I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I also don't own a computer anymore. Expect delays.

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The biggest difference between the infested brush fields and the forest was the light – the foliage was so thick overhead that it was as though Lucy and her companions had stepped into a tunnel. The trees themselves were mammoth, with huge, thick trunks that two Lucys put together couldn't have encircled with their arms. The roots were gnarled, twisting through the moist mix of dead leaves, rotting branches and other less savory things that made up the forest floor. The smell of moss and mildew hung heavily over it all.

"Keep both eyes open," Peter advised, ahead of the rest a few yards. "It's a bit uneven."

"We hadn't noticed," said Edmund dryly. Peter ignored him.

Lucy picked her way through the mess, casting a glance backwards – where the abrupt start of the wood started, the light from the outside world poured in and made the leaves in the area glow an ethereal green. Even knowing what lay back there, Lucy thought it had a much more pleasant feel. After all, the rat-like things had been obnoxious, but they hadn't managed much besides pinching her feet a few times, and her boots could handle it; good Narnian leather had survived worse ordeals.

When her brief daydreams subsided, she became aware that it was enormously silent. Aside from the rustle and clank of the armed travelers, there seemed no sign of life at all, and yet the wood felt as if it were brimming with some anxious feeling, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Lucy didn't look forward to whatever that might be. It was a bit like the Wood Between the Worlds, which had also been quite still, but that had been a peaceful sort of quiet – this was like the calm before storm, that fearful pause that always comes just when a person realizes she's tripped but hasn't quite yet started her fall. Eager to break the feeling, Lucy spoke up.

"So, Timothy," she said, making her brothers jump. From behind her, she heard him give a noise of acknowledgement. "What else do you remember about your life before that other world?" She vaguely thought that it could use a name.

"A bit more every hour," he said. There was no resonance for their voices, the acoustic deadening their tone as if commanding them to be quiet in a disapproving, silent sort of way. "It was a nice place, my first world. The air was clean and it was peaceful. I think I was a farmer, for a time, and then a soldier. The later memories are a bit fuzzy, see and I can't quite seem to…"

"Shh!" Edmund said suddenly, holding up his hand. The group fell silent and motionless. A tense moment of silence passed. After a minute he shook his head a touch embarrassedly and motioned for them to carry on, muttering "must have imagined it."

"Right then," said Timothy, pushing a hanging vine out of his path with his drawn sword. "So, er."

"The later memories?" Lucy offered.

"Yes, right, the farther along I get the harder it is to remember. I remember growing up as a boy, in the south, working in the fields. It was a good life, hard work but well worth it, and I…mmph!"

Lucy turned around in alarm and tripped over a root on the ground; she tipped over backwards and landed hard upon her backside with a surprised "oof!" Timothy, she saw, had simply run into another vine while speaking, and he spat on the ground disgustedly after he had disentangled it from his teeth. Laughing gaily, Lucy took the hand Edmund had offered her and stood back up, dusting herself off. Her laughter did much to ease the tension of the forest silence. Timothy cracked a grin and even Edmund rolled his eyes affectionately.

"Peter, slow down," Lucy called to her eldest brother, who was quite a ways ahead. "You're much too fast for us."

"We are in a dreadful hurry, in case you had forgotten," he reminded her in a yell and without turning around. Hacking apart a revoltingly green, thorny bramble bush that was blocking his path of choice, he did not slow his pace remotely.

With a small frown, Lucy and company took after him, Edmund determinedly keeping his own pace while Lucy and Timothy made a bit of an effort to catch up.

"If something eats you because you were so far ahead, I won't say a thing in your defense," said Edmund, though it was obvious it was for the benefit of his sister, and she gave him the laugh he'd been seeking. Peter did not respond, as far as she could see, though he might have rolled his eyes.

They continued on until the wood grew quite dark around them, not because night was coming but because they were drawing further away from the city and further towards the deeper part of the wood. It was beginning to get oppressively humid, moisture hanging in the air like a dank curtain, and the heat wasn't anything to be trifled with either, but the quartet kept on stoically, each bearing in mind the goal of their quest.

"This isn't so bad," Lucy said after a good half hour of hard travel. "Why, those rat things have been the worst so far, and they weren't so terrible, were they?"

"Well, be on your guard," Timothy said. "I agree, young miss, but I don't like the feel of this place. It doesn't want us here."

"I hate to be a pessimist, Lu, but I agree," said Edmund, helping her over a particularly tall, thick root.

"And it's terrible luck to think a place isn't dangerous after only being there an hour," Peter called back. He was a blue and grey blot through the trees, refusing to compromise his speed. Lucy wondered at his hearing.

"I suppose we ought to knock on wood or something," she said, frowning. She reached down to tap a root, and found it was covered in some thick, clear slime. With an appalled exclamation, she hurriedly wiped it off on her dress, where it protruded under the mail skirt.

"That wasn't the brightest thing you've ever done," said Edmund lightly. She glared and marched on.