See, this is why I like to make sure I finish a story before I start posting. Otherwise, updates are sporadic and I feel terrible for it since you all leave such wonderful and encouraging reviews!

Edmund

Finally, we had a certain way to leave this place. All we had to do was follow the stream. Then we could be out of the jungle, and all the dangers it hid. Peter was modeling a fast pace and I approved, matching my steps to his. The terrain was fairly smooth and easily traversable close to the stream. I focused on Peter's shoulders in front of me, though his shape became blurred in the increasingly dim light. Every now and then, I would feel the unmistakable crawl under my skin that came from being watched. When I looked around, I thought I saw eyes gleaming in the shadows. But nothing jumped out at us and we continued on our way in peace. Hope was swelling in me. We were nearly there. We had to be. We must be close to the beach. To fresh air. The sound of waves against sand. Clear sky above. Room to breathe. Free from the oppressive taint of evil.

By now, the sun had disappeared, though there must have been a glorious moon since Peter remained visible. His thinking seemed to have been similar to mine, for he turned to look over his shoulder at me with an optimistic smile.

"Don't worry, Ed. We're almost-"

A flash of pale fur and curved claws burst out of the trees and slammed into Peter, knocking him into the underbrush. It happened so fast that I stood motionless for a moment, trying to process what had just occurred. The fronds of the nearby foliage concealed the fight taking place, though the shaking of the leaves and the snapping branches were evidence enough. Abruptly, I recovered and found enough presence of mind to draw my sword. No sooner had I done so than Peter and his attacker rolled back out into the open. I could see now what it was. The werewolf. He was snapping his jaws at Peter, who struggled to free himself while avoiding the fangs coming to perilously close to biting into him.

"Manflesh," the beast panted, eyes wild with anticipation. "Blood and bone. Manflesh."

Peter grimaced, twisting and squirming under the thing. I stepped forward, taking advantage of its single mindedness. With a hard thrust, I shoved my sword into its side. He wriggled on the blade a moment, head jerking to the side to pierce me with his feral eyes. Then he toppled lifelessly to the jungle floor. Peter got to his feet, breathing hard.

"Thanks, Ed," he gasped.

I looked over at him. "You're welco-" I stopped mid sentence.

"What?" he asked.

With a shaky finger I pointed at the front of his tunic. "Blood."

Panicked, he inspected himself with frantic movements that lacked all his usual grace and confidence.

"Did it…?" I couldn't bear to finish the question.

After a tense moment of waiting, Peter shook his head, relieved. "It's not mine. This is from when you stabbed it."

I laughed, releasing the breath I'd unconsciously held. Peter joined in. Eventually, we quieted down.

"Do you think this is the one responsible for all those bones we found?" I asked, tipping my head to indicate the dead werewolf.

Peter nodded. "Probably."

"How do you think it ended up here?" I queried.

"Don't know." Peter shrugged. "But I don't think it matters. Let's go."

A rustling in the branches above my head spooked me and I cringed. Peter sent me a quizzical look. I waved him off, attributing my hypersensitivity to the kill I'd just made.

"Clean your sword and we'll be on our way," Peter said.

I moved forward to pull the weapon from the werewolf when something sharp dug into my shoulders and I was suddenly lifted off the ground.

"Edmund!"

I was rapidly hauled through the air, the ground seeming so far below. I could hear the flap of wings, but no matter how I tried craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the creature that had me, I could see nothing but the green of the jungle and the black of the sky. It was not a pleasant journey. The trees were just as closely tangled together up here as they were on the ground. I was constantly hit with branches, slapping my face, banging against my legs, my arms, my torso. I squirmed as much as I could, given the awkward angle I was being carried in. The thing bent its head down to check what was the matter, so I found myself almost nose to nose with the ugly face of a harpy. She squawked at me, stringy hair dangling past her angular features, after which she adjusted her talons, curling them tighter into the fabric of my shirt. I twisted and wriggled, doing my best to make her drop me. But she didn't and I was powerless to stop our dizzying flight through the jungle. I brought my hands up to cover my face from the worst of the tree branches. As I peeked out from between my fingers, I saw a bit of white in an upcoming tree. That was the only warning I had before the white leaped forward and grabbed the harpy between two large paws.

The three of us dropped from the air and I swore I would never complain to Oreius about his training lessons again, for I instinctually tucked myself into a ball and rolled to absorb the impact of the fall. I kept rolling until I was beneath a bush. From there, I flipped onto my stomach and watched the scuffle taking place in front of me. The white was a tiger and its mouth was clamped onto one of the harpy's leathery wings. The harpy squealed and flapped ineffectually. In return, the tiger jerked its head to one side, dislocating the wing. The shriek the harpy let loose made me wince and cover my ears. While she was still crying, the tiger lunged for her neck, caught it between its jaws and used the same wrenching motion to snap it. The crack was audible even from my hiding place. With the enthusiasm of any wild animal, the tiger laid down to enjoy its meal. It bit into the harpy's chest, tearing through the flesh easily. Using its paws to hold the body in place, the cat took several more bites, chewing noisily. From where I was, I could see the little bits of skin hanging out of the corner of its jaws as it ate.

I must have made some sound of disgust for the tiger rose to its feet and scanned the jungle, ears flicking back and forth as it sought the source. A shaft of moonlight cut through the trees above it, making the white fur almost glow against the ebony stripes. And I could clearly see the blood staining its mouth. I pressed myself further into the dirt, scarcely daring to breathe for fear it would hear me. Its tail swung back and forth hypnotically and I was so entranced by its curling and uncurling that I missed the moment the tiger spotted me. It crouched low, legs coiled to pounce. As my fingers closed on moist earth and fallen leaves, I was made more aware of my lack of weapon. There was nothing I could use against this animal. I was completely defenseless. I couldn't fight it with my bare hands, and I had no chance of outrunning it. The tiger lowered its head, ears flicked forward and teeth bared.

A commotion behind it saved me from a gruesome mauling. Out of the bushes scurried a pack of ankle slicers. Their bodies appeared nearly translucent in the moonlight as they scampered around the fresh kill. Because they were moving so fast, it was difficult for me to count them but my best guess was that there were three of them. In a flash, the tiger had twisted around and was now snapping at the threats to its dinner. Apparently it was more concerned with protecting its first kill than it was in chasing down another. It arched its back, snarling at the intruders and batting them away when they got too close. The ankle slicers circled around the predator, darting in every now and then to try and grab a piece of meat. I stayed just long enough to make certain the creatures were focused on each other. Then I bolted.

My feet kept slipping on the moist leaves covering the jungle floor. I used nearby tree trunks to regain my balance and resume my sprint. Despite frequent glances over my shoulder, which showed an empty path behind me, I was not reassured. I simply couldn't shake the anticipation of a sudden attack. I faced forward just in time to collide with something that sent me sprawling. Fortunately, it was nothing more threatening than my older brother.

"Edmund!" Peter exclaimed happily from where I'd knocked him to the ground.

I sprang to my feet and hauled him onto his. "There are more of them."

"Are you alright?" Peter asked, spinning me in a circle and inspecting me for injuries.

Impatient, I pulled away from him. "Aren't you listening to me? There's more of them."

"More of what?" Peter queried, attention divided between our conversation and the tears in the shoulder areas of my shirt.

"The Fell Beasts," I snapped, wrenching out of his grasp.

Peter's brows furrowed.

"There was a white tiger. And several ankle slicers." I gestured to the jungle behind me. "That's not even counting the werewolf and the harpy," I continued.

Hand on his sword, Peter took a step forward to peer into the trees, subconsciously positioning himself between me and the threat. When he didn't see an immediate enemy, he turned back to me. "Let's just get back to the stream and follow it to the beach. It'll be harder for them to sneak up on us in the open."

Though Peter sounded confident, and he moved forward purposefully, I could tell he was as tense as I was. His normally casual stride was rigid and he had yet to remove his hand from the sword hilt. I followed behind him, empty hands flexing anxiously at my sides. There was the noise of wind in the branches, but the air didn't move. I jumped at every shadow, flinched at the rustling leaves.

Ahead of me, Peter was muttering to himself. "I'm sure I came this way. It doesn't make any sense."

"How much farther, Pete?" I asked nervously.

"I-I'm not sure."

Peter's confession surprised me and I stopped short. He went on for a couple paces before he stopped too. "There's got to be some sort of magic in here. I came this way while I was chasing you and now there's no sign that I was ever here."

"What?" I asked.

"All the broken branches, footprints, anything. It's all gone," explained Peter, sweeping his arm over the area.

"What does that mean?" I queried, dreading the answer.

"It means something doesn't want us getting out of here," Peter answered grimly.

As if Peter's words had summoned it, some large creature appeared between the trees only a few yards from us. Given the snuffling and snorting noises it was making, I concluded that it must be a minoboar. It turned its head, giving me a glimpse of curved tusks that validated my assumption. Peter and I froze, wondering if it had spotted us yet. Minoboars were stupid brutes. If we could slip away undetected, it was doubtful we would be pursued. I began edging away quietly. But Peter pulled his sword from his belt, and stealthily stalked toward it.

"Peter," I hissed.

He held up his hand, signaling me to stay back. I grit my teeth. Running while we had the chance was the wiser course of action. But of course Peter wasn't going to do the smart thing. So far, the minoboar was oblivious. Peter easily slid up behind it. But the thick skin on minoboars backs makes them nearly impervious to attacks from the rear. Peter would have to either decapitate it (an unfeasible task without an incredibly sharp blade), or stab it in its softer midsection. Not trusting the unfamiliar blade to have the needed sharpness, Peter chose to go for its middle, suddenly leaping out in front of it. The minoboar startled, swinging out clumsily with its arm. Peter dodged the strike, ducked down and planted his feet to drive the tip of his weapon into its exposed stomach. It squealed a death cry at an ear-splitting volume before toppling backward.

"Peter," I snapped.

"What? It's dead now," Peter said.

"Yes, and now every creature in this jungle knows exactly where we are," I shot back.

"You're welcome," he grumbled, wiping his sword off on the big leaves of a nearby bush.

"I'm being serious," I insisted. "We should have run when we had the chance."

"You sound like Susan," Peter observed.

I crossed my arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a bad thing?"

Peter shrugged, pretending to be too busy inspecting his weapon for minoboar blood to make eye contact with me.

"You are perilously close to insulting two out of your three siblings," I warned.

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Peter finally gave me his full attention. "All I meant was that we're alright. This minoboar won't be chasing us. I don't see anything coming out of the trees to eat us. It all worked out."

I stood rigid, expecting another werewolf to spring on him or some other beast to materialize and gut him. Nothing happened. No monster burst from the shadows. Peter shook his head, clearly disgusted with my vigilance.

"This way." He tipped his head to the right, setting off without waiting to see if I would follow.

Stung by his dismissal, I didn't even bother asking why he had picked this direction. We hadn't gone far before I had snag Peter's sleeve and pull him to a stop.

"Edmund," he growled.

I jammed a finger against my lips, glaring at him, before pointing ahead at the mob of goblins, boggles, and ghouls that blocked our path. His eyes widened and then he grabbed my sleeve, hauling me off to the side. But it was too late. One of the ghouls had already spotted us, gesturing toward us with a bony arm and gnashing its teeth in excitement. And so the chase began.

NarniaGirl: I'm feeling much better now, thanks :) Oh gosh, you are too kind! It's sure to be a nasty creature, let me tell you ;)

CinnamonRoll4Lif: Make sure you tell those rolls that I'm grateful for their compliments

ChildofGod: *begins sweeping vase shards with a convenient broom* Did this chapter count as 'stuff going down?' ;) * I'm pretty sure it wasn't the flowers. I mean, deer eat them all the time and you don't see them coming down with violent stomach bugs, right?

Chickencomes1st: Thank you so much! And welcome to this story! Haha, I wish I had enough time *cough talent cough* to write one that long but I do appreciate your sweet comment :D