By The River's Edge
Author's Notes: Thanks to the beautiful reviews I've received lately, I finally managed to bring up some willpower and finally get this chapter written. Hopefully my writing's better than the last few (atrocious) chapters. And hopefully my lame plot for this chapter is forgiven? I've justneeded something to get past my writer's block. Thanks to all your reviewers!
And so they began the march. Susan nor Caspian were strangers to it. They packed up the tents, organized the Telmarines, restored and packed supplies. They moved on.
The Narnians cheered as they walked, laughing and chattering with the trees that walked with them or leaned toward them from the side of the paths they walked along. Birds flew above them, talking just as excitedly as the smaller woodland creatures that jumped from tree to tree beside them. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy were up front behind Aslan, leading the celebrations. They didn't notice Susan staying behind as one of the very last ones of the procession, or Caspian lingering in the middle.
When they reached the middle of a large plain, Aslan turned round. A large hush came over the crowd until Aslan said, not yelling, but somehow loud enough so everyone could hear, "We shall stop here, while there is light enough to set up camp for the night."
Indeed, the sun was beginning to set, and Susan was guilty of lingering a bit while she admired the soft brilliance of the Narnian sun setting. The night would be good for stargazing, she thought, as the moon began a steady climb upwards. Perhaps I'll—no. No, she couldn't go stargazing again. It reminded her too much of a path she couldn't go down.
Susan was collecting water in buckets at a nearby river the next morning when Lucy, with bright red cheeks and the bright disposition of one who has had great fun recently, came bounding down the river's edge, only able to stop herself a few inches into the river. Lucy was unlucky enough to have created such an effect that Susan was effectively soaked in water; and poor Lucy only had time to whisper a fervent "Oh dear," before Susan became furious.
"Are you mad, Lucy?" barked Susan.
"Oh, Susan, I'm really sorry!" cried Lucy.
"Lucy, don't say another word, just scram, why don't you?"
Lucy, hurt and offended, replied, "No need to be so cross! It's only a bit of water!"
Susan gave a withering glare. "Just leave, Lucy. I don't need your childish acts right now!"
Lucy gave a pout and was about to reply, when suddenly, in the blink of an eye, her arms were grabbed and held tightly behind her at a painful angle; she had barely time to yell out before she was gagged with a disgustingly dirty cloth.
Looking over at her sister for help, she discovered Susan was no better off.
"What do we have now, eh? A pair of feisty little queens by the river's edge? Why, they're almost too tempting to pass up, right boys?" A rough, deep voice was coming from behind Susan and Lucy, and despite their frantic attempts to wriggle out of their captors' arms, they couldn't do anything to help themselves.
And from the raucous sounds of laughter all around them, no one was willing to help, either.