"All right," Peter said as they trekked out towards the forest. "A few things to bear in mind. We don't know what's in here, but it's been enough to keep an army of men out, so don't do anything stupid. Also, don't split up unless it's absolutely necessary. Keep quiet, keep alert, keep your weapons ready. We travel due north."
There was a general murmur of assent. Lucy frowned and pulled her boots free of the low, thick plants that completely covered the ground. They weren't so much walking as wading through it, and this put her at a bit of a disadvantage, being by far the shortest of the lot (why did Edmund have to have that growth spurt?), and she found herself lagging behind just a bit until Peter doubled back and scooped her right off her feet, settling her into place on his back. With his shield, it was a touch uncomfortable, but she could still thread her feet through his arms and hold onto his neck in a piggy-back carry.
"You're not going to do this the whole way, are you?" she teased gratefully as they caught up with the others.
"Don't count on it," he told her, chuckling.
They continued on towards the wood in silence. At one point, Lucy craned her neck backwards and looked back at the wall; a small crowd of people stood upon the ramparts, watching them solemnly, including the guard who'd been keeping watch. He made no move to fire at them with his bow. And yet Lucy still felt threatened, as if these people were watching them, waiting to see something happen, something that wasn't preferable for the travelers. There was a rustling in the brush - the boys all froze. Lucy felt the hair on the back of her neck raise. But when there was no other noise for a good minute, Lucy spoke, her voice frightened and wavering.
"Just…just the wind, I'll bet," she managed.
"Yes, the wind," Timothy agreed nervously. "We'd best keep moving. We have no time to waste."
"Right," Peter agreed, voice steady. Edmund's eyes were scanning the ground suspiciously. The plants rose to the area between his boots and his knees, and Lucy could see their prickliness had already done a job on his breeches. His knees appeared red and a bit scratched beneath the tattered cloth.
"Are you all right, Edmund?" she asked.
"They're just plants," he said dismissively. "A few little scratches never hurt anyone."
They moved on after a moment, the wall behind them and the forest before them, both ominous. Lucy held tight to Peter's shoulders, keeping her eyes moving, watching for any sign of life in the brush. It crackled beneath the boots of their party, the thirsty plants snapping in their dry state. Lucy could see that where the river lay, off to the east, the ground wasn't so brown, rather a more healthy green, but it slowly grew more and more sickly as the water failed to reach the undergrowth.
"What's that?" Timothy suddenly asked, head jerking to one side. Lucy's eyes flew to where his were pointing – straight down, at his feet.
"What's what?" Edmund asked, only mildly interested.
"Something moved," Timothy said worriedly. He shifted his foot experimentally and let out a great yell. "Something bit me!"
"Probably just a rat," said Edmund.
"Ouch! Again!"
"Several rats," Ed offered.
"And once more!"
"Do your boots have cheese in them, perchance?"
Timothy drew his sword and plunged it into the earth between his feet – there was a hideous squeal and a sort of squelching noise. When he lifted it, upon the tip there was a grotesque little rodent-like creature impaled, its front legs still waving absently as it twitched to the end of its little life.
"What did I tell you? A rat," Edmund said. "Let's keep moving."
"I don't think that's a rat, Ed," Peter said. He carefully let Lucy down and held out his hand; Timothy handed him his sword and the High King took it, turning it around and examining the critter he'd killed. It was tannish in color, with bristly, rough-looking fur and a rat-like tail, but unlike a rat its snout was blunt, and – Lucy made a noise of surprise and mild disgust – it had an extra set of legs between the two a rat had. Its blankly staring eyes were a faint red color. Frankly, it wasn't very attractive.
"Eeyuch," Lucy said, making a face. Something brushed her feet, buried in the brush. She squealed and moved to one side, only to feel it again. Edmund was looking down at his feet in worry. Only Peter seemed not to notice, until his eyes opened quite wide and he let out a yelp, dropping the sword. Timothy caught it on the way down and shook off the creature, wiping the bloodied tip of his sword on some higher brambles.
"I say we move fast," Peter suggested, staring at his boots in distaste.
"Good idea," Edmund put in. They began wading through the undergrowth in a bit of a rush, the boys drawing their swords and cutting a path through rather than attempting to live and let live.
"Ow!" Lucy cried as something suddenly stung at her foot.
"Hurry," Peter called urgently. He winced, and Lucy knew he'd been bitten too. It wasn't so hard as it was before, now that there was something of a way to follow, but it was still rough going, and the brambles were catching on the hem of her dress every now and then.
"These were new boots when I left," Ed growled, stabbing at something near his foot. There was a shriek and he carelessly flicked the rodent carcass off his sword; it flew off to the side, into the bushes, and a great rush of rustling headed off in its direction.
"Cannibals," Timothy muttered.
"Wouldn't doubt it," Peter said, in the fore now, hacking away at the dry brambles that blocked their path. The forest floor was in view now, and Lucy could see that at least the floor cover ended where the trees took root. It didn't look much more appealing, however, the dense foliage creating a sort of gloomy, tunnel-like effect. Something stung at her foot again and she renewed her pace.
"Peter, what are these things?" she called ahead.
"I've no idea, Lu," he yelled back, rather far ahead now. "But I wouldn't fancy having tea with them!"
She ran a few steps forward and stumbled. Preparing to go face-first into the prickly bushes, she put her arm up over her head, but instead a strong hand caught her, and she looked up to see Timothy's grim face hovering above hers. He hoisted her to her feet and sent her ahead of himself, limping slightly. With a hurried thank-you, she followed Edmund's lead, nervously waiting for the next strike. She had only her dagger, which wasn't much good for driving the creatures away; it was too short, and she was sure she'd lose a hand to the thorns if she attempted to stab anything at her feet.
"We're almost there," Peter called. "Just twenty yards, hold on now."
"Bloody hell!" Edmund exclaimed, nearly dropping his sword and hopping on one foot for a moment.
"Language!" Peter shouted.
"Sunshine, rainbows and butterflies!" Edmund said angrily, beating at the undergrowth with a renewed ferocity.
"Much better!"
The number of bites lessened as they approached the edge, though the thinned brush meant also that Lucy had a clearer view of just what was doing the biting, something almost more unpleasant than the biting itself. At last, she stumbled out of it entirely, Timothy following a second later.
"Let's not repeat that," Edmund suggested irately.
"Oh, I thought we could use the exercise," Peter said. "Let's go back and do it again." He raised an eyebrow. Timothy chuckled, and suddenly Lucy saw something rapidly approaching the edge of the bushes, something larger than what had been biting at their boots…
"Look out!" she called, and just in time – everyone jumped, not knowing who she was speaking to, and in the space where Timothy had just been standing, there was suddenly another of the strange, rodent-like creatures, only this was easily three times the size. It had launched itself straight at their ally, but when its target suddenly moved, it fell sprawled on the ground. Quickly scrambling to its feet, it made a scampering bee-line towards Peter, who drew his sword but seemed unwilling to stab at his own feet. It jumped, claws outstretched, heading for the unprotected area between his boots and mail shirt, flew through the air –
- and fell limp to the ground, skewered on the end of the throwing knife Edmund had produced earlier.
"Excellent throw," Timothy said.
"Thanks," Edmund replied, bending over and pulling his weapon from the dying creature. It writhed it agony. Lucy, feeling pity for the poor thing, drew her own weapon and quickly cut its head off so it wouldn't have to suffer. Ed gave her a small smile.
"You could have hit my knees!" Peter said, aghast.
"What, you don't trust me?"
"Well I've never seen you throw a knife before, Edmund, all I knew was that you were chucking cutlery at my appendages!"
"Well, you're alive, so stop griping," Edmund said, wiping his dagger on the thin grass and returning it to its hiding place on his belt. Lucy shrugged when Peter looked to her for support. When it became apparent that the rest of the party was moving on, Peter sighed hopelessly, shaking his head, sheathed his sword, and followed them into the beginning of the wood. As the shadows fell over her face, Lucy felt herself grow a bit more uncertain.
"What do you think is in there, Ed?" she whispered, hushed by the oppressive silence of the wood.
"That's what we're going to find out."