Hello everyone! We're back in business. I apologize that the hiatus was longer than expected. Turns out taking a senior seminar a year early is super stressful and time consuming...because of that I'm not yet sure what the update schedule for FE will be from now on. I'm hoping for every two weeks, but it might end up being once a month. As a heads up, from mid-April until the first week of May I'll be swamped with the research paper of the century, so an update won't be coming in that timeframe without a miracle. But hopefully when summer break gets going I'll have a little more time on my hands. :)

Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me this far. And special thanks to Universal Lego for the most recent review, it really helped get me back in the writing groove and, well, it was just super sweet and thanks and you're awesome :)

Chapter 19

Only one month, and now it's come to this.

She tries everything to get away, everything in the world she can think of amid the blinding, choking fear. If she could just get those hands off…

Gagging as her throat constricts further, she wonders vaguely how badly it will bruise and how she can hide it. Then at last, one of her kicks hits home and the crunch of a breaking bone echoes in the night air.

A howl of pain breaks through the haze buzzing around her ears and the hands loosen around her neck. With eyes glazed over, she tries to aim a final kick to finish it. This second one is weaker than the first, but another splintering, crunching sort of sound rewards her efforts. She must have hit the same spot as before, and now the hands are gone and more screams are filling the night.

She should move.

She needs to get up, to pull herself to her feet and run as she's never run before in her life. But when she tries to just sit up and get her feet under her, her body won't listen and she finds herself back exactly how she started – on her back, the ground wet with the recent rain under her, and a throbbing, aching neck. She still can't make out much of anything…but if she stays here, she's as good as dead.

She's got to run.

But how? How to run when her legs won't even pretend to listen to her?

Too weak to force any sounds from her swollen throat, she can only mouth the name and pray he somehow hears her.

'Aslan,' she whispers in her mind, her lips shaping the word.

There's nothing else she can do.

She isn't sure how long she lays there, she's only sure that her neck hurts, dear Lion it hurts, and it's hard to breathe as deeply as she wants to.

Lying here with her head swimming, it's easy to remember how she got to this. The shot rings through her ears over and over again, as deafening in her memory as it was only minutes ago. If only she'd -

One of the hands from before returns, this time clawing at her side before settling on her arm. Is she going to just let it grasp at her like that, let the same hand that murdered…

'Aslan, please,' she whispers again. It just can't end like this, not now, not when…

The shot rings in her ears once more and all at once there's nothing left but white-hot anger, burning at her insides and giving her a new and dangerous kind of strength. She's not sure what exactly she does with that sudden need for revenge, to make him hurt the way he's made so many others hurt, but whatever it is, it's intoxicating.

By the newest shouts coming from him, she's indeed made him hurt, and it feels better than she ever could have imagined. Still hazy, she lashes out at him in any way she can, almost without knowing what she's doing. All she knows is there's blood on her hands now and she can't stop, can't keep herself from tearing into him again and again and relishing in those screams. It's his turn to scream, and it's so very long overdue.

However long that goes on, she could never guess. But when he's still beneath her and her energy begins to drain away once more, she stops at last and looks down at her work.

He deserved this.

He deserved this and more, but she can't bring herself to finish him. He's incapacitated; that's all she needs to get away. There's nothing left for her here anyway.

But isn't it fair that he pay for what he's done? Isn't that what he's earned after taking things from her she could never get back, taking even more from her best friend? He's taken at least one life; why should he not pay with his own?

That's not the way of Aslan, nor is it the way of Narnia.

She has to let him go. She has to trust that Aslan knows a better way, knows how to keep him from hurting anyone else.

It pains her to do it, pains her so much she forgets about her neck for a moment and almost cries, but she leaves him there on the ground without touching him again.

Stumbling along through the forest, all she can think about is how much she wants to turn around and make sure herself that he won't hurt another girl. When she trips and falls between two trees and instantly feels the pull of magic, she's a little reassured that she's done the right thing.

When Miranda wakes, she's not so sure.

Someone's calling her name. Is that same someone responsible for the jostling of her shoulder? She wants to move away from it, but she quickly realizes her body will not cooperate.

But maybe she can at least open her eyes, just so they know they can desist with their annoying shaking that's sending sharp little bursts of pain down her neck. So she tries, and she does, and she's ever so relieved to see a familiar and friendly face.

"Mira?"

She wants so much to say hello, but she can't. She can only try to smile and hope she looks as glad to see him as she is. In doing so, she realizes how shocked Suncloud looks, almost as if he's seeing a ghost. Wanting to reassure him, she opens her moth before realizing, once again, that speaking is out of the question.

He looks down and suddenly seems to notice her bruised and swollen neck for the first time. So many questions are in her friend's eyes, and if Mira looks closely she thinks he looks a bit older too, older and wiser and just a little sadder.

"What happened, Mira?"

Maybe he's saying her name so much because he's still half-sure she's a ghost. She wants to convince him she's not if only for his own peace of mind, but now she's weakening again and she still can't talk anyway, so the whole enterprise is rather moot. The last thing she knows is Suncloud leaning over her with worry in every line of his face.

Waking up comfortable is a new experience, a strange feeling that's just pleasant enough Mira doesn't quite believe it.

Yet, when she blinks open her eyes and decides to make sense of her surroundings, she has to believe it. The bed is right under her, and blankets are tucked snuggly around her, and pillows are cushioning her head. Somehow, some way, she's out of the woods and she didn't kill him and…

Lion, what if he's found a new target already? Who knows how much time has passed in her world by now? And if indeed he has, who's to say she'll know one way or the other, and who's to say that fresh blood isn't on her hands? There's already so much…

At once, she has to know if her hands look as bloodied as she thinks they surely must be. Working them from the sheets proves a frantic struggle, one that ends with her panting from the effort and her arms shaking from the same, but she at last sees those two hands of hers.

Spotless. Clean.

How odd.

A door she hadn't noticed before clicks open, startling her badly enough that she can feel her heart stutter.

It's only Suncloud, and yet she's as nervous as if it were a complete stranger. Has a mere month set her so far back?

"Good morning," Suncloud says, clip-clopping into the room with the same worried lines in his face from before.

"Morning," she muses. Is it morning? It must be; sunlight is streaming through the sheer curtains. "Well, good morning then." At once, she's startled again by the sound of her own voice. It's so hoarse, hoarse and rough and gritty. Brittle, like glass.

Suncloud clops closer and stops beside the bed, regarding her with pinched eyebrows and unsure eyes.

"How…" her old friend clears his throat, tries again. "How are you feeling?"

Mira considers this, realizes she doesn't know.

"I don't know. I'm...I don't know."

Her hands wring together once more, tangling in the edge of the sheets. How can she not know the answer to that simple question?

"Breakfast is on its way," Suncloud says after a strange and uncomfortable pause. "Are you hungry?"

Is she? Perhaps she should be; after all, she can't remember her last meal.

"I suppose so," she answers. "That'd be good, yes."

There is so much more Suncloud wants to say, and yet he only nods and stands there silently, looking at her and then looking everywhere but her. His questions spiral in his eyes whenever he meets hers.

"You can ask, Suncloud," Mira sighs at last. "Best get it out of the way."

Her friend shifts on his hooves, avoids her gaze for agonizing moments more, before answering.

"If it's too soon-"

"It's fine. Like I said, I'd rather get it out of the way."

That way, once it's out there she can forget all about it and not have to recall it again. Her month home is one of those things she would give anything, anything at all, to forget and never remember as long as she lives.

Suncloud's mouth parts and the first syllable of one of his questions spills out, but there comes a knock at the door before he even gets out a whole word.

"Your breakfast." The centaur opens the door quickly and ushers in the maid with quiet thanks before sending her right out again. Mira looks at him, confused.

"You were never very fond of strangers," he explains. "I thought…well-"

"Thank you." Mira smiles as he brings the tray over.

The moment the smell of porridge and eggs and toast and fresh fruit wafts from the tray, Mira's stomach sees fit to growl rather enthusiastically.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I guess I was hungry after all."

Suncloud is uncertain again, and it must be that he doesn't know whether to ask his questions now or to wait until after she's eaten.

"Go ahead," Mira says through a mouthful of poached eggs and lightly browned toast. "I don't mind, really."

Now that's a bit of a lie, but white lies do serve a purpose at times.

Suncloud shifts around more, but at length he does spit it out like she's hoping he will.

"Where have you been? We were all so worried, and we thought…" Suncloud can't finish, and Mira is only confused. They thought what? Well, she can answer that later.

"I went home to help someone," she says, pausing to pop a slice of apple into her mouth after the salty eggs. She fights back a grimace; apples are rougher on her tender throat. "I did leave a note."

"Yes," Suncloud says. "But that was so long ago."

What? She remembers only a month. A month can't be that long, can it?

"What do you mean?"

Suncloud looks at her incredulously. "Mira, you've been gone for four years."

What?

"Four years?"

Mira isn't sure if that's her voice cracking through the air, even as the last syllable echoes on the tip of her tongue.

"Are you sure?" She can't have heard that right. That's impossible by all the laws of logic, every last one of them. Mira opts for another piece of apple to crunch on while she waits for her friend to answer, ignoring the discomfort of the rough fruit skin.

"You heard me correctly. Was it not so long for you?"

Mira swallows the apple and takes another bite of eggs, delaying her answer. She ends up pushing the words past the half-chewed egg because Suncloud looks so curious and even worried.

"Try a month," she mumbles.

Silence descends, and when that bite of breakfast is gone Mira doesn't reach for anything else. A month was four years…that's enough to quell her appetite for days.

"Time is…different, between your world and Narnia…" Suncloud gets out, now as thoroughly shocked as her. "It could have been much worse, I suppose."

Mira can only stare down at her hands, sticky with apple juice and keenly aware of a pesky crumb in the corner of her mouth. It occurs to her that getting rid of the annoying remnant of her eggs-on-toast is a good idea, but she's frozen with shock as the reality sets in.

Four years…four years…

Suncloud's words echo in her mind on repeat.

"What's happened here?" she hears herself ask, the words thick and distant on her tongue.

"King Caspian has been away for almost a year seeking the Seven Lords of Telmar. They were his father's closest friends. The Giants of the North have surrendered, as have the Calormen armies."

Mira is thankful she at least attempted to learn about Narnia before her unplanned departure, or she'd have no earthly clue what Suncloud was talking about.

"That's…good?" She has to guess, of course, because those things sound all well and good but other things could have happened that her friend isn't mentioning. Similar to how she has no intention of divulging what exactly happened in the past month for her, he could be leaving out things as well.

"We thought you dead, Mira," Suncloud suddenly blurts. "All of us who knew, and even with the note, after four years…it's a shock to see you."

Now she truly is speechless. Why would they think that when she'd already died?

Oh. She failed to mention that, didn't she? Both in person and in the note. Well, better to address that than what the most recent happenings are.

"I'm sorry," Mira says. "I suppose I should have explained things better."

Suncloud looks at her askance, confused and hopeful.

She clears her throat and begins, "You recall my distinct lethargy the last few days I was here?" At his nod, she continues. "Well, that was because I'd already died. No, I can't explain it. All I know is that I fell asleep, woke in the hospital, died, and somehow woke up in Narnia."

"You never said anything," Suncloud answers, the hurt singing through the air.

"I should have, I know," Mira says. "But I didn't know how to say it. I thought I'd have time later to explain, but..." Her gaze slides back to the tray of apples and the rapidly cooling eggs on toast.

"I suppose I can't blame you."

Mira is seconds away from exhaling in relief when Suncloud opens his mouth again.

"But Caspian will want to know more. He was worried, Mira. He worried for months, years."

She acutely remembers his concern; it was, after all, a mere month ago for her. He had suspected something was up, but she didn't have the strength to tell him then. But now, after everything else, that seems so pale and insignificant compared to what she'll be keeping from him now.

"I'm sorry about that, I truly am," she says. "I'll explain when he arrives."

Oh god. When he arrives, he will want to know more than just that, if he catches even a hint of how she's changed. And she told him in the note that she was going to help a friend, and he is sure to ask how that went, and she has already decided that is not something she will discuss.

"I think that would be well." Suncloud jolts her from her escalating worries and she can only pray he can't read them on her face.

Her mouth dry and throat aching from all the speaking, she asks, "When will he be back?"

"Perhaps in a few weeks, perhaps another month. We aren't sure of the precise date."

That gives her more than enough time to disappear again. Of course, she'll remain in Narnia this time but better to disappear and pull herself together alone than deal with the questions and the concerns she's not ready for. If she stays here to work it out, she'll only be a burden.

"All right," is all she says.

Suncloud narrows his eyes at her changed tone. Gone is the shock; withdrawal has taken its place, and they both know it.

"I'm just getting tired," Mira explains with a pinch of guilt in her gut.

Suncloud nods, though his suspicion still lingers in the creases around his eyes.

"I will return in a few hours' time. Rest well."

With that, she's left alone with her thoughts in a room that suddenly feels far too large.

It should be a relief, having the room to herself, with no one asking her questions and no need to use her voice. But there are far too many shadows, even with the morning sun shining through the sheer curtains. Not even the sun can chase away the shadows in the corners and at the edges of the furniture.

With so many shadows, it's easy to think one of them is moving. Easy to think she can see a pair of glinting, victorious eyes shining out from the darkest of them. Easy to wonder if she should have finished what she started. Who knows where he is now?

Mira's neck aches at just the vague, flickering memory of him. That shot still rings in her ears. She wishes desperately that he'd shot her instead.

A bird chirps outside the window. It's a cheerful, innocent sound but it makes Mira's body tense just the same. Even friendly things seem like a trap now.

The bird cheeps again, brown wings and orange chest fluttering in and out of Mira's line of vision. Doesn't it have better things to do? Catching worms, say?

This is technically her time to rest, but how can she sleep with that chirping bird and all the shadows? Even the bed feels too confining, the sheets too tight around her legs. How could she run, tangled up so?

Mira supposes she's meant to be on bedrest, but there's not any rest to be had, so she wiggles out of the covers and plants shaky feet on the floor. The stone is almost unbearably cold beneath her toes. She straightens her legs and pushes off the bed to stand anyway, ignoring the shivers that suddenly arrest her body. At least the cold will keep her alert.

She's safe here, and she knows that. But feeling restless and on edge is an old habit, hard to break. It hasn't been years for her.

Mira begins by pacing the room, investigating each shadow personally and periodically. If it looks like one of them is even considering moving, she darts back over on numbing feet and makes sure it stays put. On her fifth revolution about the room, she starts looking for a space to try to rest. The bed is out of the question; it's up against a wall and it doesn't leave many options for quick escapes. No matter how unnecessary such escapes will be, she'll feel infinitely calmer knowing she simply can.

She checks the wardrobe first. It's the hiding instinct's first choice. But there's only one door and not nearly enough dresses and long cloaks to conceal her entirely. Next comes the floor in front of the mirror. It was her favorite spot the last time she was here; she could see all around her and knew instantly whenever someone was at the door. But now all those shadows she inspected seem to dance at the corners of her peripheral vision. Like they're toying with her.

Mira shakes off the shivers on her skin and continues on to the bathroom. It's bigger than the closet, and perhaps the towels will hide her. But the moment she steps inside, all she can see is the one door and one chance to make it out. She races back into her room with her heart pounding against her ribcage. The veins in her neck throb.

Next the sofa. It's comfortable, perfectly plush and easy to sink into. And it's not too confining. It's the best option thus far, if only it didn't have a back. Mira can't see over it easily enough to suit her tastes.

She tries the chair at her dressing table, each corner of the room, the rack of iron tools next to the fireplace. Nothing suits her. She could scream.

And to make it even better, the door to her room is closed tight. On the one hand, this affords her privacy from any prying eyes, and no one here would enter a room they weren't invited into. But on the other, she's boxed in, contained in a strange room with no other way out than that one door. Ignoring the window, that is. It's a long way down from there, and she knows she'd have to be truly desperate to use that exit.

Boxed in with dancing shadows. She'd have given anything to be worried about nothing but shadows not two days ago.

At last, Mira finds some cobbled-together solution. She liked being next to the iron fire poker, and she liked feeling hidden away in the closet. With hands that shake a little less than before, she retrieves the sharpest of the fire tools and shimmies under the bed, right in the middle. She's hidden, she can slither out three different sides, and she has a weapon clasped in her hand. It's the best compromise.

She wouldn't say she rests, but spotty sleep is better than none.

The slight clicking and creaking of the door flings Mira from her restless napping. Her hand tightens around the fire poker, the iron cool and heavy against her fingers. Her nails dig into the pulpy flesh of her palm. Her breath stills in her lungs, though her heart picks up a stuttering and frantic rhythm.

"Mira?"

No need to be afraid, she reassures herself; it's only Suncloud, come to check on her after her so-called rest. Still, she slides out the side farthest from him so he won't know exactly where her new hiding place is.

He calls for her again. She starts, still half concealed by the bed-skirt. The fire poker rattles against the stone floor.

"Mira?" Suncloud calls again, the name flying toward her just a little quicker than the first time.

"I'm fine." Mira finally gets free of the bed and hurries to get her legs underneath her. "I'm here."

When she stands, she meets the darting eyes of her centaur friend and is at once relieved she no longer has the iron fire tool in her hand. What questions would come from that?

Suncloud tries to smile, the corners of his lips twitching upwards, but his eyes betray him; though his lips succeed in curling just the tiniest bit upward, his eyes are stormy and heavy.

"Are you well?"

Oh, the caustic replies she could toss back at him. Mira is tempted, sorely tempted, but then she'll run the risk that her behavior will attract even more confusion than it has already. He's not seen the fire poker, nor does he know precisely where she was. She can use that. Never mind that there's no need.

"I was just looking for something." she lies. It should bother her that the fib slips so easily from behind her teeth.

Suncloud nods once, a sharp and curt gesture that instantly chills the room. If she didn't know him so well, Mira would assume he's angry with her. But no, he's merely afraid. Not of her, no, that'd make no sense. But for her, perhaps? Or of another disappearing act?

"I'm not going to vanish," Mira whispers. The quiet murmur tickles and pecks at her throat.

Suncloud shifts from hoof to hoof.

"You should rest, Mira. It will help you recover."

She nods, casting her eyes down in the hopes he won't see that she, quite literally, can't. She's not ready for even Suncloud to see that telltale sign of her difficulty yet. The state of her neck when he found her was more than enough as it is.

"I did." Lies are so easy now, but then again she did have to use them quite often in the past month. Her lies far outnumbered her truths, but it had to be that way.

Suncloud clops closer, a blatant apology swimming in his eyes as he says, "I would have given you the cordial, but it is with King Caspian."

"I know." Mira climbs back into bed as she does her best to reassure the centaur that it's fine. She's not so very sure he's reassured.

"Perhaps something cold –"

"No." She winces at the snap in her voice. "I mean, no need. I'd rather not feel anything around my neck."

Suncloud looks anywhere at all other than at her. Mira immediately regrets her words, but what else could she say? She couldn't have endured anything in close proximity to her neck no matter the reason.

Time to change the subject. Anything to stop those silent questions, that unspoken worry in Suncloud's gaze.

"Where's the library?"

"Library?" Suncloud echoes. His brow furrows as he stares back at her, confusion slowly taking the place of concern.

Mira wets her lips and wills her voice to stay steady. "Sleeping won't pass all the time."

Especially because she'll be lucky to sleep at all.

Suncloud nods slowly. "I can bring you the books, if you wish."

Does he think her so fragile she can't find her way through a few hallways? Besides, she'd rather pick out the books on her own. Will he suspect her intentions if she asks for what she really wants?

Mira is afraid he will, so she simply asks for histories of Narnia and her neighbors, on the pretense that she never finished educating herself. She thanks him when he returns with the books and curls up in bed with the first one in the stack. But that night, when the rest of the castle is asleep and the dancing shadows are the worst they've been yet, she slips from her room on her tiptoes and wanders around the deserted hallways, jumping at empty corners, until she finds the library.

She spends all night poring over the maps. She can't, after all, stay here forever.

And Arc 2 begins! Do leave me a comment or message me with your thoughts, I love hearing from you guys :)

Universal Lego - Wow, thank you so much! I'm very flattered. The waiting period is now officially over ;)

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