It looked like a slaughter, at first. The White Witch had left a trail in horrifying statues and frozen carcasses, but around her raged hordes of creatures that Jack had never known existed. They were awful things, beings from his nightmares and scary stories told on cold nights. Her army crashed against another, composed of creatures equally unbelievable. But this second army was smaller, and it looked like they were retreating.
Retreating, that is, until Aslan and his company crashed into the fray. The sheer force of it rallied the smaller army and drove the Witch's back. Aslan leapt immediately on the Witch with a roar that deafened even Jack, floating high above the battle.
After that, the battle was short-lived. The Queen's minions panicked and mostly fled; what few remained were slain or taken prisoner quickly. Jack drifted down slowly, weary of the blood-spattered creatures celebrating their victory.
He spotted Susan hovering around the entrance to a tent with a boy who looked remarkably like her. He was not too much taller than her, but he looked a great deal older. His face was white and his hair slicked with sweat; Susan was helping him remove plate armor and delicately trying not to get blood on her clothes. Jack settled into a tree near them and watched solemnly.
"Peter, this is awful," Susan sighed, tugging on a leather strap to loosen an armguard.
"Well, look on the bright side, Su. At least it's over," the boy replied.
"Is it over?" she asked. "You saw how many of her creatures escaped. Who knows what they'll do? We'll have to spend ages tracking them all down."
Peter grinned unexpectedly. Jack started - he really was not that much older than Susan.
"You're thinking like a queen already," Peter said.
Susan made a face at him. "Well we can't just leave Narnia like this, can we?"
"No, you're right. And besides, there is the prophecy to think of. The four thrones at Cair Paravel and all."
They fell quiet, pondering heavy thoughts, and Jack could see the weight of it settling on their shoulders. Susan briskly finished pulling off Peter's armor and set it out on the ground. They began to clean it together, pulling supplies from a nearby bag.
They were not finished when a beaver waddled out of a nearby tent and called to them.
"Is he better?" Susan asked urgently, crouching down to drop the armor she was holding. She and Peter were looking at the beaver with the same tense expression and dissolved into the same exhausted relief when the beaver said "Your brother's fine. You can come see him now."
They went into the tent, and Jack could hear happy conversation and angry scolding that dissolved into laughter and probably hugs. He wanted to join in, but that was a family gathering that he had no place in. And, unspoken, was the fear that Susan would be the only one who could see him. So he remained in his tree, turning his gaze to the rest of the camp.
He had not been watching long when he saw the youngest girl – that he now knew was probably the sister of the three in the tent – come hurrying towards it. She was tucking a small, finely crafted bottle on a chain beneath her shirt, and Jack was startled to see that there was blood on her hands. She pushed into the tent just as her siblings were coming out, and nearly crashed into a boy Jack had not yet seen.
"Edmund!" she cried, laughing and nearly in tears. She wrapped him in a massive hug, which he returned. They spun around as the elder pair watched, smiling broadly.
"Jeez Lu, you'd think I almost died or something," Edmund joked.
"Oh don't tease her like that!" Susan said, as the Lu in question pulled away from her brother to make a face.
"Sorry Lucy," he said, but the grin on his face would not lessen.
"You are forgiven," Lucy said primly. Then she laughed again and pulled him into another hug. Peter and Susan joined in this time, and the four of them clung to each other until a messenger called them away.
Without anything else to do, Jack followed them to the edge of the battlefield. Aslan was waiting for them, and Jack hung back in the trees, still overawed by the Lion's presence. Some great ceremony started, but Jack only vaguely followed it. He was preoccupied with watching all the fantastic creatures – centaurs and unicorns and talking animals of nearly every variety – along with what he has assumed were trees until they began moving. After that, Jack decided it pertinent to remain on the ground.
The rest of that day, and the next passed in a whirl of pageantry and celebrations. Jack followed the joyful procession to a beautiful castle perched on a peninsula on the coast. The Pevensie children were crowned as kings and queens on four thrones that seemed made for them, and Jack was blown away to hear mermaids singing from the open door to the sea.
He lost interest in the ceremony after the siblings were crowned, and so he drifted out the door to get a better look at the mermaids. Susan glanced at him as he passed, but he did not notice her smile softening in the chaos of the hall. The sea rippled with the splashing of the sealife – more than just mermaids – and the bright sunlight of the day. Jack breathed in the salty air, and, suddenly taken with the spirit of adventure in a new land fresh with spring green, gave a great whoop and flung his staff to catapult himself into the blue, blue sky.
He caught a cool freeze blowing across the forest and soared across the Narnian landscape. The spring trees loaded the air with vivid scents he had all but forgotten, and Jack, intoxicated with the scent, whipped through the sky like a tornado. Narnia was a spectacular land, full of rushing rivers, clear lakes, lush forests, and rolling hills topped with meadows of flowers. Jack swept through all of it, delirious with freedom. He was careful not to touch anything, utterly unwilling to bring back any trace of winter to the long-awaited spring.
The landscape changed gradually as Jack neared the mountains; leafy trees with budding flowers became dark pines, and the groves were interspersed with lichen covered boulders. Jack landed on one of these boulders gingerly and was pleased to see that he did not produce any ice to show it. He then lay flat on his back, panting with exhaustion and exhilaration.
For several hours he lay there. The sunlight on his skin felt glorious, and the mountain air, fresher than fresh, made him feel almost as if he had never been imprisoned. It was delicious, just to lie still and know that he had the freedom to move if he wanted to. He nearly fell asleep – his thoughts slipped into idle contemplation of his surroundings, and he lost any sense of himself. The vibrant sunset drew him back, however. Once he noticed the deep reds creeping over the edge of his vision, Jack felt something change. He had been resting long enough. It was time to go.
He wandered Narnia again, but now he was searching. For what, he had no idea. But his flight was slower, more contemplative than wild, and he was able to truly examine the scenery beneath him. He noticed oddities; a beaver dam with a smoking chimney, a rocky hill with a door built into one side, and then – to his great surprise – a lamppost in the middle of the woods. It was this last object that really caught his attention. Jack swooped down into the grove surrounding the post and landed easily beside it. He knocked the post a few times with his staff; the clear ringing in response told him that it was indeed a metal post like the ones he had seen in the big cities.
"Where did you come from?" he murmured, circling the oddity. A thought struck him as he noticed a thick cluster of pines at the edge of the grove. He eyed the patch wearily for a moment before jumping into a gust of wind and flying over the close-growing pines. There appeared to be nothing special hidden in their branches, but Jack still felt that he was missing something. He dropped to the ground and pushed into the thicket, but all his got were scratches for his trouble. Frustrated, he pushed the branches aside with his staff and leapt into the air.
He flew straight up before settling and turning to look back at the puzzling forest. The forest, however, was not there.
Jack was looking at an old estate house, comfortably sitting in a rolling green countryside and surrounded by immaculately managed gardens. He blinked and fell down a few feet before recovering. How had this happened?
He blinked again; the house was looking awfully familiar. He thought that maybe he had seen it before, somewhere, but he had not gotten a very good look. A window on the upper floor was open, and Jack drifted towards it, thinking to peek inside. And then he remembered; he had been trying to look into that exact window when he had knocked his staff against the frame and fallen inside. But when he fell, he did not land on the wood floor he had seen inside. No, he had landed in a snow drift in the middle of the woods.