A/N: Howdy, y'all! I know that this chapter is PAINFULLY short, and I apologize, especially for the lateness. I also know that I use this excuse a lot, but school is really rough right now—four honors classes, one AP class, and two core classes, along with Student Government, newspaper, and SATs and ACTs! Aaaak! But I managed to get this little bit done, and I wanted to post it so I could feel like I'd accomplished something. And it does advance the plot a bit! I guess…so read and review, but most of all enjoy! :D
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Enna breathed deeply of the fragrant autumn air. The fiery red leaves of the maple tree beside her fluttered noisily in the path of the brisk breeze that was whistling down from over the sea, bringing with it the crisp smells of seawater and snow not far from the shore. A loon cried lonesomely from somewhere far away, and overhead, a flock of birds made its way south. Enna, her hair curling in response to the teasing fingers of the wind, tripped happily down the worn path, a thick wool scarf tied tightly around her neck and a warm winter cloak fluttering about her ankles. It really was a lovely day—she was not used to autumn, Galma being summery all year round, even in late November as it was. But she was finding that she rather liked it.
Of course, the fact that her lips were tingling with Peter's latest kiss made the sun shine all the brighter. At first, she had been reluctant to let herself believe that the high king of Narnia fancied her like that. But a few kisses and quite a lot of autumn roses later, she had to let herself trust his word.
She snagged a crisp golden-red apple from a low-hanging tree branch as she passed the orchard, munching carelessly on it. How his handsome face would light up when she spoke to or even looked at him! It had given her wonderful, mysterious tingles up and down her spine the first few weeks he had been trying to convince her of his ardor. Now her tingles had ceased, but his emotions toward her had only increased.
Tossing the apple core into the high grasses along the dusty path, Enna bit her lip. Was it normal to feel a lagging excitement in matters of romance? Peter didn't seem to experience the same doubts she was. But she couldn't just tell Peter she didn't want his affections any longer—she enjoyed them, reveled in the feeling of being wanted and appreciated again.
I wonder when he'll notice I don't love him to the same extent.
She did love him, of course she did, but in a sort of warm and fuzzy and, admittedly, cautious, way. He seemed to love her with a sort of…raw and unrefined fervor, wild and unchecked. Was that wise, she wondered?
A centaur couple, bare-skinned but for bright green woolen scarves about their necks, passed her arm-in-arm. Over the clip-clopping of their hooves, she heard the she-centaur clearly: "Cantus, did you see that human girl? The high king himself is desperately in love with her. They are saying he shall make her his queen, come spring-tide."
Enna blushed and hid a smile behind her scarf. The he-centaur's response was lost in the brisk wind, but she felt a warmth in the pit of her belly anyway. The high king himself. Why need she worry about Sabsestrin or her future well-being? She would never have to be concerned about where she would sleep, who would love her, and if she would have to hide in the shadows forever.