Alright guys, I've got some news for you. It's bittersweet, so bear with me. I've decided to get a beta for this story because while I do have a very strong idea of where I want it to go, I really feel like this story needs an extra set of eyes going over it before I post. That's the good part. The maybe not as good part is that I'm not sure what this means for updates yet. I'll obviously keep you guys informed, but at the moment I'm looking at putting all my stories on hold to finish this one. That looks like no updates for at least a month, after which the updates will come on a regular schedule. So just a little patience on your part and a lot of intensive work on my part and we're looking at a much better story with scheduled updates after a little bit of a wait. I am quite excited about this, and I hope you guys are too. Okay, enough business!
Thank you to you lovely reviewers in particular! For last chapter, that was liz-04, sarahwood, and Guest. Reviews never fail to make my day! And of course, thank you as well to everyone who's favorited/followed/read this story thus far :)
Chapter 6
When the camp starts humming to life, Miranda stands from her log, rubbing her backside where it's gone numb, and hurries over to see if she can make herself useful. There's a lightness to her step that puts her in a mood to be as kind as possible. It takes her the skip back to camp and into the cooking area to understand that she feels truly safe. She hasn't felt that in…a long time, she realizes. Quite a long time, and it feels so good that she could just sing. It'll fade of course, but for now she can enjoy it.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asks a faun who seems to be in charge of breakfast.
She's directed to cut up fruit, a task she does with a bounce in her step and a grin still on her face. If her cheerfulness is annoying to anyone, they don't say a thing; in fact, some of them hum along to the tune she whistles intermittently.
After breakfast, she seeks out Suncloud and asks if there's a way for her to train. She wants to feel useful, and she wants to make the best of this temporary high while it lasts.
"Come with me; I will teach you," replies the centaur with a kindly smile. She realizes she feels safe with him too, and it boosts her mood even more.
They train with the others in the practice area, with wooden swords that are just a little crooked. But she holds her own, or at least, as well as she can for her first lesson, and Suncloud tells her to be proud because she's made a lot of progress just in one day.
Miranda is still practically skipping as she titters through the camp, looking for something else to do. She spent a few hours with the sword, and there must be something else for her to do, but it takes her the better part of an hour to find it. She ends up running into Ironhoof, Suncloud's brother, and she learns that he'll be helping with the raid Prince Caspian is planning on the Telmarine's supply wagons down by the Ford of Beruna. She wonders aloud when it'll be, and Ironhoof tells her tonight, and she asks if they need a distraction. He's surprised at her offer, to say the least, but he brings her to the group of them planning the ambush.
"She's small and quick; she might just be what we need to draw the guard."
"You are willing to do this, Miranda?" Prince Caspian asks, as if he can't believe that the girl who jumped at the sound of his footsteps last night wants to throw herself headlong into a raid where she could be hurt much worse.
"I want to help, and if this is how I do that, then yes." She's proud of the strength in her voice; it fuels her energy, which seems to be running boundless today. Maybe it's the lack of sleep? No, she knows she's thriving off of this feeling of security. She wants to give back, somehow.
Narnia. A world that's real, and a world that she just might be able to make a difference in. A world where, maybe, just maybe, she can really be safe and feel safe and find some sort of goodness in people.
Prince Caspian exchanges a look with Glenstorm, and at the centaur's nod, he tells her where to be and exactly what to do. It involves a simple hit and run, but she has another idea.
She's also keenly aware of how the idea will sound, so she keeps it to herself as a last resort kind of measure.
Dusk comes, dinner passes, and she marvels that she ends up sitting with Prince Caspian. How it happened, she's not sure, but she can't find it in her to be scared, not tonight, not after she realized that Narnia is safe and so are the people she's with. She can't wait to tell all this to the doctor, whenever she finally meets him or her.
"Why did you volunteer to help tonight?"
Miranda turns to Prince Caspian with a smile.
"Prince Caspian, I meant what I said last night. And I'm so glad you didn't push me." She leaves it at that, even though she can tell he's curious.
"One thing, Miranda; I would have you call me Caspian, without my title. There is no need for it."
She smiles broader in reply and says she'll remember that.
Her good feeling lasts into the night, even as they're preparing to leave and Prince Caspian is asking if she's sure she can keep up.
Her reply is a confident yes, one she's sure she wouldn't have been able to make yesterday. She feels powerful now, and she can't place why, but it's intoxicating. She's also keenly aware that this feeling won't last forever; she needs to take advantage of it when she can.
The small, stealthy party of a few dozen hurry through the woods until they reach Beruna, where they pick a pile of logs to hide behind. Miranda splits off with Suncloud to do her part.
"Remember, whistle twice if you need help," the centaur tells her as she ventures toward the open, still hiding in the shadows when she can.
She gives a thumbs up and delves right into her task.
The first guard is relatively easy to distract; all she has to do it toss a pebble off to his left and he scurries off to investigate. The second one needs a rustle of leaves and the thud of a rock before he leaves his post, and the third waits until he hears her whisper floating through the night breeze to go off toward the woods.
The fourth and fifth won't budge whatever she does. So she goes with her last resort and prays the Narnians aren't watching her every move too terribly closely.
She slips from the shadows into the main path through the encampment. She makes sure her shadow passes through the remaining two guards' lines of vision. And she walks toward them, hunching over just a little to make it look like she's sneaking without knowing how.
"Hey!"
Perfect.
They both come over toward her, and she looks up at them through her lashes.
"I'm sorry," she whispers in her most feminine voice. "I'm looking for Sasha. I don't suppose you've seen him?"
"Sasha?" one of them gruffly asks.
"His aunt told me he's working here, felling the trees of this awful forest. We were engaged only last week, and I already miss him so. Forgive me, I just have to see him. Do you know where he is?"
She makes sure to arch her back and appear as helpless as she can. A needle of fear pricks at her stomach, but she ignores it. She knows how to handle them, she's sure of it. Suncloud's training has seen to that, though he wasn't targeting this type of scenario.
"The workers' tents are over there," says the one to her left.
"Why go to Sasha when you could have a night with me?" whispers the other one, lowly so only she can hear. The gust of air against the shell of her ear sends chills down her spine, but she puts on her most flirtatious smile.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, good sirs," she coos. She'd be disgusted with this behavior under normal circumstances, but tonight the Narnians need her help, and she's determined to give it to them.
"Let me show you."
She flashes the lewd soldier her most winning smile and quietly agrees to follow him and asks the second soldier to accompany them, so she'll feel safe. It works, perfectly.
She lets them lead her to a tent that's on the edge of all the others, and she quickly assesses everything she can reach the second she's inside. She doesn't think after that, she just does.
Within ten seconds, she's grabbed the crossbow sitting just to her left and hit one of them over the head. Within fifteen, she's hit the second one and they're both lying crumpled on the floor.
Power surges in her again, warm and heady and oh so addicting. She likes this sense of control that comes with striking back.
She doesn't waste any time getting back to Suncloud. He sends the signal that the coast is clear in the form of an owl's hoot, and then the Narnians swarm the supply wagons.
It's all surprisingly efficient. Unfortunately, Prince Caspian ends up scratching a message, presumably for his murderous uncle, in the door of one of the wagons and taking a little too much time. Two of the guards she distracted are coming back, and she has to tug him away herself, and even then his struggle is making a ruckus and she has to hush him with a hand over his mouth. Quite a feat, considering he has several inches on her.
"Two soldiers were coming, we had to go," she hisses to him as the party melts away into the forest again, and she with them.
He nods once, or at least she thinks he does; it's the dark grey before sunrise, and it's still hard to see.
They get back to the camp in the morning, when those of them carrying weapons go to unload and Miranda stumbles to the sleeping area and is out before her head even hits the ground.
When she wakes, it's daylight, almost high noon by the sun. And apparently another raid is in the works; she passes the same team, with Prince Caspian in the center, on her way to the practice area as she's trying to stretch the kinks from her back. They wave her over, and she trots up to them happily. She likes feeling like she made a difference, that she helped.
But already the safe feeling is wearing off. She thinks Prince Caspian notices; he keeps looking at her, concern on his face, and she has to force a few smiles to keep up the pretense. Everyone else seems to buy it, but he doesn't. No, he still looks over at her, as if he's waiting for her to topple over or some such nonsense. It's concern if ever she saw it, and she can't fathom why he cares so much when they barely even know each other. For that matter, she isn't sure how he can read her so well either.
"Now Miranda, because you distracted two of the guards personally last time, you'll need to stick to a hands-off approach," Ironhoof tells her.
"Or not." All twelve heads turn to look at her in confusion. "They know me; use that. Sneak up behind them, I'll be in front of them, and you clonk them on the head while they're busy staring and imagining ways to slit my throat."
No one notices the slight twinge of dark humor in the statement; a collective nod greets her proposal.
"We should have enough weapons after this raid with the ones we're making at the How," Prince Caspian says. "I think that just might work."
"The How?" Miranda didn't mean to ask that out loud in the interest of not wasting everyone's time, but Prince Caspian quickly explains.
"We've sent some of the Narnians to Aslan's How, a few days from here. They've been making weapons and training there."
"Ah."
Now they group has moved on to more tactician, wartime topics, so she excuses herself and proceeds to the training area where she finds a young faun to practice with. He gives her a few tips, but their level of experience is about equal, and so the most help they are to each other is sparring. She isn't sure about how she'd feel being taught by a half-goat who's about a foot shorter than her, anyway.
"Perhaps you should move your feet further apart?" the innocent little creature, with tufts of brown fur on his back that Miranda would just love to pat and stroke, suggests.
"I'll try. And maybe you should keep up your sword a little." He takes her suggestion to heart, and the spar continues until another interruption happens upon them.
"You both need to move less frantically."
Miranda turns to regard the young bearer of the voice that broke her focus. A child centaur, who has apparently not matured enough for a shirt to be necessary. This ruffles Miranda the wrong way, but she hides it for the sake of the poor child's feelings.
"How do you mean?" she says instead, deciding to humor the centaur because the creature does sound like he knows what he's talking about.
"I mean you both tend to just swing without thinking. Take the time to think, and you'll improve."
"Solid advice," Miranda says. "Who told it to you?"
"My uncle, Glenstorm. He's kind of the commander around here, second to Prince Caspian of course," he answers, still standing tall and proud on his colt's legs.
"What do you think of Prince Caspian?" asks the faun beside her.
The centaur shrugs, almost as if he's indifferent. "He's nice, and he speaks well. But I think he has to grow up a bit more before he's ready to seize his throne."
"What makes you think that?" Miranda asks, even though she kind of agrees with the perceptive child.
He shrugs again in reply. "He just thinks with his heart. A king has to think with his heart and his head. That's what Trumpkin told me, at least."
"Who's Trumpkin?" Miranda hasn't heard that name before, though the cadence is familiar.
"He's a red dwarf who was quite good friends with Nikabrik and Trufflehunter. They all lived in a tree not too far from here."
"And now? Where is Trumpkin now?"
"Nikabrik said that the soldiers chasing Prince Caspian took him. He charged them, and now we don't know if he's alive or if they killed him." Big tears fill the child's eyes, and Miranda hugs him without thinking.
"He'll be alright, you'll see." Of course, she has no idea if he will be, but this is what the child needs to hear, so she gives it to him.
The child sniffles into Miranda's shirt for a few moments before straightening stoically and thanking her.
"I've got to go practice my archery now, but perhaps I'll come by to give you advice again." And with that, the child trots off, flaxen tail swishing as he goes.
Miranda stares after the young centaur in blatant awe. That was no child; perhaps it was the war that made him grow up so quickly?
"Shall we?"
Miranda practices with the faun until they're both exhausted, which takes them well into dusk. They go together to eat dinner, and Miranda ends up sandwiched between him and Suncloud, a happy occasion because she's missed her conversations with him, even though it's only been a day or so.
"What made you decide to jump in to help with the raids?" he asks her as soon as she's gotten her plate of food.
"I'm not sure. I suddenly felt safe, and I wanted to give back somehow." She thinks there might be more, but that's the answer that feels right.
"You do seem less…how would you put it? Jumpy?"
Miranda nods. "I am."
"May I inquire what inspired this change of mind?"
Miranda falls silent, because she doesn't want to admit that it can be traced back to the action of one person. But Suncloud is her friend, even if a new one, and she thinks he can be trusted to keep his mouth shut if she asks him to.
"Don't you dare repeat this, but it was the prince. He walked away when I didn't want to open up. No one's done that before."
"You're happy because he walked away?" Suncloud sounds incredulous, and a part of her doesn't blame him. It is a bit odd, from a certain perspective.
"Yes."
Their conversation moves to small talk, something that relieves her. She can do small talk, she can hide away with the simple words about nothing in particular.
She suddenly wonders if she can go to the How, to help there after the raids are finished. Didn't the prince say something about training there?
After dinner, she makes a point to seek out Prince Caspian and ask him about this. To her surprise, he agrees to send her out with the next group, even though she tries to tell him that she can get there on her own if he tells her which way to go.
"It is not safe for anyone to travel alone," is his reply, one that annoys her but that she has to respect. She's grown to respect him a bit, just from his speech at the meeting before. It impressed her, though she's loathe to admit it a small and tiny part of her wants to impress him as well. She's also quite sure that she'll never admit to that again either.
"When does the next group leave?"
"The last one leaves in two days, and then the rest of us are going. We hope that the Kings and Queens will show up in these woods, since this is where I blew the horn."
"Oh." It makes sense, and it also makes sense for her to leave now because she doesn't know what to say.
That night, she helps with the last raid just as she said she would. It makes her happy, helping, even if it's dangerous and gets her heart pounding. They do appreciate the help, and it makes her feel useful, needed, like she's not just a waste of space here, not one just hanging out and wasting time.
She still blushes at their thanks when it's over, however, and she can't help it. Even if she's doing something they appreciate, she can't shake the feeling that anyone else could do it too. Deep down, she knows she wants more than to just be a decoy, but she also understands that learning the art of war takes many years, and years are something neither she nor the Narnians have.
"I wonder sometimes if there's something I'm missing, you know?" she tells Suncloud the day before she leaves with the group for the How. They need someone to organize them there, and she remembers being good at organizing things, and she thinks she could be of use, even though Narnians are different than files.
"You can think on it, but you're doing so much already. More than we expected you to do, far more. You understand that we are grateful for that, don't you?"
She finds it far too easy to brush off the praise, especially in her own head. She's not doing anything special. If she's being honest, she's just using all this as a distraction, so she won't think of any of the other things that are fighting for attention in her mind. She knows a war is no place to have constant flashbacks, even though they're determined to plague her at night.
That's the other thing; her visits home at night are rare and sporadic. Sometimes she's there and without fail it's in the middle of the night when no one else is around, and most times she simply sleeps through til morning.
And what happens on Earth while she's here? Is she in some sort of coma, or is she just asleep? What do the doctors think? When will she be able to leave the hospital? It's stupid really, that one tiny whiff of paranoia was enough to land her in the hospital with surgery.
"I practically walked myself into that damn hospital," she whispers to herself one night, another night when she can't sleep and she's taken to the woods to think on her own.
"If I asked you what that was, would you tell me?"
"You really ought to stop sneaking up on me," Miranda tells the prince as he comes up behind her.
He chuckles lowly. "Perhaps you ought to sit facing the other way."
She slowly swivels to face him, grinning at him as the moon peeks through the trees. "And where would be the fun in that?"
Prince Caspian comes and sits on the log beside her, where he's taken to sitting the past few nights. It seems he has his own trouble sleeping. She's never asked, because it seems rude to inquire when he's never demanded answers of her. He hinted that one time, but ever since he's left the subject be. She's eternally grateful for that, especially when she knows he must be curious.
Maybe it's time to let him in, just a little little bit.
"You once asked me why I'm up at strange hours of the night. I never asked you, but now I'm too curious not to."
Prince Caspian's gaze goes to his hands, hands that wring and twitch with what she can only guess to be anxiety.
"My uncle," he finally says.
Miranda hesitates a moment before she decides to speak what she really thinks. That's what friends do, right?
"That's not all is it?"
He shakes his head, hair flopping and hiding his eyes. For some reason, it tugs on her heartstrings. She doesn't know why, and most of her doesn't like it.
"No."
"You don't have to tell me, Caspian. But if you need a pair of ears, mine are open."
He stays quiet for a long time, long enough for her to worry that she's offended him and he's not going to be here when she can't sleep any more. In her own way, she's come to depend on these quiet conversations, moments that feel stolen in the middle of the night, when they're really just matters of convenience.
"I wonder if I can do this, Miranda."
"Do what?"
He shrugs. "The war, leading the Narnians. I am a Telmarine; my ancestors trampled on them for years. What reason do they have to listen to me, to follow me?"
"The reason you gave them."
He looks over at her, but she doesn't take back her answer.
"I mean it. They believed that speech you gave them. You should believe it too."
Caspian stares at her long and hard, as if he's trying to figure out if she really meant what she said, and if she did, whether he should believe her or not. Miranda stays silent to allow him to sort it out on his own. It's what she would want him to do for her were their positions reversed.
After what feels like hours he nods, a simple dip and rise of his head that somehow means more to her than anything he could have said. They spend the rest of the night sitting quietly side by side, both looking out at the forest, and both, she thinks, feeling much calmer than before. She keeps getting the overwhelming feeling that she can trust him, only she isn't sure how yet. But she decides then, sitting on the log in the quiet of the greyish early dawn, that someday she will.
The sounds of the camp coming to life again force them to stand and walk back. Miranda sneaks a look up at Prince Caspian through her eyelashes as they go, and she's surprised to see him looking tranquil, at peace. It warms her deep down to think that some of that might be because of her.
When his hand brushes hers, whether by design or by accident, she doesn't pull away like she would expect herself to. His fingers wrap around hers and squeeze for half of a moment, and then the touch that sent a strange sort of spark through her is gone.
That was his thank you; she understands that. When he peels off to his tent to put on his armor over his nightshirt, she surprises herself by looking back, just once and only for a moment. She's never looked back at anyone before. Not since before that night she's been trying very hard to forget.
This, of course, brings much of it rushing back, and she hustles to her usual corner in the sleeping area and uses the excuse of folding the blanket she left rumpled haphazardly to block the thoughts. She doesn't have to think of that now.
By the time she sits down with everyone at breakfast, she's forced the memories down so far that she can barely remember what was bothering her in the first place. She humorously wonders if it's possible to do a psychological analysis on oneself, because her head is a strange place that she'd love to understand more.
Breakfast she spends with Suncloud, speaking of small things, mostly his childhood and hers, and getting into the more advanced getting-to-know-you stage. She's silently grateful to him for befriending her, for helping her overall feeling of security. She'll have to remember to thank him out loud, to his face, someday soon.
"When do you leave?"
Well, the conversation has switched to the daily schedules, another comfortable topic that Miranda has come to enjoy over the past few days.
"Soon after breakfast, I believe, so in less than an hour."
He grins wryly and winks at her. He's made a habit of this, she suspects because it looks so strange on a centaur's face that it makes her giggle.
"Try not to miss me too much, Mira."
Mira is his nickname for her, one that she's never had before and hence one that she likes very much indeed. She's considering having everyone call her that, but then it would stop being Suncloud's special nickname for her, and she likes having the simple reminder of their friendship.
"I shall do my utmost," she replies, attempting to imitate the Narnian disdain for contractions and informal speaking.
"Train hard while you're there."
She nods enthusiastically.
"I'll make sure I can at least match you by the time you slowpokes get to the How."
He snorts, a very appropriate thing in her opinion, seeing as how he is half horse.
"A few days' training will not match you to me. I have been trained since I was but a colt."
"Then let's hope I've got some hidden talent for weaponry," she fires back.
The banter between them makes her feel welcomed, at home, here. It might just be one of her favorite things that they do.
Just then, the call goes out for the party leaving to assemble, and Miranda has to stand and say goodbye to her friend. He pretends to pout for a few seconds, a rather ridiculous sight, before bending over to give her a warm hug. Ever since she's explained the concept of bear hugs to him, he takes every plausible opportunity to attempt to crack her spine with them.
"You'll have to try harder next time," she wheezes after he lets go and her back hasn't cracked.
"I can try now," comes the twinkling reply that has her prancing away and laughing.
"Save it for when you come to the How and you've had the time to miss me."
He just waggles his head at her and shoos her on her way. She smiles as she goes, just because she's happy. Being happy feels good; it's a feeling she would love to get used to.
When she gets to the tree where the rest of them have gathered, she's a little intimidated that she doesn't know any of them. They seem nice enough, however, and introduce themselves with ease. Four fauns, a Minotaur, and a talking bear. The bear's name she remembers best: Bulgy. He seems a warm and cuddly sort, the kind of bear that she finds it easy to think of as a walking and talking stuffed animal.
She spends much of the first leg of the trip with him, for warmth now that autumn is on the way and there's a slight crisp chill in the air. And then there's the fact that he's a bear and he's taken a shine to her as well, and he's another person she knows is safe.
Only since coming to Narnia can she so easily differentiate between safe and unsure. It's nice, and it's new.
Why couldn't things be so simple back home?
Thoughts of her real life haven't plagued her much in the past two days, both because she's been busy and because she's been so content that it felt wrong to consider it. But here on the road, where only Bulgy really notices if she talks or if she's silent, it's a little easier.
'No. Thinking about it won't help,' she sternly tells herself. She knows she's right, but the temptation remains. Not knowing what's happening back home is a worrisome thing, so she can't really be blamed for letting it weigh on her. But there's nothing to be done about it.
"I don't suppose you have any honey?"
Bulgy's innocent question jerks her back to reality, and she silently thanks him. Out loud, she apologizes and says she doesn't, but if she ever finds some he'll be the first to know.
He babbles on about honey, presumably because he hasn't had any in a long, long while, and bears do love honey. Miranda thinks back on the large container of honey in the pantry back home, and she wonders if there's a way to get it here. But she can't think of a way, because she isn't physically traveling to and from Narnia. She comes here when she's asleep at home, and no other time.
Midday comes much sooner than she expected. She uses the opportunity to get to know her other companions, the fauns and the Minotaur, a bit better, to help her put faces to names and such.
The fauns are mostly focused on the war, so they spend some time discussing the current situation at the How, or at least the little they know, and how they can up the efficiency. The Minotaur is silent and solemn, but he's nice enough when she asks him things about himself.
They're back on their way after their meal, and they travel into the night, stopping only when the moon is high in the sky. Personally, Miranda is exhausted, and falls asleep almost as soon as she lays down. She finds herself instinctively curling into the tightest ball she can manage to protect herself among strangers. Needless to say, she sleeps closest to Bulgy Bear.
sarahwood - I'm glad you got that; I thought it was a good idea to at least bring you guys in on Miranda's backstory. As for Caspian, well, keep reading ;)
Guest - Thank you! :)
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