Gandalf had seen the two leave, and he murmured to himself, tapping his staff on the rock under him, the faun guard taking his post beside him again.
"Where are they going?"
"They are about to find Miraz's convoys, sir," the faun replied. He wouldn't mention it out of plain Narnian courtesy, but he found the wizard eccentric, if not to mention downright odd. However, he was not the cruel, cold kind–at least he was not of the same stock as the White Witch. He seemed harmless enough.
Gandalf, as far as the faun knew, was another of Caspian's aides who taught him more on the magical side. Miraz had the wizard as an honored guest, but the way it sounded it seemed as if Miraz was trying to keep Gandalf at arm's length. And according to more of what he'd heard from Aragorn, Gandalf was a bit less reserved than the esteemed Doctor that Caspian talked about so often and so fondly about.
"Can I help you with anything?" the faun asked.
"No, no," Gandalf responded, rising to his feet. "I believe you have much more pressing matters to take care of, hm?"
"Yes."
With that, the wizard disappeared back into the How out of the guard's view, then slunk away into the forest.
Susan blanched. She didn't want to leave, but she found she couldn't take another step, or do anything for that matter. She might as well be catatonic.
"My child," the voice said, beckoning her nearer.
"Aslan?" Her voice sounded distant and murky.
The trees trembled around Susan, to encourage her, their branches pushing her forward and through their leafy line up to the Lion standing in the clearing. She let herself be pushed around and she wiped her sweaty hands on her dress, tracing the ripped edge the cloth had after she'd cut it for Peter's dressings. "Aslan," she repeated, not knowing why. The name hung heavy and honey-sweet on her tongue.
"Susan." Aslan looked straight at her, and she fell to her knees of her own accord.
"I'm so sorry, Aslan, I never meant to—I believed it was you that time, but I wanted to get out of the woods and I know that you might be angry and..." Susan trailed off, realizing how absurd the things that tumbled out of her mouth sounded. Instead of trying to rationalize anymore, she sat down, silent, eyes turned down to the ground. She felt the heavy paw on her head, and bit her lip, trying to prepare for whatever would happen. That was it. She couldn't do anything, say anything. For so, so long she'd struggled to control everything, but now she found she'd controlled nothing.
"My daughter, come."
Lucy appeared out of the shadows, and she bounded up to Aslan, a shy expression on her face as she looked at Susan.
"It's quite all right, Susan," Lucy said. "Aslan isn't angry. He's a little disappointed, that's all."
Once Aslan put his paw off of her, Susan stood up, shaking. "I'm sorry, Aslan."
"You have listened to fears, child."
"I..."
"Come, let me breathe on you. Forget them." His breath, far from bitter, wafted memories back to Susan, happy memories not without fear but with absolute trust. Strength seemed to flow into her through Aslan's breath, and she nodded quite suddenly.
"I feel stronger now, Aslan." She wiped a few tears from her cheeks.
"Oh, Susan," Lucy said, coming over to her and throwing her hands about her waist. "See, Aslan isn't angry at you at all. And I'm not either," she added when she saw Susan about to open her mouth.
"Aslan," Susan said. "Would it have been better if, if I'd agreed with Lucy? Would it have been all right in the end?"
Instead of answering her, Aslan gave her a kindly look that returned her question back to her. She pressed her fists on her lap and took a light breath. "Then it would've been all right? It would've been better, then? Would Peter have been spared? Aslan—"
"My child, no one is given the privilege to know what could have been."
"But, Aslan..."
"However, it is not beyond anyone to know what may happen."
Even without Aslan saying it straight out, Lucy and Susan knew what they were supposed to do at once, and the thought of waking the others up and having them travel in the dark made their stomachs churn. Surely Peter would have a tough time climbing over rocks and moving in general, and Trumpkin could be a hard one to convince, with all his disbelief in the supernatural. Gimli could be easier to handle, but... "Susan," Lucy said, braking the silence between them. "We musn't think about it too much. We just have to do it."
"It's going to be hard," Susan moaned under her breath. "but for you Aslan, we'll do it."
"There is no more time to lose," Aslan said. "Legolas and Edmund have awaited your arrival for far too long."
Lucy and Susan perked up at the mention of the two boys. "Aslan, are they—?"
"Psst, Peter."
Susan bit her lip. It seemed so cruel, waking Peter up, knowing that his shoulder had probably bothered him all through the night and how lightly he slept once he could. Drawn features contorted as Peter winced, then focused bleary eyes on Susan. "What—What's going on?"
"I—We—Lucy and I, we saw Aslan."
"Aslan!" Peter jerked up, a shot of pain through his shoulder forcing him back down. His face blanched, but he looked around anxiously for Aslan. "Where?"
"Over there."
Trumpkin peered into the darkness and scoffed. "Ey, Gimli, d'you see anything?"
"No, only moonlight and forest. Lassie, you might've been dreaming. It's your worry for your brother, that is."
"No, no, he is there," Lucy insisted. "I know he is! Oh, please, please we have to go."
She turned to see Susan helping Peter onto his feet. Peter still had his eyes trained on where Susan had pointed to, squinting his eyes and trying to see Aslan. "But Susan, I can't see him. Where is he?" Although Peter himself was, deep inside, convinced, there was the other part of him that wondered if he was still dreaming. When he stumbled into Susan, though, his shoulder complained. Maybe not so much a dream.
Gimli was already on his feet, Peter's armor and a few more supplies on his back. He couldn't see Aslan yet, but something in him wanted to, though he wasn't so much sold on the idea quite yet. Intrigue had a hand to play in it as well.
"Come along, then," Trumpkin said. "I'd rather march than be kept here standing."
TBC...