The cub climbed an elm tree on the border of his family's home. He was looking for new places to go in his upcoming tournament of hide-and-seek—the one where he'd beat his older brothers and sisters to the best spots, thank you very much. And that's when he found it. A pile of rocks with a crevice big enough to get himself through. It was in a thicket of woods off the beaten paths of the forest, and no one would think to look for him there.
There was one tiny problem.
He couldn't go there.
"The woods out there are full of bad Narnians," said his father. "If you go out there alone, they'll try to hurt you, or kill you if they're bold enough. Just stay out of there. There's nothing to see."
Oh, bother all that, said the cub. I'm going. And I'll be the hide-and-seek champion of Narnia.
The game began as the sun slipped behind the trees and the evening breezes whipped the leaves into a dance. The cub's little sister crouched against the trunk of a big oak tree and hid her face in her large paws, and she started to count in her tiny voice as he burst into a run.
The cub galloped along the creek, weaving between the gangling aspens and jagged rocks. As the bending creek began to straighten out, the trees grew taller all around him, and the woods grew darker and deeper, making everything look gray and gloomy. His gallop slowed to a trot, and a knot of fear started to tighten his throat. He thought about turning around, just to see the setting sun again and avoid a scolding from his father—but then he got another look at the hiding place, and his sister's voice drifted in on the breeze: "Ready or not, here I come!"
The cub threw his head over his shoulder and smirked. Try and find me. Ha! You'll be looking all night.
The opening in the rocks was shaped like a key, wider at the top than at the bottom. There was no getting through the bottom; it was barely big enough for a puppy. He had to jump and hope he leapt high enough to make it through. If he jumped too high, he'd bash his head and crumple into a heap, and he'd be an easy meal for the monsters of the wood. Too low, and he'd fall into the crevice and get stuck.
Can't turn back now, he said. A game you don't play is a game you don't win.
And he jumped like a coiled spring and leapt into the air, and the opening of the crevice rose up into view. He soared through it and saw the inside of a big tunnel. And as a smile lifted up his face, gravity began to take over.
The cub landed between the boulders, and his breath was squeezed out of his lungs. He kicked and thrashed, hoping he could lift himself out of the crevice, but his paws were too high off the ground. He tried to wiggle himself free, but he slid further down, and the rocks squeezed in around him. As his eyes got used to the dark, he saw something moving to his left, and his heart went into his throat.
It was a wolf.
The cub yelped and flinched, and he bashed his ribs against the rocks. He grunted and squirmed, and he tossed a paw through the air, but the wolf stood up on all fours and slunk up to him. "Aww, look at what we 'ave 'ere...a wee son of Aslan, gettin' 'imself stuck."
The cub thrashed and squirmed, and his paws kicked through the air. "I say! You think this is fun?"
"Oh, it's hilarious, laddie. It's not ev'ry day a Son of Aslan gets his arse stuck in a window."
The cub swung his head side to side. "A...A window?"
"Yeh. Big hole in the wall, lets the breeze through?"
The cub went still. He glanced to the right and saw the other end of the tunnel; it had plenty of room to get a wolf through.
"How fittin' that a Son of Aslan should get his arse stuck," said the wolf. "After all, that's where yer brain is at."
The cub glowered at the wolf. "What have you got against lions?"
"I've got plen'y. They're rude, arrogant, heartless, incredibly stupid. Wee bit like you, actually."
A nasty smile went up the cub's face. "You think I'm bad?" he said. "You're a Child of the White Bitch!"
The wolf stared darkly at him. "Whadya say to me?"
"You heard me. You're a nasty, dratty, flea-bitten, mouth-breathing Child of the White Bitch! I'll bet Maugrim was your great-great-great-great grandfather! Ten to one!"
A pause, and the wolf returned a nasty smile. "Ya know what I do to a little brat who calls me names?" he growled. "I leave 'im here. That's right. I leave 'im here, all alone in the big bad wood. And we don't call it the big bad wood for nothin'. This place is full o' nasty folk. Hags, ogres, minotaurs—the sort of folk who'd wanna take a bite outta yer arse."
The cub let in a shaky breath and gulped down a lump in his throat.
"Oh, but ya have nothin' to worry about, lad. They don't come out at night. Except when there's a full moon. But oh—there's gonna be a full moon tonight. Which means one of 'em's gonna come round. Might even stop here for the night. And given the condition yer in, ya wouldn't see 'em comin'. But don't worry. They're gonna kill ya quick. Well…summat. Actually, it's long and drawn out, and it's a wee bit painful. Ya see, they start with yer arse an' nibble their way up. Ah, well, good night, Son of Aslan. 'Cause it's gonna be yer last."
The cub let out a shudder. He put on a cocky smile, trying to look as brave as he could, but it fell away.
"Oh, all right," said the wolf. "God forbid I have a li'l fun with ya." He slid a paw underneath the cub's chest and pulled him out of the window, and he tossed him backward into the grass.
The cub landed with a squeak, then scrambled onto all fours. "I say! That was rude!"
"Ya bet it was. Now piss off!"
The lion cub scowled at the window, then waddled around the pile of rocks and stood at the mouth of the tunnel.
"Oi! I'm not going to piss off! I'm going to stay here as long as I like."
The wolf glared at him. "Ever heard of trespassin', ya li'l shite? It's against the law."
"Oh, bother you. I'm a Son of Aslan. I can go wherever I want."
"Not in my house, ya can't."
"Oh, really?"
"Oh, really. If ya don't leave by the count of three, I'm gonna howl."
"No, wait!"
"One—"
"Sir, don't!"
"Two—"
"Sir, please—" The cub caught himself, and he dropped his voice to a murmur. "I just want to win a game of hide-and-seek."
The wolf kept glaring at him, as if his scowl would make the cub go away. But the cub kept standing there and giving him sad eyes.
"Oh, all right," growled the wolf. "One round, and yer gone."
The cub bounded into the tunnel, and his cocky smile went up his face again. "My little sister's never going to find me here," he said softly. "She's gonna be crying for Mummy and Daddy."
The wolf glowered at him. "Yer gonna be a li'l monster when ya grow up, aren't ya?"
"No, I'm not. And even if I did, who cares? At least I'm not a Child of the White Bitch."
A frown darkened the wolf's face. "Do ya even know what a 'bitch' is?"
The cub's smile began to fall. "No."
"Do ya know what a Child of the White Witch is?"
"Well...no."
"Then why are you callin' me that?"
"Because I believe in calling people what they are. That's what my father always does."
"How can ya call me what I am," said the wolf, "when you don't even know what I am?"
"I know what you are, Sir. You're an enemy of Aslan."
"How do ya know?"
"Because you're a wolf. All wolves hate Aslan."
"Well, I don't. I don't think there was a White Witch, and I don't think there's ever been an Aslan."
The cub looked bewildered. "Are you barmy? Everyone knows there's an Aslan."
"How do ya know?"
"I just know!"
"Lucky you. I've never seen 'im. I've never met 'im. I've been hearin' eight-hundred-year-old stories of him, but none of 'em are comin' true."
Silence filled the cavern. The cub started glancing around, looking for the words to say.
"Ach...the script ran out, didn't it, laddie?"
The cub stared open-mouthed at him, then twisted his face into a scowl. "Oh, bother you. Ten to one you'd be happy if Aslan was dead. Guess what? Aslan is alive. And if you go on hating him, you're going to end up in the halls of Tash. That's why you'd better believe in Aslan if you know what's good for you."
"I cannae believe in 'im. I've been lookin' fer 'im since I was a pup, and I haven't found 'im."
The cub's face went cocky again. "Well, that's your fault, isn't it? You don't know all the old stories. You see, you're not supposed to go looking for Aslan. All you have to do is believe in him. If you believe in him, you die and go to Aslan's Country. But if you don't, you go to the halls of Tash. In fact, that's why Aslan sent me here. He wanted me to put the stories in your head so you'd believe them."
"I've been hearin' the stories for years, lad. They're gettin' less convincin' in the tellin'."
"That's not what happens to me," said the cub. "The more I hear them, the more I believe."
A hint of a smile lifted up the wolf's muzzle, as if a suspicion had been confirmed. "And why is that, laddie?"
"Because they're true."
"How do ya know they're true?"
"Because Aslan said so."
"What makes ya think he said so?"
"Because it's in all the old stories."
"What makes ya think any of 'em are true?"
"Well...because they are."
"Yer parents didn't tell ya why they're true?"
The cub felt even more awkward. "They just said to believe in Aslan."
The wolf sighed. "I'm not gonna think ill of yer folks. They're doin' what seems right to 'em. And maybe there really is an Aslan...but I just cannae believe it."
The smile on the cub's face was weak and uneasy, as if it were desperate to hang on to his face. "Well...yes, you can. Everyone has a choice."
"No, I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"No, I—" The wolf let out a pent-up breath and paused to think. "Let's say I believe in a Great White Dragon. Do ya believe it?"
"Of course I don't."
"Why don't ya?"
"Because there's an Aslan. There can't be a Great White Dragon if there's an Aslan."
"Ah, but what if I saw a Great White Dragon? What if I told ya he's the most incredible thing ya'd ever see?"
The cub frowned. "Lucky you. Well, I guess if you saw it, it's real."
"Wrong answer."
"So you're telling a lie?"
"Wrong answer."
"Well, then, you must be barmy."
"Wrong answer again," said the wolf.
"So what's the right answer? There's only three right answers: You're lying, or you're barmy, or you're telling the truth."
"Ah, but there's another answer: I could be wrong."
"So how could I know you're wrong?"
"Well, ya'd have to ask some questions. A Great White Dragon's not somethin' ya see every day, so ya'd ask me if there's any sign that there's a White Dragon."
"What kind of sign?"
"White scales, dead skin, treasure goin' missin', livestock gettin' eaten—a big white bat-like thing breathin' fire."
"Well, is there any of that?"
"There aren't any scales or skin layin' about. No one's missin' any treasure, far as I know."
"So why I should believe you?"
"Because ya'd be a fool not to believe."
"But I can't do that. There's no evidence."
"But ya have to."
"Why? Because you say so?"
"Because it's the truth. Ya have to believe in it."
"But I can't."
"Just believe it, laddie! Believe it with yer heart!"
"I can't, Sir!"
"Why not?"
The cub stammered, and his eyes dashed to and fro. "I...I just can't!"
Silence filled the den again, and the wolf nodded gravely. "That's why I don't believe in yer Aslan," he said. "I can't. After years of askin' and waitin', yer Aslan's never bothered to come round. That means he doesn't exist, or he's playin' hide-an'-seek."
The cub didn't answer. His mind raced to and fro, looking for something to say. He stood there and stared blankly into nowhere, waiting for the storm of thoughts and feelings to pass. "But it's Aslan!" he said. "He can't just be made up! And what about those stories? Why would anyone be writing them if they were all wrong?"
The wolf's face went even sadder. "I don't know, laddie."
The cub looked away and sat on his haunches. His eyes dashed about, as if looking for something to say. "But...that doesn't mean he isn't real."
"True enough. But if all we have are stories and they're not comin' true, why should I believe 'em?"
"Well...because...because he helps you be good. You can't be good without Aslan."
"That's not true, lad. Aslan doesn't make us do good, and the Witch doesn't make us do bad. It's a choice we make every single day."
"So why do you care about being good?"
"Because whenever we do somethin' bad, someone always pays fer it. If I killed a chap, I'd be makin' his family miserable. If I stole from someone, I'd be showin' 'em they can't trust me. If I spread rumors about King Darian, people would get the wrong idea of 'im, and all of Narnia could turn against 'im."
"But what if you get away with it?"
"Ya never do. When ya do somethin' bad, it hurts someone. I'll tell ya, lad: I don't wanna leave this world any worse for my bein' here. And I'll tell ya somethin' else: A bad choice doesn't only hurt the people around you. It hurts you—because every wrong choice makes the next one easier to make."
The cub scowled. "Oh, look at you, being all high and mighty. You think you're better than Aslan himself, don't you?"
The wolf stared sadly at him. "I'm no hero, lad. I'm not even the sort that my mum would be proud of. See, when I was old enough to get a respectable job, I couldn't keep it for longer than a month. I was always gettin' into scraps and gettin' drunk, which didn't do wonders for my reputation. Then I got a decent job by a bloke who was desperate to fill the post. Oddly enough, I was good at it. But I drank too much, and it caught up with me. I was so hung over that I missed work, and my employer let me go. Then one day, I heard about a post in Cair Paravel. It was a good job, one that I'd been wantin' fer years. First thing the next mornin', I was standin' at the head of the line. When they brought me in, I was asked if I believed in Aslan. I said no. Next thing I knew, they were showin' me the door. When I got home, I found out who got the post. It was a chap who believed in Aslan. He and I were just as good at what we did, and he had an even uglier past than I did...but they gave the post to him."
The cub's face fell. "That wasn't fair."
"No, it wasn't. But I didn't help matters any. I was so angry about losin' that job, I went to the tavern and got myself lit up. Whenever I thought of that bloke gettin' the job that I wanted, I wanted 'im dead. So I walked right out of that tavern, with a glass hangin' in my maw. I was gonna go up to 'im and bash it into his head. Before I got there, I saw King Darian ridin' on horse. It was that fiend who passed me over. I was so furious, I walked right up to him and flung the glass at his head. Ruddy thing missed him by a mile. He went after me and he caught me, then dragged my arse back to Cair Paravel and threw me in the dungeon. And I'll tell ya, lad—that was the best thing anyone had ever done fer me."
The cub's face went all confused. "Why, Sir?"
"Because up until then, I was always gettin' into fights and causin' trouble. Deep down I knew it would catch up with me, and it finally had. So I said to myself, 'Logan, yer gonna spend a year in here, a year ya could have been doin' good with yer life. So when ya get outta here, do all the good ya can to make up fer it.'"
The cub's mouth fell open. "You were in there a year?"
The wolf smiled sadly. "That's a price to pay fer a stupid choice, eh? Anyway, when my time was up, King Darian told me about a job in the Beruna courthouse. He said to me, 'Logan, if ya take this job and prove yerself to be a decent chap, yer gonna have a chance at somethin' better.' So I took it. It's not a job I was hopin' to get, but it's keepin' me outta trouble. And I can go to sleep at night knowin' I did somethin' good fer Narnia."
The cub went even more uneasy. "I didn't know, Sir..."
"Ya couldna. We'd only just met. But the point is, I'm no better than yer Aslan, and I reckon I'm no better than you. I didn't make good choices back then, and I'm not much better at it now. I mean, here I am, workin' fer a judge, and I'm scoffin' at ya with yer arse stuck in a window. I shouldn'a done that to ya."
The cub smiled and stood on all fours, wagging his tail. "It's all right. I reckon I had it coming, anyway. I was a little beast to you, and I ought to know about a chap before I start telling him what he's like. You're not so bad, especially for a Child of the White Bi—er, the White Witch."
Logan chuckled at him. "And you're a decent lad, for a cheeky little blighter." The wolf stood up on all fours and leaned back in a big stretch, then shook the dust out of his fur and started to pad out of the den. "Why don't we get ya home? Yer startin' to lose the light, and I reckon yer family's worryin' for ya."
The cub nodded and waddled up to the wolf, leading him down the bank of the creek. "Can I come round again? I'd fancy another long talk."
"Are ya sure, lad? I get the feeling ya weren't supposed to be out here."
He confirmed it with a look of wide-eyed worry.
"Tell ya what. If yer parents let ya come round, ya can. I don't want ya gettin' in trouble on my account."
The cub nodded and smiled up at him. "Yes, Sir—"
A huge voice boomed through the wood. "Elias!"
The two stopped in their tracks and went still. The cub's ears went flat against his head, and his tail ducked between his legs.
A huge lion trotted down the bank, his large paws thumping against the grass. His golden mane rippled with each step, and his big bronze eyes narrowed at the wolf. They stared for a moment, a tense silence settling over the glade, and the lion broke his gaze away and turned to Elias. "Where have you been?"
"I'm sorry, Dad—"
"I told you not to go out here!"
"I know, but—I-I just...I wanted to win a game of Hide-and-Seek."
"Well, you certainly did that. Your baby sister's scared for you, and you brother's about to start a search. If I hadn't found you, we would have been looking for you all night."
The cub bowed his head and drooped his ears. "I'm sorry, Sir."
The big lion let out a growl, but it was not at the cub. "What are you doing with this traitor?"
The cub's head jolted up. "Dad, he's all right. He's a real brick—"
"Didn't I tell you anything about the wolves?"
"Well, yes, but..." The cub quailed beneath his father's face. "Dad, he's really nice..."
"Of course he's nice. They all are. They lure the Sons of Aslan with smiles and smooth tongues, and when they've got your mind dulled down, they fill it with lies."
The cub's face twisted in confusion. "But Dad, you're always saying, 'People can change.' Why can't he?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the faintest suggestion of a smile on Logan's face.
"Wolves don't change," said the big lion. "They're traitors and scoffers. That's what they were during the reign of the White Bitch, and that's what they'll always be. Now come along. Let's leave this traitor to wallow in his misery."
"Ya know what? Yer unbelievable," said the wolf. "Ya've got everythin' ya wanted. The best land in the glade. A wife and cubs. The job at Cair Paravel. When are you ever going to be happy with your lot and give me common courtesy?"
"Dad!" said the cub. "You were the one who got the job?"
"Yes, I was," growled the lion, "and it was fortunate. I have a position in the highest house in the land, and I got to keep it out of the clutches of this ruffian."
"But he's not a ruffian anymore, Dad. Why can't you give him a chance? Couldn't you take him on as an apprentice and see what he does?"
"I'd never take him or any of his kind, Elias. And when you get a job, you won't, either. Now come along." The big lion started to swing away, and he shot the wolf a cold glare before turning his back.
"Judah, wait."
A tense pause filled the air, and the lion sighed and lifted his head over his shoulder.
"I want no quarrel with ya. I want no favor from ya. I've never done anything to hurt ya. Why cannae we be friends?"
Judah swung around and looked him in the face. "Because you're a Child of the White Bitch. You're a Son of Maugrim. You think you're better than Aslan, and you think you're smarter than the Kings and Queens of Old. Let me tell you something, fool: The second you breathe your last, you're going to regret that you ever defied him. He's going to throw you into the halls of Tash, where the night burns with everlasting fire. So I suggest you come to your senses and admit what you know in your heart. Otherwise, I will make it my personal mission to ensure that you never have any friendship with a true Narnian, and that you live in that den of yours for the rest of your life. And make no mistake: This is personal. If you're not with Aslan, you're against him. And if you're against him, you're against me."
"That's yer choice," said Logan. "Not mine."
Judah gave it no reply. He swung around and lumbered along the creek. "Let's go, Elias!"
The cub gave the wolf a sad stare, then turned away and followed his father. He knew what was coming: no hide-and-seek, no leaving the family den, no going off on his own for the next month, and a long lecture about the evils of the bad Narnians. And there was no way he'd get to go out and see the wolf again, no going out beyond the boundaries of his home until he was old enough to marry.
Maybe it was just as well.
Maybe there was nothing to see out here, anyway.
THE END
A/n: This story isn't the only time we get to know this lion cub. To see a scene from later in his life, check out "The Dinner Party."
