Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia C. S. Lewis does.
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Isabela looked out from under the scarlet red hood covering her lone figure. It flowed loosely around her as it was originally Peter's.
Rain dripped down from the stormy sky, gathering on the very edge of her lashes and as she blinked it seemed as if tears were running down her pale face.
She leaned against the tree shadowing hers and Peter's tent. It was almost bare but the yellow, pale crimson and russet leaves that hung limply on it said otherwise.
Winter was here.
She glanced around her. The Narnian camp was filled with people moving back and forth, clad in woollen cloaks and squinting in the cold. Fauns, their fur long and soft, scampered to and fro, carrying the minimum resources they had left.
Food.
Water.
Bandages.
All running out.
Peter had sent a message to Lucy through the dryads to send more supplies but the cold weather and blustery winter rain had delayed them.
She lifted a pale hand from under the long hood and pulled it over her head so as to shield herself from the piercing wind.
However it fell down as she glanced up when she felt a shadow looming over her. It looked sharp and vaguely menacing.
'Sometimes I worry you loose your sanity Lia, at occasional intervals of course. But you do. I really do worry you do.'
Isabela smiled slightly, her miserable mood lifted as Edmund flopped down beside her, a crisp bread loaf in his hand.
'Would you like some, my lady? You look terribly famished.' He offered.
'You're being overdramatic, Ed. I am not hungry.'
Not hungry since the giant attack at their previous camp. It had been terrifying to be a witness to it.
Now she realized what an ant must feel like when a human stepped next to it. Or on it.
She shuddered thinking about how many sleeping people had been crushed to death by the breezy attack. It had been as if all hell had broken loose and taken out its fury on them.
Since then there had been occasional skirmishes but no real war except the last one which again involved the bloody giants.
'Winter is here.' She noted. Edmund stared at her as if she had lost her mind.
'My, how quick you realized that, my lady.' He said sarcastically, swallowing a large piece of bread.
Sometimes she truly wondered where the mighty amount of food Edmund ate went to.
'You know Susan returned to Narnia last week.' Edmund told her. 'Rabadash turned out to be a nasty, rotten, wretched piece of slime after all. He tried to force Susan to become his bride.'
Isabela placed a light hand on Edmund's shoulder which was trembling with anger.
'So that was why Peter was disturbed last week. He must have been furious.'
'Obviously.' Edmund shook his head in disgust. 'Anyways, Susan was accompanied by King Lune's son Cor and his wife Aravis. Aravis was wounded in the journey and when the Tisroc of Calormene came to realize of their involvement he waged a war on Archenland and Narnia.'
'Oh God. What did they do?'
'What they can do. Susan went to Cair Paravel to assume the diplomatic duties. Lucy led the Narnian army into battle along with King Lune and his family leading the Archenlander army.'
'Why did nobody tell me of this?' Isabela asked him, the hurt obvious in her voice. 'Did you not trust me?'
'Of course not Lia!' Edmund said incredulously. 'You're family! I was much too busy and Peter ..…. Well he is not very expressive, is he?'
Isabela did not answer.
'Who won?' she asked him, staring at rain dropped from the branch of a tree.
'We did.'
'At least we had one victory. Lately all we have are defeats.'
'Not at all, Lia. We won just last week and against giants.'
'And lost over forty Narnians.'
Edmund turned away and they sat in silence until a centaur came up to them.
'My lord, King Peter requests your presence.'
Edmund jumped onto his feet, the bread flying out of his hand. A large wading bird dipped down and caught it in its beak before gliding off.
'I'll see you later, Lia.' Edmund offered. Isabela smiled lightly and waved.
She stared after them as they disappeared around a corner.
It was then she noticed the large yellow eyes glaring at her from amongst the bushes. Nervously she patted the ground for her sword.
Brushing her cloak she jumped to her feet to see the crouching figure turn away. She ran after it, glancing hesitatingly for only one instant.
I'll go. She decided.
It led her through the abundant shrubs and bushes and the clumps of trees to a large cliff. And then it disappeared.
Vanished.
Into thing air.
She glanced around for it but could see it nowhere. Nothing. Juts the howling wind, screaming in her ears. And along with it she heard a low yowling.
Goosebumps collided against each other on her skin. Nervously she took a step back towards the bushes.
Another growl.
This time from behind her.
She froze. Dear Aslan…What now?
Something was coming towards her, its growls growing louder by the second. With her back towards the cliff she stepped back.
One step.
Two steps.
She shouldn't have. A branch cracked under her feet and the creature appeared. Except it wasn't a monster.
A human.
Just like her.
Except for the twelve inches long hair growing in occasional places on his body. His gnarled skin fell in flops and the red veins stood prominently. His yellow eyes glared hungrily at her.
Terror seized her in its impenetrable gaze and she could not think properly.
All she could think was: I'm going to die.
I'm going to die.
I'm going to die.
Aslan, help me!
It did not hesitate, lunging at her, its hands closed in around her throat and shoved her roughly. Losing her balance she toppled down the cliff, her foot slipping on the edge, her figure wavering from the struggle between her and the monstrous man.
The next instant she was falling. Everything was a blur like the coloured flashes of an unruly painting. Rain pierced her face and then… she felt the icy feeling of death and cold.
Water. She had fallen into a frozen river, breaking though the ice. Blood flowed down her cheek. Or was it water. Her body was numb and she felt… nothing.
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Peter slashed his sword in a circular motion, rising it high in the air so that the moonlight glinted off it before letting it fall loosely on his opponent. It was the law of the jungle. Kill or be killed.
The man kept staring at him with his motionless eyes before he emitted a raspy strangled voice.
'My children.'
Peter did not look away but his gaze softened though it remained steady and strong as ever. He had to do this. It was his duty to rid the kingdom of the rebels and protect his own people. His heart hardened when he remembered the cries of the innocent villagers.
'The villagers you murdered also had children.' He told the sinking man who moaned. 'Young children. Some unborn. And you killed them. I am simply returning the favour.'
'My lord. Please….' He fell to his knees and clutched Peter's feet. 'I…. I only ask you to help my children. Don't….don't let them follow the path of bloodshed.'
'I will.' Peter said firmly as he felt the man's body thump to the ground. He glanced away, his ears straining as he heard footsteps.
Another man lunged at him and Peter stepped aside to avoid the heavy blow. He pulled at his sword and Rhindon danced through the man's chest, stabbing his directly in the heart, until the light went out of his eyes.
His cronies attacked warily and Peter took advantage of their hesitation wiping them in a single blow. It was necessary. To survive you had to kill the other.
It was the difference of life.
Be the predator or suffer as a prey.
It was the choice of lifetime.
As he wiped his sword clean, sheathing the ruby-hilted blade he looked up to hear Orieus alarmed voice over the shouts of his company of men.
He narrowed his eyes when he saw their shadowy figures begin to get clearer. Orieus had gone to scour the coast. Why would he return so early?
His heat contracted when he saw the alarm and fear in Orieus's usually unpredictable eyes and the furiously fast scurry of Mr. Tumnus beside him.
It was then he realized that they were holding somebody.
Somebody with pale skin and long black hair which cascaded down her limp form.
He moved forwards, his face impassive but his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil.
Isabela.
Isabela was the limp form curled up in Orieus's arms.
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Isabela opened her cat-like emerald green eyes to stare directly at the distressed face of a young female faun. Her astonishment was beyond great and she went pale before she emitted a great wail of anguish.
Or pleasure.
Isabela wasn't sure.
The tent flaps, scarlet red and pure gold, flew back as if a storm was coming and Peter stumbled in, his sword drawn and pointed in a varying direction.
Colours of relief flooded his face as he saw Isabela looking at him owlishly. He very nearly laughed at her annoyed expression. The faun was blushing brightly, her furry cheeks tomato red as she said shyly.
'I'm sorry, my lord. I was….. surprised.' She murmured.
'Shocked.' Isabela corrected, pushing back the locks flowing over her shoulder and sitting up.
Instantly a feeling of dizziness washed over her and she raised a hand dazedly to her head to steady herself.
'Grizelda, summon the healers please.'
'I'm alright.' Isabela said quietly. Peter through a venomous glare at her which very clearly said shut up.
She did, nodding at the faun, Grizelda, who staggered out of the tent, waving her hands in distress.
'Honestly Peter, I'm fine. No need to worry.'
'Shut up, Isabela.' He told her sharply, running a hand through his hair.
'Don't tell me to shut up, Peter!' she shot back, her eyes burning with fury. 'I'm not some child to scorn.'
'You say that all the time, my dear lady.' Peter said silently, his tone cutting. 'But you very often behave very much like a child.'
'Oh and now what have I done, Your Great Majesty?' she asked sarcastically.
'Going away from camp during a war? Following a mere animal? Falling off a cliff? Bering stupid enough o wander away from a well protected area?' Peter said tauntingly, his tone bespeaking of his fury. 'What interesting toy did you see, Isabela?'
'Shut up Peter!' she said flushed, her cheeks burning with humiliation. 'You arrogant, idiotic, proud, beastly, unfaithful, egotistical little-'
'Enough, Isabela!' Peter said his voice quiet and striking. 'Do you know who you are talking to? I am the High King of Narnia! And I suggest you talk to me as such and remember my place as well as yours.'
Isabela did not answer and turned her face away, her eyes smouldering with the urge to cry.
'You see what I am talking about, Isabela? You do not know the different between dreams and reality. You do not realize how to address different people according to their status. You are a childish brat who I don't know how, fell into my hands.'
'If I remember correctly, Peter.' Isabela replied venomously. 'This childish brat fell into your hands at your own suggestion and own free will.'
'What free will?' Peter asked cruelly. 'Who takes a burden on their own free will?'
'You did!'
'I did for Aslan only. Don't make the mistake of thinking I actually wanted to marry you.'
'Peter, if you can't speak politely to me then I ask you to get out.'
'Tell me Isabela, did you marry me on your free will? Why? Because nobody would take a nuisance like you on their shoulders?'
'Peter, you leave me! Get out!' she told his furiously. 'Please, Peter! Leave me! Get out! Please! I can't stand the sight of you!'
She hit her head against her bandaged wrist. Her teeth sunk into her lip causing a thin drop of blood to appear on her bloodless lips.
Voices sounded around her, a humming buzz and then somebody gently held up her chin to look at her face. Edmund grinned dramatically.
'Isabela!' he mockingly scolded. 'How could you cause me so much distress? Tell me, young lady!'
Then he saw her trembling expression and his face changed to bewilderment.
'Lia, are you hurt?' he asked anxiously. Isabela did not reply and for one instant Edmund thought she had died.
Her green eyes seemed to look past him into a new world entirely. It was freaky and a shivering feeling spread through Edmund.
He shook her gently.
'Isabela are you alright?'
Isabela glanced at him and tried to smile, nodding lightly. But the smile died before it reached her lips and only a faint, ghostly echo remained.
'Of course, I'm alright Edmund.' She said bitterly. 'Why wouldn't I be? I'm perfectly fine.'
As always.
Lies.
Mr. Tumnus burst into the room, his face ashen and a bleeding scar stretched from his forehead to chin.
'King Edmund! The camp is under attack!'
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And… Voila, my dear readers! Another chapter done and finished! I hope you all like it! And please do not feel shy to tell me your suggestions! I thank all my beloved readers and especially my reviewers who keep encouraging me on! Thank you!
A. L. Potter