Chapter 8: News From the Western Woods

Squinting as my eyes adjusted to the late afternoon sun, I made my way out of the tent and back into the main camp, following Oreius as he solemnly clopped across the grass. Sebastian scampered by the Centaur's side, his little body zigzagging down the path like a jagged bolt of furry chestnut lightning as he struggled to restrain his excitement. Whatever it was he had to tell us, it was obviously important.

Life-changing, perhaps.

Oreius stopped at the bottom of a grassy mound with a large crimson and gold tent staked to the top. Stamping a front hoof as he shifted his weight, he turned to face us, a strange, almost apprehensive gleam in his stern brown eyes.

"Wait here," he said, the sturdy thud of his hooves fading towards the top of the hill. For a moment he stopped in front of the tent, pulled back a flap, and stuck his head in, sprouting a small conversation with the inhabitant. Then he backed up, looked at me and Sebastian, and waved us over. I swallowed.

Though I knew I had his trust and his mercy, meeting with the Lion was always a little nerve-racking. To this day, it still is.

Sebastian scampered through the grass, his tail bouncing and twitching with a fresh wave of spastic excitement, but stopped to collect himself before he went in. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and followed, Oreius closing the tent flaps behind us.

Aslan stood behind a dark cherry wood table between Rhydian and Geraint, who, judging from their slightly disheveled appearances, had been in some sort of a skirmish.

"...and we trapped them by the Fords and wiped the patrol out," Rhydian explained quickly, his voice deep and urgent as he pointed to a location on the map with a gloved hand. "We don't know if there are any more scouts, but all that we saw, we made sure didn't escape."

Aslan nodded. "You have done well, young one," he replied calmly. As soon as he spoke, warm peace flooded my senses in one continuous wave, and any qualms I had about being there melted away. "Had they been allowed to get any closer, things could have been far worse. How did you find them?"

Rhydian and Geraint turned and looked at me, proud smiles stretched across their tired faces. "Renn?" they asked in unison.

I nodded. "One of the Wolves was in the brush behind the archery range," I quietly reported. "And I accidentally shot him."

"And good thing you did, too!" Sebastian chirped. "Or I would have been the brute's lunch! Saved my life, she did!"

Rhydian and Geraint stared at me with pleasantly surprised expressions, and I shifted bashfully. I've never been one for an excess amount of praise.

Aslan's face softened as he chuckled. "Welcome, Sebastian," he said, his gentle face smiling as the Squirrel sprang up onto the table.

"Obliged, my lord! Very much obliged! But... I believe I may have been what drew them here, Your Majesty. You see, I've been carrying a very important piece of information from the Western Woods." The Squirrel's body twitched with suppressed excitement. "And until I saw them with my own eyes, I hardly believed what I had heard!"

"Heard what?" Geraint asked.

Aslan's face glowed knowingly.

"Well, it just so happens that this might be—"

"Spit it out!" Rhydian laughed.

"Apologies!" Sebastian said hastily. "It's just—" He took a deep breath in an effort to control his whirling excitation. "Your Majesty," he sighed, turning to Aslan. His little brown eyes smiled as he pressed his small white paws together in an effort to slow himself down. "They are here," he said purposely. "The Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve."

My jaw dropped. Rhydian and Geraint exchanged shocked, relieved glances.

"I saw them in the Western Woods!" he exclaimed, dancing all over the table in spastic bursts. "In Beaversdam! They're here! They've come! Two Sons of Adam, and two Daughters of Eve! Just as the prophesy says!"

Oreius straightened. "Finally," he said, a hopeful gleam in his stern eyes as a smile stretched across his face. "Finally."

"They should be here in a few days!" Sebastian exclaimed. He turned to the Lion. "Shall I spread the news?" he said, looking up at Aslan expectantly.

Aslan nodded. "Of course."

The Squirrel bounded off into camp, trumpeting his message to any and all who would listen. Soon, a commotion rose outside, and the whole camp became ecstatic.

Aslan turned to me. "You have my thanks, little one," he said. "Without you, the scouts' presence could have gone unknown, and we may have never received this news."

I shifted coyly, raising my green eyes to meet Aslan's. His face softened, and his eyes smiled.

"Go on," he said, chuckling. "Spread the news. We must prepare for their arrival."

My brothers and I nodded respectfully, and we all moved out.

Geraint was rendered silent, and his own hopeful imagination whisked him into a daydream. He stared at his feet, his fingers tracing over the intricate carvings on his bow.

Rhydian grinned. "I wonder what they will be like," he nearly sighed, his eyes fixed on the setting sun.

I felt myself smiling. "Like everything we could have ever hoped for," I breathed. "Think of it. Once they arrive, we'll be free in a matter of weeks. If I were the Witch, I'd be shaking in my boots right now!"

Rhydian's face lit up, and a ghost of a satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of Geraint's lips.

"If only Father were here to see this," Geraint said wistfully, slinging his bow onto his back. He looked down at me. "I know he'd be proud."

"Especially of you two," I grinned, and I meant it.

Rhydian scoffed good-naturedly. "He knew Geraint and I were fighters from the start, Renn. It was never us he was worried about. He feared for you. That if something were to happen, that... that you wouldn't be able to defend yourself, or you'd not be strong enough to hold anyone off if you were attacked." He pulled me into a big bear hug. "But I think if he could see you now, he'd change his mind. You've overcome a lot."

"Rhydian, we all have," I insisted. "When we got here, neither of you could really fight, and now look at you. You're both warriors. Fine soldiers. I think even General Otmin would have a bad day if they crossed either of the two of you. But if he charged me? He'd run through me as if I were a blade of grass!"

"He's Otmin, Renn," Geraint pointed out. "He does that to everyone."

Then tent flaps behind us opened.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I want to fight, Geraint, like you and Rhydian. On the battlefield. For Father and for Narnia. But it seems as if that's the one thing I'll never do. My... accomplishment... was an accident, and only that. No matter what anyone says. I doubt I could do it again." I turned my palms up, looking back and forth at them and remembering how they glowed in the dimly lit healers' tent. "Finding the scout, finding Sebastian, saving Sebastian—"

"What do you mean, saving Sebastian?"

"She saved his life," Oreius suddenly said from behind us. "None of the healers were present, so she took matters into her own hands. She healed him herself. I'm glad I was there to witness it."

I heard his hooves pad through the grass, and his long body wheeled to face me.

"Aslan has heard of your talent, Renn," the Centaur continued. "I told him myself. He was very pleased. So pleased, in fact, that he has called upon our chief healer to instruct you. You will meet with her in the morning."

"Morning?" I asked. I tapped my quiver. "But that's when—"

"I know. You've been relocated. You're to go to the healers' tent and meet with Bronwyn in the morning."

I fought to keep my face from falling. I'd hit that target, hadn't I? I was improving, wasn't I? Only to have them move me the day I finally did something right? It made no sense!

Finally, I nodded, my face hardening with suppressed disappointment and frustration.

"Good," Oreius said. He turned to my brothers. "And I will be seeing the two of you in the morning, as usual. Until then."

With a swish of his long, black tail, the general plodded away into the deep of the camp. My shoulders sagged.

"I guess I should be getting some rest, then," I said, and a bit more curtly than I would have liked. I spun on my heel and briskly made my way towards our tent.

"Renn!" Geraint called.

I stopped, frowned, and spun around, raising my eyebrows in question.

"Remember what I told you. There're more ways to fight than just fighting. You never know. This could be yours."

I scoffed. "I don't want it to be mine, Geraint," I snapped, turning on my heel and almost jogging to our tent. Once inside, I angrily threw off my quiver, bow, and one-handed sword and shoved them into a corner.

All I wanted to do was fight for Father. March to the front lines with my brothers. Be there when the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, who were now just days away from us, took back Narnia from the icy clutch of winter. I didn't want to hear about it from the inside of a tent. I wanted to see it! Brandish a sword and battle for it myself! And now...

Now, more than ever, it seemed I would never be able to.

Slowly, I went to the washbasin and wiped the dirt and grime from my skin. Slipping into one of Rhydian's oversized tunics to sleep in, I crawled into my hammock and stared at the ceiling, my eyes tracing the gold-threaded patterns in the tent-fabric until I could close them and still see the shapes. Finally, I rolled over and tried to will myself to sleep, but with bottled up anger and regret for having snapped at Geraint gnawing at the back of my mind, I guessed I wouldn't be resting at all tonight. Which would make that dreadful next morning even more painful.

Unless...

Suddenly, I sat up, an idea springing to the forefront of my mind. Slowly, I started to smile.

I glanced at the forlorn recurve in the corner.

If I could wake before the boys, before the sun really began to rise, then maybe, just maybe, before I went to the healer, I could slip down to the archery range unnoticed...