It wasn't often that the Gentle Queen went riding by herself. She liked the scattered, cheerful voices, the never-ceasing footsteps, and the clink of metal or dishes sounding in the hallways. She'd go out with a maying party, or on a trip, and she loved the woods and fields of Narnia too—but she was not usually by herself.

On very rare occasions, however, she would sling her horn over her shoulder, take her bow and quiver, and ride out alone to a grove of cherry trees. Once there, laying arrow to string as quickly as she could, she would shoot down cherry after cherry. They were often too small to eat, and she knew she was not doing any harm, but there was something in the draw, the quick release, the arrow flying exactly where she wanted it, that felt like release. On days when one too many things had happened, when her siblings were not there to speak with, the Gentle Queen went to her orchard.

She'd come today, but the cherries were still flowers, white petals covering the three trees, a few dropping into the stream that ran across the clearing.

Susan did not shoot from over there. The ground was almost always wet, and she did not want to dampen her bowstring, nor her dress. She kept to the firm ground parallel to the stream, and let the feel of pulling the bow, and the sound of the arrow whizzing through the air, release the uncomfortable things within.

Today, Susan had come because her siblings were gone, and because a new nation (a tiny island near Galma) had sent an ambassador. Normally that would not be a problem. New nations and new people meant new friends, new knowledge, and a little bit of excitement. But this particular ambassador was scared of animals.

All animals. Unless they were bigger than himself. Even Susan could see the foolishness of sending someone with fears like that to Narnia, yet this nation had done it anyway. So Susan had spent most of her morning soothing her guest, or giving orders to keep most Narnians out of a certain wing of the Cair, and in making sure the dinners were served by Marshwiggles, Centaurs, or other large Narnians. Susan released the bow with a particularly quick motion; the arrow sailed high above the cherry trees and curved down just beyond them, hitting a leaf on the ground.

It just seemed so foolish, as Lucy would have said. Susan nocked another arrow.

Why send someone too scared to speak? Why make the impression of a nation so bad?

She released.

She watched the arrow hit a cherry with perfect aim, falling to the ground with a soft thump and a splash.

A small cry sounded a moment later. Susan dropped her next arrow, stunned for a moment, before gathering herself and running towards the sound.

There wasn't usually anyone here, she told herself. She couldn't have known—they wouldn't be badly hurt—

"Hello?" she called, dodging around one cherry tree. "Is everyone well? Did I hurt anyone?"

Stopping on the other side of the trees, she looked around. Green grass, the stream, no one she could see—where was her arrow?

There, right in the middle of the stream, the end plunged beneath the water, but nothing squirming on its end. She closed her eyes for a moment in relief. With careful steps Susan approached. The stream ran a little wider than her arm, as deep as her knee, not deep enough for Merfolk to swim. Unless it was a Beaver? But she couldn't see anyone. The arrow stood straight up from the middle of the water, and through the water she could see a cherry on its end.

"Hello?" she called again, more calmly. "Is anyone here?"

The wind in the leaves was her only answer.

She reached for the arrow, bending to pull it out, shaking it to let the water run off. The cherry fell back into the water with a soft plop, and a tiny meow sounded from a bit away. Susan pulled back at once.

"Hello?" she asked again.

"Kit, is that a Daughter of Eve?" came the not-quite-whisper of a very young voice.

"Shhhh!" came the whisper back. "Daughters of Eve can hear."

"Then you shouldn't have shushed me!"

"Neither of you should be talking! Be quiet!"

"Too late, fair cousins," Susan commented, amused. "Will you not come out?" Another meow answered her, but nothing moved. With a half smile on her face, she crouched closer to the ground. "See?" she coaxed in her gentlest voice. "I mean you no harm. But I should like to know that you're unharmed, and taken care of. Will you not come out?"

"I think she means it," one voice said, slightly louder.

"But we don't know!"

"And we're not supposed to talk to strangers till Mother gets back!"

Susan could not help it; she laughed. The arguments sounded a bit like some she'd heard from her siblings, when all four had been younger. "But I am not a stranger. Do you see this bow?" and she held it out towards the long grass by the river where the voices seemed to come from. "This is a magical bow."

"It is?" two voices squealed.

"Yes, it is. It was made for me by Father Christmas, the first year I came to Narnia."

"That's not true!" another voice contradicted, indignant. "Only Queen Susan has a bow like that!"

"True," the Gentle Queen agreed. "And I am Queen Susan."

Silence met her remark.

"You don't believe me?"

"Is she wearing a crown?" one voice muttered to the others.

"I don't know, I can't see!"

"I'm going to take a look!"

"Don't you dare! If Mother finds out—"

But the words came too late; the grass stirred, and a very muddy kitten emerged, a few blades of grass and a leaf stuck to the mud. The Kitten had at least one white ear, and a white-tipped tail, and Susan thought it might be orange under the mud. It blinked large blue eyes at her.

"Well?" she asked it gravely. "Do you think I am Queen Susan?"

"I think you might be," it answered slowly. Raising its voice, it called, "She hasn't got a crown, but the bow smells funny! And she's really pretty, like Mother said she was!"

"Thank you," Susan answered as seriously as she could, and added, "Greetings," to the two other muddy kittens who spilled out of the long grass. One only had streaks of mud running down its black and tan striped coat, with a little cluster of it on its head, but the other was so coated with mud from head to tail-tip that Susan had no idea what colour it was.

"Why are you here?" she asked them. "Where is your mother?"

"She went hunting—"

"We're too small to go—"

"We were supposed to stay hidden, but Marv didn't do that!" and the clean one glared at the first one.

"He did think I was the Queen," Susan reminded her, tone gentle.

"Oh, no, not that. Before then. We were supposed to stay in the box Mother had the Dwarfs make, but Marve decided to go exploring, and fell in the water! Martin and I went to help him, but none of us can swim, and Martin couldn't pull him out, so a Bird swooped down and picked us up, but now we're on the wrong side of the water! And we don't know how to get back! And we're supposed to be quiet and stay safe, but how is Mother going to find us if we're quiet?" The kitten's voice had gotten higher and higher as she spoke, and now she burst into little kitten tears.

"It's all right," Susan comforted her, reaching out to stroke her head, while Marv looked away and Martin sidled up to his sister and began licking her ear. "I can get you back across the stream."

"No! We have to do it by ourselves! If we get ourselves in trouble, we have to get ourselves out!" Sniffing one more time, she glared at her brother. "Marv should get us out!"

Squirming, eyes darting this way and that, suddenly Marv froze.

"Marv?" his sister asked.

"I can do it! I know how! Martin, Mauve, look at the magic bow!"

Susan looked with them, at the bow resting on her lap with one hand on it.

"It's long enough to fit across the stream! We can walk across it!"

"I'm not sure—" Susan began, but her voice was lost in the excited squeals of the kittens, and Susan looked at her bow again. It wasn't that wide, but they were cats. And it was long enough.

So she picked it up and set it across the stream, looking back at the kittens to find Marv scowling at her. "We should have done that," he informed her haughtily.

"What you should have done was asked to use my bow," Susan reprimanded him, but her words hid her chuckle.

"She's right," Martin put in. "May we use your magic bow, Queen Susan?"

"You may. Thank you, Martin."

"Then I'm going first. I want to go home and get myself clean." Without a bow or word or anything else, the cat spun on his hind legs, crouched, and then bounded across the bow, springing so quickly it barely had time to bend under his weight.

"That's an excellent idea." Mauve sniffed once, crouched, and then she too was across.

"I didn't mean now!" Marv meowed after them. "What about Queen Susan? What if we never get to talk to her again?"

"I shall try to come back," The Gentle Queen interjected. "And you ought to be home before your mother finds an empty box."

"Grownups always spoil the fun," Marv grumbled, but he too crouched and sprang away.

A little bemused, but feeling somehow much more rested and at peace, the Gentle Queen picked up the bow-bridge, and apparently the proof of her royal status, and mounted.

When her siblings came back that night, she would have a lovely story to tell them.


Amnesty Prompt 3: One time Susan used her bow in an unexpected way.