Peter wasn't sure what woke him so he lay still for a few moments listening to his surroundings trying to understand what was happening. He could hear Lucy's soft snoring from a few feet away from him. He could hear Susan's deep breathing from the other side of the fire. Embers popped with the last bit of heat they still carried. And Edmund...well, normally Peter knew Edmund was still there by his tossing and turning, but Peter didn't hear anything from his younger brother. There was no rustling of surrounding trees or bushes. A creek was bubbling could be heard somewhere in the distance. There were no muffled footsteps, sliding rocks, crinkling leaves, or cracking twigs. Gathering that everything was safe at first glance, Peter sat up to take a better look.
Both of his sisters were deep in sleep, but Peter noticed that Edmund was nowhere to be seen. Slightly worried, Peter grabbed his sword from where it rested next to his resting spot and started into the woods heading towards the creek he heard. As he came closer to the creek, Peter started to hear the sounds of someone moving around. However, the movements didn't sound like someone engaged in combat. It sounded more graceful. Moving slowly, Peter eventually found a clearing that was lit by the light of the full moon. In the clearing was the tiny form of Peter's younger brother practicing his sword movements. After a few moments, Peter was completely entranced with the elegant yet deadly movements. After a few moments, Peter decided to step into the clearing.
"What's got you up working so hard at this time of night, Ed?" Peter whispered hoping he wouldn't startle his brother.
The younger boy swung around. "Hey, Pete. Did I wake you?" Edmund asked softly.
"No, I'm not sure what woke me, but when I found out you weren't at the campsite I came looking for you," Pete explained. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Edmund said.
"You're shaking," Peter pointed out.
"Oh, yeah, I've been at it for a while," Edmund admitted.
"You haven't been sleeping well lately, have you?"
"I'm fine, Pete, you don't need to worry about me," Edmund said looking at the ground in front of his feet.
"No, you're not, Edmund. You haven't been eating. You've lost a lot of weight and you didn't have any weight to lose, to begin with. You're sickly pale. And now I find out you haven't been sleeping. That's not okay, Edmund. You're my brother. I want to help you, but I can't do that if you won't tell me what's wrong," Peter pleaded.
"Just drop it, Peter. There's nothing you can do about it anyway," Edmund snapped back.
"Ed, what's going on?" Peter asked determined not to give up on his brother.
"Please, Pete, there's nothing you can do about it."
"Why aren't you sleeping?" Peter pressed.
"Because whenever I try to sleep I either get nightmares or I just lie awake thinking about...everything!" Edmund yelled. "There, you happy!"
"Oh, Edmund, nothing about you being in pain makes me happy. Sometimes, talking about the nightmares can help make it better," Peter suggested softly.
Edmund sank into the grass and Peter sat next to him. There were several moments of silence and for a minute Peter was afraid his brother wouldn't say anything, but then the boy began speaking. "It-it was so cold. I-there was ice all around, and the-the shackles around my ankles were...they were like ice bricks digging into my skin. Sh-she...when she took the fawn away-I was so...it was so lonely. The quiet was...eerie, but...eventually, I learned that the quiet...well I would rather have quiet than have them come." The boy fell quiet for several minutes, but Peter had a feeling it would be better to let Edmund take it at his own pace. Eventually, the younger boy started talking again. "I-it hurt so bad, Pete. H-her whip stung, a-and when it-when it hit me...I-I thought I would die. I-I wanted to die. A-and then...and then Aslan came, and he...he saved me...but then...well then he died...for me. Why? Why would he do that? After everything I had done, he...he was so kind, and then he died so that I wouldn't have to. I-I feel so guilty. I-It makes me sick just thinking about it, but...Aslan said...he said not to mention the things that had passed. Well, I...I've tried to let it be...but I can't get it out of my mind. And then there was the war. And you were going to die. I-I couldn't let that happen, Peter. Susan and Lucy need you, Peter! You can't die. I-I don't regret my decision to save you. It's just...it hurt so badly, Pete. B-before I, well...died, I-I was paralyzed. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move my legs, or arms. It just hurt...everything hurt so badly. You want to know what's going on, Pete, I can't eat because I wasn't allowed to so long that everything I eat comes back up either because my stomach won't allow me to keep it down or I'm so ridden with guilt that I end up getting sick about it. I can't sleep because of the memories or the nightmares. I'm cold all the time, regardless of how warm it is. I...I don't know what to do, Pete," Edmund explained. His eyes were blank, his face pursed, and his expression far away. Peter almost wished Edmund would start crying. Maybe that would make it less unsettling.