I hope you guys like this chapter!

~CampHB

~Chapter 3: The Pevensies~

My head throbbed as it hit the tree trunk. I opened my eyes to find a blond boy not much older than me. He steadied a wickedly sharp sword at my neck and his blue eyes flashed a warning as I clenched my fists.

"Ho! What've you got there, High King?" a gruff voice sounded. A short, stocky man waddled out of the trees. A dirty yellow beard hung to his waist, and a bow was at his side.

A girl followed him, also with an arrow notched in her bow. She had black hair and steel-blue eyes. A younger girl was behind her, clutching a dagger. The younger one had brown hair and warm coffee-colored eyes.

"Peter!" Another kid melted out of the woods. With dark brown hair and amber eyes, he looked nothing like the other kids, but his face was somewhat similar. His sword flashed in the light.

Still one more boy walked out, probably about a year younger than me. His brown hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin made him seem somewhat exotic. He looked nothing like the others. He was carrying a weapon, a steel sword.

I realized that they were all wearing chain mail and old-fashioned clothes, like out of fairy-tale. The girls had dresses, and the boys had tunics and tall boots. The main emblem on their clothing was the red silhouette of a standing lion, except for the dark boy. The other kids' mail was silver and looked light. He was wearing a green tunic that blended in with the trees and heavy black armor.

"Who is she?" the older girl asked. A British accent reached my ears.

"I don't know," Peter said, his eyes trained warily on me. "Could be a spy for Miraz."

"Bah! Miraz doesn't even know you're here," the short man grumbled. "Though he might suspect."

"Peter could be right, Trumpkin," the foreign boy agreed.

"What?" Who the heck were these people? And why were they here? Where even was I?

"So she can speak," Trumpkin said wryly. "What a surprise."

"Shut up!" I growled. I rarely spoke to strangers, and when I did, it was only when I had to.

"Who are you?" Peter demanded.

"Why should I tell you?" Being on the run had cautioned me to give away my identity—especially to people I didn't know, which was basically about everyone.

"Answer me," said Peter. The blade of his sword dug slightly deeper.

"Make me," I taunted.

"I am High King Peter of Narnia, also known as King Peter the Magnificent," he told me, his voice suddenly different, richer in tone. "You will answer my question."

I swallowed nervously. His voice alone started to sound a bit more dignified. "Sure, and I'm the Princess of Cauliflower," I managed.

Cerulean eyes sparked with anger and impatience when I answered him.

"Peter, she's just a girl," the younger female said. "She can't do any harm."

"Harm or no harm, we don't even know what she's doing here," the other British-sounding spoke up.

"Edmund!"

"What! She dresses funny."

I bit my tongue to stop a snappy comment about what he was wearing.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"We want answers," Edmund said, coming closer, sword raised.

"What answers?"

"First of all, simply, what is your name?"

I hesitated. They seemed dangerous and welcoming at the same time. But then, they could kill me right away with those weapons. I also had to admit I was very paranoid; sometimes too paranoid for my own good, but I had to be safe from the government or else they would come barging through my hideouts for me… "I—My name is Tarah Dennis."

"What are you doing here?"

"It—it wasn't my fault. There was a door, and then it had words on it, and it opened, and…"

"See? She's harmless," the young girl said. "Let her go."

Peter lowered his weapon and glanced at me suspiciously. I rubbed the red mark where the sword had almost drawn blood.

"All right. You win, Lucy," he sighed. "Let's say we met under better circumstances. I'm Peter Pevensie."

He stuck out his hand. I shook it carefully. No one had ever even bothered to say hello to me, less shake my hand.

"These are my siblings." Peter swept his hands at the three other kids. "Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. That's Gareth over there. He's a Telmarine that joined us. He's going to help."

"Or so he says," Trumpkin muttered.

Telmarine?

"I'm Tarah," I replied.

"I know. You told us." Lucy smiled. Her grin sent chills down my back. Good chills. I couldn't remember the last time someone had smiled at me.

The stout man cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Peter.

"Oh, yes. I almost forgot. That's Trumpkin. We call him our Dear Little Friend; D.L.F. to abbreviate."

"He's so short," I blurted, holding back a smirk.

"Short? I am the average height for a Narnian Dwarf, young lass. You are just merely over-tall," he sniffed.

"What? Wait, where am I?"

Narnian Dwarf? High King? This is weird.

"Narnia," said Susan. "You're in Narnia."

"What? Narnia? Where on earth is that? I thought I was in Manhattan…two days ago…" The realization dawned on me.

They were all quiet for a few minutes, looking me up and down. I stared back at them.

"Well, what are we going to do about her?" Edmund questioned. "Do we take her in?"

"I say yes," Lucy said.

Susan studied me. "Yes."

"How about you, D.L.F.?" Peter called.

"If she has any sense," came the answer.

"Shut up," I muttered under my breath. That short man really bugged me.

"Gareth…"

Gareth peered at me curiously, like I was some kind of weird animal. "I…does my choice matter?"

"Of course."

"Then, yes. Yes. Take her in."

"Well? Edmund?" Peter looked at his younger brother.

"She has to be able to defend herself first, if she's going to come with us," he said. "I have a spare sword, but I'm afraid that I don't have any extra armor."

Edmund drew out a rapier that was about three feet long and tossed it to me. I barely caught it. The hilt was wrapped with leather and had threads of gold around it. The blade itself was made out of shiny steel. At the top of the handle was a golden lion's head.

"You're going to need this too." A scabbard was also flung in my direction. It was made of dark brown leather with gold plating at the bottom and at the top.

I slid the sword into the sheath. Peter gave me a scrap piece of cloth to hook it onto my cutoffs. Then I picked up my backpack and slung it onto one shoulder.

"We have to move, or else we'll never reach King Caspian!" Trumpkin finally called.

King Caspian? Don't they have presidents these days?

I must've looked confused because Lucy said, "I'll tell you as we go."

Alright. Now tell me how you liked this chapter.

~CampHB