Peter, Trumpkin and Gimli finished off whatever they could get from the bear's (ehm) carcass, they stuffed it in their pockets and called the girls back from where they'd ran off to escape the grisly job of tearing flesh and bone apart. If they felt less than pleased that they had to shove the queasy packages into their pockets, they didn't say anything-they'd known very well by this time that they'd feel more than a little thankful once they get hungrier later on.

Eventually they'd continued on, (Gimli, Trumpkin and Peter dipping their hands in the stream to wash off the leftover blood and slime from their finger) this time more cautiously but carefree enough to banter a little with each other. Everybody's spirits rose, and the stiffness from yesterday's rowing was slowly draining away.

After a few more hours, Gimli dared to ask, "Are we still going the right way?"

"Well, as long as we don't get too far left, we should be fine. The only thing that can go wrong by leaning too far to the right is hitting the Rush too fast and losing some time," Peter said. "We'll just cut off the corner."

And so on and on they plowed through the trees. Hours passed...

"Where is this Rush of yours, young man?" Gimli said. "Shouldn't we have been able to get there by now?"

Peter stopped and everyone else did, Susan peering up at the foliage above and Lucy sitting down on a rock to rest for awhile. "I really thought that we should've hit it by now." He looked around, lost. "Let's just keep on going," he added, ignoring Trumpkin's eyes burning into his back.

And still on they went, panting and groaning, their mail digging into their skin.

"What on earth?"

"What's going on up there, Peter?" Lucy asked. "What's wrong?"

"Don't tell me we're lost," Susan said. "Are we?"

They had come to the edge of a precipice, almost falling in. An inch and they might've plummeted down to the gorge, breaking their necks, and potentially being drowned by the river below. On the other side the cliffs rose even higher, and it was at this moment that most of them realized that none of them—except maybe Trumpkin—were rock climbers. Which obviously presented an obvious problem.

Peter turned to the small party. "I'm sorry. It's my fault for coming this way. We're... lost. I've never seen this place in my life at all."

Gimli coughed, then let out a small whistle.

"Oh, let's go back to where we started," Susan hissed. "I knew we were going to get lost in these woods somehow."

"Susan! Don't nag Peter like that," Lucy said. "He's doing all he can, can't you see?"

Trumpkin puffed on his pipe and shook his head. "Tubs and tortoiseshells!" If we had this much trouble getting here, then what use is it trying to get back? If we're lost now, then what chance have we of finding our way back?"

"Well, if we suppose that we could go there, hmm..." Gimli thought for awhile. "We won't be able to get to your Caspian in time–and it's our aim to get to him as soon as possible, yes? We'll waste precious time."

Everyone picked a stone to sit while thinking, Susan picking at the grass in front of her. The sun filtered down beautifully through the foliage, which went unappreciated by all except Lucy.

"I believe that Your Highness is not lost..." Trumpkin said after a while.

"What do you mean?" Susan asked.

"In what way is this not the Rush, your Majesty?"

Peter huffed. "The Rush is not in a gorge," he said, understandably annoyed.

"Yes." Trumpkin proceeded cautiously. "But you have known Narnia from hundreds of years ago. Couldn't it have changed? Let's say a landslide pulled the whole cliff over on this side, and that would be our precipices here. Then the Rush might've gone deeper and deeper every passing year till you get the smaller juts of rock over here. Or there could've been an earthquake, for all we know."

"I never thought of it that way."

"And even if this is not the Rush, it's flowing readily north, after all, so it must fall into the Great River later on. Maybe not as high as we expected, but no more worse off than when you'd come my way."

"Well, then, that settles it. We're going down–"

A cry came from Lucy as she swirled to look at the other side of the gorge. "Look! Look! Look!" she said in a voice trembling not with fear, but with expectation. "It's Aslan!"

"Aslan?" Trumpkin repeated.

"Where?" Gimli asked, straining his eyes to see.

"Over there! Didn't you see?"

"My eyesight's not the best, lassie. Peter, do you see it?"

"Him. And no, I didn't."

Susan stood, a different expression on her face. "Where did you think you saw him?"

Lucy stamped her foot. "I didn't think I saw him–I did."

"Where did it–he–was at?" Gimli asked.

"Right up between those mountain ashes. No, this side of the gorge. And up, not down. He wanted us to go there."

"How did you know that was what he said?"

Flushing red, Lucy shook her head. "I—I just do—by his face. Oh, let's go up–he wants us to."

The others exchanged anxious expressions with each other, puzzled and confused. Each wanted to say something, but held it back partly because they were apprehensive of what the others would say. ...And partly because of Lucy, who looked two parts anxious and angry.

"Her Majesty may well have seen a lion," Trumpkin finally said. "There are lions in these woods, or so I've been told. But it needn't have been a friendly and talking lion any more than the bear earlier was."

"Oh, don't be so stupid!" Lucy was turning a slight shade of red. "I know Aslan when I see him."

"He'd be a pretty elderly lion by now, if he was the same one you know from years ago! And if it was, then who's to say he hasn't grown wild like all the others?"

Lucy turned crimson, her muscles tensing, gaze piercing through Trumpkin. She started to stamp towards Trumpkin, only stopped by Peter and Gimli.

"Lass, lass, we have enough to worry about now," Gimli said, not wanting to offend Lucy but not quite wanting to believe in what she was saying too hastily as well.

"The D.L.F doesn't understand. How could he?" Peter then turned to Trumpkin, whose face had turned ashen. "You mustn't talk about Aslan like that–you have to believe that we know a little bit about Aslan. The only question is whether he was really there or not."

Lucy pulled on her clothes anxiously, eyes brimming with tears. "But I know he was."

"Well, we didn't Lucy, so you'd better gather yourself up," Susan said. "Let's vote."

"Yes, that should be how we should settle this." Peter turned to Trumpkin. "All right, D.L.F, what do you say?"

"Down. I know next to nothing about Aslan. But if we follow your way, Queen Lucy, it might take us the whole day to find a way to cross it–and time is of the essence. If we want to get to the River as soon as possible, we should go down. And if there are lions, we want to go away from them, not towards."

"Susan?"

"Down," Susan said. "I'm sorry, Lu, but... we're all exhausted. None of us saw anything but you, after all."

"Gimli?"

"I suggest we follow Her Majesty. I see that there may be truth in her eyes, and following her may turn out to be the better, if it is Aslan who is there."

Lucy popped up–someone was on her side, and she could almost cry with relief. "Thank you, Gimli!"

"Now, it's your turn, Peter," Susan said. "And you'd better–"

"Oh shut up shut up shut up," Peter said rather hastily. "Let one think. Aughh, I'd rather not vote at all."

"But you are the High King," Trumpkin pointed out.

Silence.

Peter gave a deep sigh and turned to Lucy. "I'm so sorry, Lu, but I can't help it. We're going down. It's a shame that we can't do both. Plus, if we go down and get to Caspian sooner, we might just find Legolas and Edmund."

So they went off downstream, Lucy crying bitterly, Gimli's arm wrapped around her shoulder.

If at first it seemed easy to traverse the path, they soon found it more difficult than they had expected to keep to the edge than they first imagined. Before they had gone very far they encountered a young fir wood, which pushed them farther and farther away from the river than any of them wanted, and out of fear that they might get lost, they returned to a more convenient path, still near the Rush.

They rested for only a while, then went on again.

It might've been wisdom to stay near the river, since if they took to the forest near the top they would surely have lost their way, even if it didn't take a Calormene sentry to drive them away. A lot of things would keep on blocking your path, making you trip and stumble through the underbrush and leaving you even more exhausted than before.

Alas, this didn't mean that going along the gorge of the Rush was any more pleasant to traverse.

It was awful, especially for people who were in a hurry to get to a certain Aslan's How and who happened to be exhausted and tired and missing a proper bed and meals. As they looked over them they saw one or two eagles or hawks (they could never be sure), and made their way through deep moss and past waterfalls, which would have delighted a casual picnic observer. Not so to a group of five trying to get to Caspian and who were praying for Beruna and the path to the Aslan's How.

And on and on they went.

TBC...