Hey! Thanks for the reviews! Here's...

Chapter 5

A little while later, we're all sitting on a red-and-black checkered blanket, enjoying a simple but delicious meal of bread, cheese, fruit, and fresh milk. Running my fingers through the sweet, Narnian grass at my side - which does somehow seem better than normal Earthian grass - and looking around at the Pevensies, the camp, the beings in the camp, I can't help growing this huge, cheek-splitting smile. Being here in this other land, it all feels like a fairytale. Like the best day of my life. Like I'm living in a fantasy novel, or I've died and gone to Heaven.

If only I could forget that we're about to go to war, and that, in it, I might actually die.

But for now, I will forget. Edmund and I are practically starved, so we fill our plates to the max and stuff our faces with as much as they can hold. Lucy takes one look at us and our chipmunk cheeks before she bursts into giggles. "Narnia's not going to run out of cheese, you two!"

I gulp down what's in my mouth, laughing along with her. Then Edmund joins in, then Peter and Susan, too, until we're all laid out on the blanket, guffawing at the tops of our lungs and trying not to choke on our food.

It wasn't that funny, of course, but I guess we needed an emotional release or something. Life has, after all, been quite the whirlwind recently. From what Edmund said, they've gotta be as confused as I am, if not more. They are supposed to rule this country.

Being a princess sounds like a lot of fun. Being a queen just sounds like a lot of responsibility.

I don't really do a lot of responsibility, at least not that much, so I guess that's why they're here to fulfill the prophecy, and I'm not.

"If you like the food so much," Peter interrupts my thoughts, "I'm sure they'll pack some for you to take when you go back."

Once again, we all stop eating. "Go back?" Edmund exclaims, and Lucy frowns, saying at the same time, "We're going back?"

"You three are. You, too, Zaylie." His eyes flash up from the picnic blanket, somehow fixing all four of us with his gaze at one time. "I'm going to stay here and help them fight. When we're finished, I'll come back through the wardrobe."

Susan shakes her head. "No, Peter. They need us. All four – five – of us. We can't go back. Not until we've all helped here."

Peter shakes his blonde hair just as hard as his sister did. "Susan, it's too dangerous for children."

"I'm not a child!" Not helpful, I know, but my mouth blurted it out before my brain could tell it not to.

Peter's cool, blue eyes land on mine, and I realize how much I feel like a child under his gaze. He really would make a great king. "Well, how old are you?" he asks.

I don't want to say; I know it'll only reinforce what he said. "Thirteen."

Peter turns back to Susan, eyebrows raised a little as if to say, See?

"Well, how old are you anyway?" Yes, I know. A petty and childish response. Honestly, I couldn't help myself. And I am only thirteen.

"Sixteen." He replies, almost smugly, like he's about to add 'so there.' "And Susan's fifteen," he goes on. "That's why she has to go back and take care of you three."

"Well..." I raffle through my brains for an excuse. I'm supposed to be the one keeping them all together, and I cannot already be failing at my job. "The Narnian prophecy speaks of all four of you, and, for some reason, somewhere, I'm supposed to fit in, too. None of us can turn our back on them or it won't work. Besides," I add the last bit of reasoning that just popped into my head, "Your wardrobe return to your time in England. I'm American, born nearly seventy years after you four came through." Everyone's jaw drops but Edmund's. "That's right." I nod, like it's no big deal. "So I'm staying right here." To punctuate, I chomp a large bite out of a hunk of bread and cheese.

"I'm not leaving either," Edmund pipes up.

"Nor am I," Lucy chimes decisively.

"Well, I guess that settles it," Susan says. She smiles over at Peter – more of a smirk, actually – as she rises and brushes the crumbs from her beautiful, green dress.

"Where are you going?" Peter calls after her.

Susan swings her dark hair over her shoulder, smirking once more and holding up a bow and quiver of arrows. "To get in some practice."

I watch as she strides off, closely followed by a laughing Lucy. Chewing the last bite of my food and licking my fingers, I smile to myself. First mission accomplished.

I blink open my eyes, yawning and stretching and shaking off the leftover grogginess. Glancing up, I see sunlight filter through a sheet of crimson cloth.

I grin. Still in Narnia.

My plan to bolt off the cot and race outside is promptly thwarted by a painful stiffness in my legs and rear end. I wince, hobbling around the room a few times, hoping a little exercise will stretch my muscles and get them working properly again. As I limp, I shake my head. Seriously, this is what I get for riding a horse? That great experience people are always talking about? I'm really not sure I see the appeal.

But I do understand the invention and the appeal of motor vehicles. Seriously, some Narnian needs to invent those.

After the walking and a little stretching, my legs feel a bit better, so I go over to the outfit Susan left for me and slip it on. I smile, running my fingers over the soft blue fabric of the Narnian dress. It's a bit big – I think it was actually meant for Susan - but it's absolutely beautiful. With a slightly fitted bodice, long sleeves, and flowy skirt, this gorgeous gown looks like something you'd see in a Medieval drawing. Honestly, I can't believe it's considered normal, everyday wear here. If I had a dress like this at home, I'd never wear it. Except to prom, maybe. If I could get a date.

When I'm dressed, I duck out of the tent, my eyes already searching in the mid-afternoon sun. "Zaylie! Over here!" I turn towards the voice, wave back at Lucy, and walk stately over to the Queens, careful not to trip on the hem of my dress. Before us are four targets, all set up in a row, and my eyes widen at the string of arrows, every one within inches of the bullseye. "Whoa," I turn to Susan. "Have you ever taken archery before?"

She nods. "A little. Back home, Dad taught me a few of the basics." A shadow crosses over her face, and I remember what Edmund said about them being from the 1940's. Maybe her dad's a soldier in the war.

I'm about to say something – try some sort of consolation – but she continues before I can get a single syllable out. "I need some more practice, though."

"More practice!" I scoff, glad for the change of subject. "Those are all near bullseyes!"

She shrugs, lifting the bow again. "Near won't win the war."

"True." I nod slowly. "But it's not like you're an expert or anything. I think you're doing pretty good, especially for a relative beginner. You could cut yourself some slack."

She lowers the arrow, and her and her sister stare at me until I realize why and add, "Cut some slack. It means give yourself a break; don't be so hard on yourself."

"Oh." Susan turns back to the target, shooting another near bullseye. "Well, unfortunately Zaylie, I don't have time to not be hard on myself. We'll be going to war in a few days, and I am fairly certain that the White Witch will not be going easy on us."

I let out a small laugh at her warrior-queen attitude, but I can't argue with it. "You're probably right," I admit. "I'd better get in some practice myself."

"There's another bow over there." Lucy points, and I glance over, nodding my thanks as I pick up the bow and the quiver of arrows laying beside it. The Pevensie sisters watch as I yank a few of Susan's arrows from the targets and prepare to fire my own.

I close my eyes, wrap my fingers around the lower part of the bow, and let my breath out in a careful exhale. Relax, my archery instructor always says. Concentrate.

Relaxing and concentrating. Two things I've never been so great at. Still, I feel a calmness, a stillness of perfect relaxation and concentration as I focus on the target. Inhale, exhale...

Let it free.

Twang! I let the arrow fly, grinning win it hits the target. A perfect bullseye.

"Yes!" I squeal, jumping up and down and almost tripping over my dress. I've only got a bullseye like once. And I'm pretty sure that time was total chance.

Susan's eyes are way wide when I turn back to her. "Can you teach me to do that?"

I shrug. "No promises, but I can try. Here, can I see your bow?"

She nods, and I take it in my hands, showing her how she's holding the weapon and how I'm holding it at a slightly higher angle. "I think you have to bring your arm up just a little bit and pull back like this." I give it back to her, nudging her elbow into place, and say, "Now, let it go."

Twang! Bullseye! "I did it!" Susan turns to me, beaming like a kid Lucy's age. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"Oh, I was taking lessons back in 2013." Back in 2013. That sounds so weird.

Lucy cocks her head a little, staring up at us both. "Why?"

"Just for fun." I shrug. "And, well, I wanted to be like Katniss Everdeen."

"Katniss Everdeen?" Susan asks, stringing up another arrow the way I showed her and hitting another bullseye.

"She's this character in this book, won't be out for another like eighty years or so. But she was really cool. Practically my role model."

"Cool?" Lucy asks me.

"Um... She was a person I wanted to be like."

"Oh," she says. Then, looking over at Susan, "Guess what, Su? I think you're cool."

The older sister smiles down at the younger. "Yeah, well, you're rather below room temperature yourself."

I hold in a laugh at their twist on the expression. I've gotta use that "below room temperature" one sometime.

Lucy picks up a dagger and holds it in her hand, staring at the target. "Wonder if I could make the bullseye."

I smile endearingly at her. There's no way. "With enough practice, definitely."

She grins back, then tosses it with all her strength.

My mouth drops open.

The dagger is stuck in the red.

Susan and I both turn and stare at her, while she beams like mad. "I guess I'm just a natural."

Thanks for reading! Please review!

Author's note: Yes, I know they're supposed to be younger. But they really didn't look it in the movie (in my opinion) so I made the Pevensies a little bit older.