.

Well, not ground. Someone's lap.

It was a girl-child, younger than Queen Lucy, with darker blonde hair and a wide-eyed expression as she cooed at her, then ran her hand over her back; it was unexpectedly soothing. The young Rabbit relaxed, idly wondering if she could talk here, since she suspected it was impossible in the place the Four had come from. For a while she just sat, feeling childish hands stroke her, and bathed in love.

"I wish you could talk," confided the girl.

("But I can," she longed to reply.)

"Jill, it's time for her to go back in her pen," said an adult's voice, and once again she was picked up and returned to the grass. As it touched her paws, the world twisted, and she was expecting the end of the dream.

Someone was carrying her in a small cage, the world bright. The slight bouncing motion made her feel odd, and bracing herself for anything. Then she saw a familiar face.

Their gazes connected, and the girl paused. "Hello," whispered Lucy. "You could talk, couldn't you, if you wanted to."

She was helpless in her cage, but twisted her head to watch Lucy out of sight, and caught an even lower whisper from the Queen who had so gravely greeted her.

"Lion go with you, little one."

The boy's face nearly touched her own as he stared intently at her through the bars.

"Harold, I want a rabbit," he said in a bossy voice.

"We don't have time for this, Eustace Clarence. Besides, it's not hygienic," said Harold sharply. "Come on, let's go."

Eustace Clarence removed his face from near hers with a flash of reluctance in his blue eyes, and turned to accompany the adult. His trailing fingers, hidden from Harold's watchful gaze, brushed her nose in a kind of farewell, and the dream broke and reformed again.

Something whistled through the air, right next to her, and she jumped as it slammed into the ground to her left. Twisting around, she had begun to bolt when a voice scythed through the air from a long way away, one she recognised as that of King Edmund.

"Oh, I'm sorry, small friend, I did not see you there." He was holding a bow, and one of his arrows was rather too close for comfort. "Please, take your time."

She glanced at him, and hurried away anyway, not wanting to disturb the young King's archery.

A book lay forgotten on the ground. It looked neat and compact, the print so small she could scarcely read it. Leaning up close she got the phrase fearfully and wonderfully, before a voice exclaimed behind her, "Don't tell me you're reading my book, rabbit."

She scurried out of the way and fled, looking back in time to see Queen Susan, her face averted, pick up the book and slam it shut, bitter sorrow in every line of her figure.

"Oh, Aslan, why."

The young Rabbit could not answer her half-spoken question, but her throat ached with sadness as the dream changed once more.

There was a sword pointing directly at her eye, and she instantly went tharn.

"All right, Pevensie," jeered the holder of the sword. "Swear you won't tell on us, or you know what'll happen." He gestured towards her.

"We might save the critter if you don't tell on us."

"What you're doing is wrong." Peter's voice trembled with indignation. "Smoking is—is forbidden for a reason! You know what'll happen if you get caught."

"That's why you mustn't tell." He jabbed, so that the cold point touched her fur. "You care about animals, don't you? Want this one run through?"

"You do know I'm better with a sword than you, don't you?" asked Peter in a stifled sort of voice.

"Ha! You've barely started fencing," said the boy threatening her. "How about we fight, and if you win, you can tell, otherwise, you can't."

"It's a deal," said Peter shortly, and fetched his sword, a light thing for fencing, rather than the heavier Narnian swords she had once seen a depiction of.

"If Pevensie cheats," ordered the boy, "break that rabbit's neck."

She began to slowly relax. High King Peter would not lose. Nor would he cheat. She was in safe hands.

"Ready, three, two, one," announced someone else, and on one Peter's opponent struck.

Peter had been ready in a defensive stance, so his point barely moved as he blocked the unfair strike.

"Go."

On that, Peter sprang forward in a whirlwind of blows, lacing his opponent in a cage of steel before flicking his rapier contemptuously from his hand. It clattered loudly to the floor.

"We said best of five," said the other, sullenly, clearly infuriated that he had lost so quickly. Peter did not contest it, instead waiting for the start of the next round. This time he was more gentle, playing with him for a while and allowing him to get into his stride, before easily disarming him.

"That's two."

"C'mon, Jackson!" cheered the boy now in charge of making sure the rabbit did not get away. "And, Pevensie, mind that if you win, it was only Jackson you were allowed to tell about."

"If I win I get that rabbit safe," said Peter shortly, his breathing apparently unchanged by the bouts. "Otherwise, I will still win unless he wins three in a row."

The third bout started. This time Jackson slashed at Peter's legs, but Peter whipped them out of the way like a dancer and pushed fiercely forward, sending Jackson back step by step until he was against the wall.

At which point Jackson evaded Peter's jab and thrust directly at his face, his expression showing deadly intent.

Peter whacked it out of the way with a force that jerked it from the other boy's hand and sent it clattering across the floor even more loudly than the first, then placed his point to Jackson's chin. "Do you give up?"

Jackson looked sullen. "Whatever. Get that needle away from my head."

Peter sheathed his sword, the movement easy, and came and picked her up gently. She liked the care with which he handled her.

"So." He glanced around the group of boys. "I will have to inform the Head about what you've been doing, I'm afraid."

Once outside, he set her lightly down on the grass. "So long, little one, and Aslan go with you." And the world shifted again.

A woman was sitting in the woods, carefully sketching, while a squirrel complained loudly about her. She kept looking at it, so she was probably using it as her subject.

Meanwhile the little Rabbit observed her a few steps away.

She recognised her as the woman who had occasionally met with the Four and the Professor, the one they had called varyingly Miss Plummer and Polly, depending on who it was addressing her.

The squirrel threw a nut at Polly and scampered away.

She laughed. "Bother! You should have stayed longer, what will I draw now?"

Then her gaze alighted on the Rabbit nearby, and she whispered, "You'll do."

She sat very still, just watching Polly, until at last the woman carefully closed her sketchbook, gravely thanked her, and left.

This time, she couldn't move. She was suspended, not uncomfortably, in an upright position, one paw stretched out in a very human-like manner. It was a dark bronzy colour, rather than her usual white. Looking at her was the Professor himself. His fingertips lightly brushed her head in a caressing motion.

"I remember the day I got you," he said, in a manner that seemed like he frequently told her this. "In a tiny little shop with all sorts of wonderful animals, and I looked around—truly I was looking for something to remind me of Fledge—and you looked back at me, and I fell in love. You look just like Mrs Rabbit, who came and greeted me just after Aslan made them talk."

If she had not been unable to move already, she would have frozen in shock, as the dream shattered into a thousand pieces.

Taira awoke, shaking her head vigorously. Whether it was the result of her troubles, or weariness, or what, it had been the strangest collection of dreams she had yet experienced. She had been there, and they had noticed her. She wasn't sure what that meant.

Very close to her lay Paddy, asleep. He looked younger and more uncertain in sleep, the lines softened, and she felt a pang of guilt at having upset him as she had. Still, he did not know where she was at present, and had clearly assumed she had chosen her own path. And for both their sakes, she would keep it that way on the journey to Cair Paravel.

Once they reached Cair Paravel, though, she more than suspected she would have no idea what to do next. She'd got away from home successfully, and so far evaded any other alyen. But once with the tairen, what did she, Taira, have to offer them? What would she do?

The sky was growing light, and she huddled back into her hideout as Paddy began to stir, unexpected dread making her heart race.

Fun fact: rabbits cannot vomit. Other fun fact: Munchkin is the name of my rabbit.

I hope I got the prompt in okay. Don't think too hard about what it implies. :P Also, it caused my word count to kind of go crazy, sorry.

I hope you like this chapter, and please review! Be brutal if necessary! It feels a bit of a weird chapter, like I'm not sure where I'm going... I actually am, surprisingly, at least I have one more major event that will be shoehorned in somehow and it will then be revealed what those words mean, and where I got the inspiration from. Any guesses, though?

Also my internet was terrible which accounts for this far later than usual reply. Sorry.