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Chapter 8

We jump to our feet at the slightest sound from Aslan's tent. A rustle of fabric, then the White Witch stalks out, head held high like she's totally in control and the same haughty smirk on her face as before. Apparently, He didn't rip her to bits.

Pity.

Everyone watches as she strides out of the tent, down the stone stairs, and out on the grass to her servants and carriage. Aslan follows, and His gaze turns to the five of us, but I've got this weird feeling that the deep sadness in His eyes is for Edmund and I alone. I'm not sure if any of the other Pevensies even notice, but I know Edmund does when he straightens up, meeting Aslan's eyes with a clear, steely gaze of his own. So willing to sacrifice himself.

My fingers curl, balling into fists. Please Aslan, don't let that happen.

After a second, He turns away from us, facing the rest of the crowd. The Lion opens His great mouth and, "She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood."

If the place was like a graveyard before, it now sounds like a bunch of teen girls when RPatz and Taylor Lautner walk by. The whole area explodes into cheering, laughing, and hugging. I pretty much throw myself at Edmund, and then get lost in a tangle of arms and faces as the rest of the Pevensies wrap their arms around us as well.

But then the Witch has to go and break into our celebration. "How do I know your promise will be kept?"

And it's about time Aslan had enough.

The great Lion roars, green-gold eyes squinting and lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth. The fierceness of it all almost scares me, and the Witch is so freaked, she falls back into her stupid, little throne, and her cyclopses can't carry her out of there fast enough. Now our laughs are mocking, jeering at her as she disappears down the valley, then up and over the hill.

But, as they said in Finding Nemo, Good feeling gone. What promise did Aslan make to her? And why, oh why, have the pain and sadness returned to His eyes?

I look over at my friends, wondering if they noticed, but all the Pevensies are too wrapped up in celebration to do much other than laugh, cry, and hug their brother. So I look back at Aslan again, but He seems perfectly content now, even giving me the smallest of smiles as He reenters His tent.

So maybe I imagined it.

But I really don't think so. Because, even as I hug Edmund again, even as I'm ecstatic over his release, I still feel this strange tug in my heart. Like all is not as well as it should be, and nothing around here is quite as it seems.

Later, while everyone else is partying, I sneak off to see Aslan.

Tents don't exactly have doors, so I'm just standing there, wondering if I should knock on the cloth flap, clear my throat, or waltz on in, when His voice sounds through the fabric, "Come in, Zaylie."

So I do. "Hi, Aslan."

He smiles, but there's something weary about the rest of His face, something that makes the smile look stitched on. "Hello, Daughter. You've chosen not to celebrate with the others."

It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "No." I shake my head and stare at the ground. "Actually, I was... Well, I was wondering. Are you OK?"

"You noticed the Witch's ending statement."

"Yeah." I nod, lifting my eyes to meet His. "What did she mean by that?"

The Lion rises, padding slowly over to me. When He's about three feet away, He sighs. "A difficult time is coming, Zaylie, but after that, all will be revealed and all will be made right. But, above all, you must trust me." Aslan looks deep into my eyes. "Do you trust me, Zaylie Hepburn?"

I nod. "With all my heart."

He nods, too, a hint of a real smile crossing His lips, wiping out half the exhaustion. "Good."

MWAHAHAHAHA!

Fear, all around me, curling up like black smoke and stuffing its way into my throat. Choking me.

AAAHHH! A scream of horror, a scream of pain, far worse than anything in any horror movie.

A knife, glinting in the firelight, plunges into something soft and golden. Red liquid oozes up. A pounding heartbeat pauses, stutters, then slows, and... stops.

I sit straight up on my cot, my own heart racing, my own lungs gasping for air. A strangled scream sinks from my throat, settling deep into my chest. As I pant again and again, trying to get the oxygen back in me, broken images sprint through my head, dashing around and wreaking havoc. What was that? I wonder. Did I have another one of those crazy visions?

Whip, whip, whip. Our tent flap rustles as someone walks by, and I, glad for any distraction from my dream, touch my feet to the cool ground, sneak from my bed, and look out a window-flap in the fabric. It's Aslan. He's leaving the camp.

At first, I frown, wondering why. Then I shrug. He probably just needs some time alone.

Turning around, I trudge back to bed, planning to try to go back to sleep. But, though I'm exhausted, I keep seeing it. The fragmented scenes play over and over in my head, like they're taunting me, forcing me to stay awake.

Around the billionth time I see the horror movie of my own mind's making, I put everything together.

"How do I know your promise will be kept?"

"A difficult time is coming, Zaylie."

A knife. Something soft and golden. Red, red blood oozing out around the silver.

Oh. My. Gosh.

I have to warn Aslan.

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Edit: Hey people! Just so you know, this story is going on a temporary hiatus while I update and revise the first few chapters, so it might be a while before I post a new one here. Never fear, though. This story will most definitely be finished, and as quickly as possible. :)