I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I only suffer from withdrawl when I cannot visit them through the internet.

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Half an hour later, Lucy found that the hand with which she'd touched the root was somewhat swollen, stinging like nettles, and covered in a greenish rash. She kept it wrapped in her overshirt, as her dress lay beneath her armor. As of yet, she hadn't shown it to anyone, as they'd probably make a fuss and delay the group, and it wasn't so bad (she also didn't want Edmund to poke fun at her again, but she pretended that wasn't the reason). And so they trekked on through the wood, encountering far more nuisances than actual dangers, and even those dangers were easily avoided – the plant with fangs wasn't exactly inconspicuous.

"Peter!" Lucy called again, some time later. He had slowed his pace to theirs, at least, but he'd done it when he was already far ahead and so they were simply running parallel journeys with the High King a good two minutes' travel away from them.

"Yes, Lu?" he yelled back, clearing the path ahead with a sweep of his sword.

"Why are you so frightfully far ahead of us?"

"Why are you lot so frightfully far behind me?"

Lucy frowned, lifting her leg high to step over a particularly nasty root. She noticed now that her boots were covered in the same clear slime that she'd touched earlier; it should have been obvious, since she had stumbled over quite a few tree roots, which seemed to produce it. She was more careful not to trip now, as she didn't fancy having a green, splotchy face.

They traveled on for a long while without speaking. Lucy would have liked to say the only sound was the wet smush of the disgusting, rotting mess beneath their boots, but unfortunately it was not – the further into the forest they trooped, the more strange noises there were. Some were high chirping noises, rather like regular birds, except the three-note pattern ended with a shriek that could have curdled milk. There was another, more frequent noise, a distant rustling, things moving around them as they journeyed. And once, there was a terrible low bellow that shook leaves from the trees around them, a gut-wrenching cry of anger and pain. Lucy was not keen to meet whatever had produced it.

"You holding up all right, Lucy?" Edmund asked at last, following the path Peter had cleared for them. She nodded, though she was getting rather tired. Walking for several hours was one thing, but walking over quite uneven ground and constantly ducking to avoid the overhanging greenery made her legs and back rather sore. Edmund gave her a small smile. "You put up with a lot, for a girl."

"Are you suggesting girls are, in any way, less tolerant of circumstantial difficulties?" she asked challengingly.

"Of course not," he said smoothly, flashing her a grin and holding up a thick vine so she could walk under without bending. She dipped a curtsy.

"My thanks, good King Edmund," she said regally. Timothy chuckled.

"I used to do that, as well," he said fondly. Confused, Lucy offered him a puzzled smile.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Oh, my sisters and I, we'd pretend to be kings and queens," he said, smiling. "I remember that clearly."

"Actually, we're not pretending," Lucy said with a bright smile. "In our world, we really are kings and queens, see. Peter's the High King, and Ed and Su and I are all royalty also. We live in a grand old castle on the eastern shore."

"Of course you do," Timothy said obligingly.

"You don't believe us," said Edmund. He shrugged, helping Lucy to hop over a branch the size of a log on the ground. "That's all right. I wouldn't believe us either."

"Oh, but it's true," Lucy insisted. She drew her dagger and briefly flashed it in the dim light, showing Timothy the lovely craftsmanship, the gold and the red leather. "See, Father Christmas gave this to me, and this flask here – " – she patted her cordial where it hung from her belt – " – it cures any injury. Susan got her bow and arrow, and her horn (those are at home), and Peter his sword and shield. That was almost six years ago, now. My, how the time has passed!"

"And you?" Timothy asked to Edmund, a mildly amused note in his voice. It was clear he was only asking to be polite. "Did you not receive a present from Father Christmas?"

"No, I didn't," Edmund said with a meaningless smile. His eyes glimmered darkly. "I was paying for my own foolishness at the time. But you needn't humor us. I know Father Christmas is but a myth in most other worlds."

"I have my doubts," Timothy said honestly. "But as for Father Christmas, that I can believe. He came to my father's farm every year to bring us gifts. I just question what sort of people would be led by…well, children. You say this took place six years ago? Your brother would have been how old? Scarcely fifteen, I should think."

"It doesn't matter," Edmund said. "You don't have to believe us."

"Even if it is true," Lucy put in. She didn't feel like a child. She was fourteen – she had sailed a ship, fought battles, rescued her siblings, saved a country, and strangers still couldn't believe she was a queen. It was a little irritating.

"Whatever makes you happy," Timothy said.

"You know, we could show you," said Lucy a little crossly. "After we rescue Susan – "

" – and the poor souls in that dark world," he put in, reminding them of their promise.

"Yes, and that," she continued. "We could take you back to our world and show you our palace, and the court, and our country. Then you'd believe us."

"I'm certain I would," he said, beginning to sound less amused with the subject.

"We'll do it," Lucy decided. "You could even stay for a little while. It's not as if we don't have room."

"True," Edmund said, though he didn't sound particularly enthused.

"We could even visit each other regularly with the rings," Lucy said, smiling. She reached into her pack and pulled out one glove, then started towards her pocket (Edmund made a move to stop her but it was too late and he tried to pretend nothing had happened) and withdrew the two rings, holding them out for Timothy to see but cupping them carefully so she wouldn't drop them. They glistened brightly, even in the bad light.

"Those are magic, aren't they?" Timothy asked curiously. He didn't reach out to touch one, having already seen them in use before and been victim to the yellow ring's trick once already. Lucy nodded as she walked, skirting around a pile of dead leaves.

"Yes, the yellow ones take you to that wood, and the green ones will let you enter a new world," she said. Timothy stared intently at them for a moment.

"And you don't need…any special words, or anything? They're magic in themselves?"

Edmund's eyes flashed with suspicion. Lucy ignored him. He never seemed to trust anyone who wasn't born in Narnia or whose surname wasn't Pevensie.

"Yes," she said. "Quite simple. We were given them so we could rescue our sister."

"Fascinating," he murmured. She smiled and slipped them back into the pouch, taking off her glove and stashing it back into her satchel.

"Edmund has the other two," she said. "There are four. Peter insisted we take them. He can be a bit overprotective sometimes, you know, and he never thinks about himself."

"Speaking of which," Edmund said, lifting his eyes to look ahead through the trees.

"Oh, dear," said Lucy, putting a hand to her mouth.

"He's gone and done it again," Edmund growled, before he took off, scrambling over fallen logs and gnarly roots in his haste. Lucy and Timothy followed suit a moment later, though Lu took a split second to put on her gloves so she knew she could touch the ground without worry. And then the three of them were off, for where Peter had been walking before their conversation, there was now only a strip of blue cloth.