The path was lost.

Aravis knew coming by herself had been a bad idea; she knew that now, with the storm raging through the skies, her mare (not Hwin) flinching under her legs, and the path nowhere in sight.

But she'd needed time to cool down, after Corin's latest prank and how Cor had laughed at it—

Grinding her teeth only got rain-water in her mouth. Aravis sat straight, fearless, as befits the daughter of a Tarkhaan, and tried to find the path.

But nothing shone in the darkness, the mountain had too many straight falls to trust something that went down, and she just didn't know the way. At this point she might end up in Narnia.

How Corin would laugh at that. Still, Corin laughing at her was better than dying. Even if he did dump a bucket of honey on her and pop a feather pillow over her (again), that would be better than this storm, without the hope of home.

Thunder rolled overhead and her mare flinched again. Aravis stroked the quivering neck with one hand, still looking about her. "By Ta—by the Lion's Mane, I can see nothing! Why does the North do all things without moderation?" she asked her horse. But of course the mare did not answer. Aravis took a deep breath. "If we stay on the top of the mountain, we shall not fall, and we may reach somewhere with shelter." Squeezing her legs, she urged the mare forward. "Go on."

The mare moved, unwillingly and slowly, but she moved. Aravis was glad; she hadn't wanted to dismount and walk, for the horse picked her way across the mountains better than Aravis would. If only Aravis could see!

Thunder rolled across the sky once more, and the mare picked up her pace. Aravis drew back the reins, slippery leather in her fingers, trying to slow her down. Haste was dangerous. Surely there was shelter somewhere near? Or better yet, the path?

A spear from heaven stabbed downward to Aravis' left, making everything white or black; her mare shied, giving a horse scream, and Aravis' shouting was lost in the crack of thunder that drowned the world in sound.

Gone the next moment. A tree crackled, flames spurting from the branches, though the rain already made them smaller. Gasping, Aravis patted her horse with trembling hands.

"The bolt of Tash," she whispered, and she couldn't say if she was crying or it was the rain. "I ran away. I disowned him. The bolt of Tash came to punish me—"

The flames grew smaller, though she still shook as she looked over. It could have been her. It might have been her. If Tash had been aiming…

The path shone in the light of the dying flames, right by the struck tree.

Aravis stared.

Her horse, sidestepping, brought her back. "It's all right," she soothed, though her own voice shook as she stared at the path. It was growing less visible, the flames almost put out, except on the trunk, and Aravis pulled the reins towards it. "It's all right," she repeated, just beginning to believe it. "We're going home."

She went around the tree, as far as she could without going near the edge. But once they passed it, she glanced back. "That wasn't the bolt of Tash," she acknowledged, voice still unsteady. "Tash—Tash would have hit me. He wouldn't have shown me the path."

The path, marked with white stones on either side, was easy to follow once found, and Aravis tried to devote all her mind to following it, but she kept thinking back to the lightning.

The strips on her back from a Lion's claws.

The fear that drove her and Shasta together, the roar she'd heard in her dreams for a night or two.

And the conversation He'd had with her, to explain things, so she could understand. Understand justice, and understand Him.

Tash was such a paltry thing in comparison.

Two miles later, the rain eased, the forest began thinning out, her mare plodded on with the step of an exhausted but calm horse, and Aravis' hair kept getting in her eyes. Taking a small chance, she lifted both hands from the reins, wrung out what water she could, and tied it back with a sopping, slippery white ribbon.

"Aravis?" she suddenly heard thundered from her left, and when she turned, Cor and Corin, mounted on horses, both kicked their mounts in identical movements and began thundering towards her.

Her own mare shied, then snorted. "I agree, they're being silly," Aravis assured her. "But they are boys. I'll get back at them later, when I am less tired and cold."

"Aravis! Are you hurt? Where have you been?" Cor shouted, reaching her first and reaching to grab her arm.

"Of course I'm not hurt! Let go!" she shouted back.

Corin slowed his horse, looking at the two of them. "I'm going to get father," he said suddenly. "He's worried." He turned his horse in one smooth movement—much smoother than Cor's would have been—and called over his shoulder. "Aravis? I'm sorry about the honey!"

"Now he's sorry," Aravis muttered. She glared at Cor. "Are you?"

"For what? For worrying? For grabbing your arm? Aravis, you had us worried sick! Father knew these storms sometimes sweep in over the mountains—"

"For laughing."

"I'm not laughing!"

Aravis looked at him, at the total confusion on his face and the way he searched her face like she'd lost her mind, and gave up. "I'll argue with you about this later; just forget it till then. Get me home."

"Fine," Cor answered, scowling, but he turned his horse. "Home is this way."

"Good," Aravis muttered. "How close is it?"

"About half an hour's ride."

"That's not soon enough," Aravis sighed. "Aslan already sent one lightning bolt to get me home; I don't want him sending another one."

"He sent what?"

Aravis ignored him. If she could wait to argue about what he'd done, he could wait to get his curiosity satisfied.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to tell the story more than once. It was a tremendous thing—but also a terrifying one, to know the keeper of the lightning bolts cared about whether or not she made it home.

Prompt 20: A strike of lightning