One more chapter left in Part II!
XLIV
EDMUND
No Light, No Light – Florence the Machine
It should have come as no surprise to Edmund that many within the travelling party held their own instruments. The Western Wood was hailed for its love of music and storytelling, with some of Narnia's most beloved pieces originating from under its shadowed branches.
All walked at a speed faster than before, somewhat spurred by the rhythmic beat of a tambourine or the skilled pluck of a lute. The ruckus proved both as a disturbance and an intriguing distraction to all who lived in their passing.
The music lulled them from the safety of their homes; many crawling, climbing and swooping in the direction of the noisy procession.
At the very centre of the line, sat Edmund himself; saddled securely upon Phillip's back as he waved cheerfully to the onlookers.
To his right, Grace smiled as she tugged the barely practiced tune from the bulbous wood. Her voice one of the loudest amongst the party. She'd taken to the music quickly – much to Edmund's surprise and envy. It had taken him months to master the difficult passages.
Granted, Grace still struggled a little. The intricate weaving of fingers sometimes falling flat when she missed a note, but the Daughter of Eve did not falter, she simply kept going.
Edmund admired the trait from afar as he hummed and nodded along to The Reindeer's Stride. It was a very good choice of song, for it was repetitive and fast paced with lyrics you sang over and over, faster and faster until you had to stop for breath.
He clung to the hope that the pace was fast enough as the line moved in equal tandem with the fall of the sun. If they continued at this rate, they would witness the tree line just as the warm orange of the dusk began to swathe across the sky.
Which would begin at any moment, judging by how the light which filtered over the hill in streaky beams.
Beneath Edmund, Phillip trudged onwards in silence. Thankfully, his mood had nothing to do with the argument he held with Starlight hours ago. That seemed to have all finished now, with both Phillip and Starlight reaching some agreement that remained undiscussed.
No, Phillip's silence was due to the focus he honed. Both eyes staring determinedly towards the ground with a frustration and vehemence. The path forwards was different now – fraught with the dancing figures of the party as they nearly caught underfoot. He'd nearly bitten three Narnians now by Edmund's count – an unspoken warning that they should be watching their footing.
As the top of the hill neared, Edmund wondered whether it was this or the next that he would finally be gratified. The days journey had already seen them wade through the shallowest part of The Great River and many hills after that, however, Edmund did not know the exact number of hills to be forded before one could see the beginnings of the Western Wood.
Was it eight? Or perhaps nine?
As if in response to his itching hope, two things happened simultaneously.
One, the Narnians who reached the peak of the hillside began to fan out along it's ridge and make way for the rest of the travelling party.
Two, the sky began to turn a magnificent shade of orange.
Edmund jolted to attention as he signalled for Phillip to move. The Talking Beast followed the instruction gladly, taking off at speed to climb the last of the grassy terrain.
"Make way for King Edmund!" Someone called, the effect of the declaration providing just enough space for Phillip's stride.
Grace was behind him, he was sure of it. The steady rise and fall of Starlight's hooves were unmistakable after four days in their presence.
Phillip began to slow as they neared the top, mindful not to trample any wayward Narnians who had not heard the call. As his footsteps changed pace and the rush of air ceased around him, Edmund's irises were met with the full force of the setting sun. He shielded them instantly, one hand still gripping the horn of the saddle as not to fall off.
Grace came to his side, her own hands mirroring his position as she adjusted to the fading beams of dusk.
"Are we here?" She asked, slowly retracting the temporary shade as her eyes adjusted.
Edmund discarded his own without thought, his dark eyes squinting in the direction of the tree line beneath them.
"We're here," He breathed.
In moments, the squint settled – the blinding brightness now replaced by the sight of golden tipped trees and hills spanning his entire length of view. He grinned - it didn't matter how many times Edmund saw the Western Wood, it was breathtaking just the same.
There was a glint of copper at the corner of his eye which danced tantalizingly out of sight. Edmund followed the strand with his eyes; instantly distracted from the sight he'd longed for and yet rewarded with another.
Grace stared at the Western Wood with an enrapturement that was deep and all consuming. Her eyes were lightened with its reflection. The golden tipped leaves leaving flecks of a similar colour across their endless warm blue, it almost looked like stars in the clear light of day.
"How do we do it?" She whispered, her voice barely carrying atop the wind which tugged at her fire spun tresses.
"Do what?" Edmund questioned softly, his eyes securely fixed upon the wonder of her face.
The spattering of stars danced across her irises as Grace turned to look at him, "Ask the tree's to move?"
Edmund felt his lips stretch into an all-knowing smile, "We do not need to ask."
Her brow's pulled inwards with confusion, "But you said-"
In a swift movement, Edmund held a single finger to his lips – a signal for silence – which was then pointed towards the tree line.
Grace didn't catch on immediately, her entranced stare tracing across his features as her confusion remained.
Edmund's stare turned stern, "Heed me or you'll miss it."
She did as asked, her eyes returning obediently to the gold hued view splayed across the western side of the continent.
Nothing happened at first and the world fell into a baited silence – only interrupted by the brush of the winter breeze which lingered lazily on their skin. Edmund refused to be disheartened by the pause, maintaining faith that the fruit of his impatience was worth the wait.
Grace saw it first; a fact evidenced by the expression upon her golden freckled face. Her lips parted in awe as the familiar rustling of leaves and roots in earth reached their ears. The interest in such an impossible moment keeling her forwards with a white knuckled grip upon the saddle horn.
Despite himself, Edmund felt his cheeks grow under the weight of his smile. Once he was fully satisfied with her response, his observance returned to the sight he knew all too well.
Even from this distance, the view was remarkable. The thickly nestled roots of trees lifted into the air like the crawling legs of a spider. Ploughing and shifting as they carried their trunks over the dark dirt. They crept apart slowly and purposefully, opening a path directly in the way of the party.
Something in Edmund's chest released at the sight of home, like a forcefully coiled spring which had grown tighter since his last journey to the Westen Wood. The snap of return didn't hurt, however, it only replaced what had shrunken over time. It stretched across his chest and relaxed there, melting into the warm recesses of home.
Beside him, Grace continued to crane her neck above Starlight's head, the interest now taking a feverish hue as she nearly stood from the stirrups.
An action which caused Grace to shriek when she toppled sideways.
Edmund reached out on instinct, relieved when his hand connected with the warm material of her upper left arm and stopped the quick descent.
Her shriek cut short at the point of his grasp, but everything else remained in motion. Grace continued to flail about, one pale hand gripping at the air in an attempt to right herself.
"Stop, you're tilting the saddle," Edmund grunted as his fingers crawled along the muscle of her arm to obtain a better grasp.
Grace's voice strained with exertion and panic as her left hand clung to the saddle's horn, "I'm slipping!"
And so she was. It was slower now, the friction of skin and fabric against leather providing a buffer which was sorely needed.
Against his better judgement, the remaining hand upon Edmund's own saddle flew to catch her waist. The movement nearly threw him overboard as he contorted awkwardly to ensure his thigh's still clung to Phillip for balance.
For all his efforts, Grace finally stilled; one hand remaining caught on the horn of the saddle while the other gripped the edge of the other end. She'd have nearly slidden clean off of the leather if it weren't for the one fabric covered knee poking over its seat.
Edmund would have laughed at the warped position if it weren't for the dire likelihood that she would fall. His lips tightened with humour as he attempted to keep it at bay.
Slowly, he helped Grace return to a seated position, taking care not to release her until her feet were firmly in the stirrups again. It was easier once she'd stopped flailing – the grasp of his hands upon her body now steadied despite their awkward positioning.
Edmund almost choked on his humour as he asked, "Are you alright?"
"I think so," Grace winced as she adjusted her seating, "Thank you."
Now that she was safe and settled it was hard to disguise the unbidden grin which spread across Edmund's face, "There's no need to thank me. If I had realised you would fall over at the prospect of moving trees, I might have forgone the grand reveal."
Grace scowled, "I didn't fall over at the prospect."
"You didn't?" His eyebrows raised in light hearted mocking, "Could have fooled me."
The scowl faltered as Grace lowered her eyes in shame, "I just wanted to see it better."
Edmund's grin softened at the admittance, "You liked it, then?"
He was rewarded with an expression of wonderous enthusiasm, "Very much."
"Good."
Beneath him, Phillip shuffled his feet impatiently, the fast setting of the sun had begun to set a dim and darkened nature that would not be released until dawn. They'd need to move quickly or they'd be tripping on tree roots.
"Onward!" Edmund called, one short pat to Phillip's mane to signal movement.
This time, he and Grace took the lead. Hooves stepping side by side in equal rhythm as they approached the tree line.
"It's called 'The Swaying Path'," Edmund uttered towards Grace, "We named it for its changeable nature."
The returning whisper overflowed with interest, "It's changeable nature?"
"The Swaying Path is unplottable due to its interchangeable course," Edmund explained, "The trees are told of the journeys destination and accommodate accordingly."
"I remember you said that the forest was overcrowded," Grace acknowledged, "But I still don't understand something."
Edmund waited for her explanation in silence.
"How did they know of our destination when no one was sent to ask?"
A familiar smile warmed his features. If Edmund was honest, he'd never had to ask the trees to move. They always had.
By his third trip to the Western Wood, Edmund had grown confused with the all-knowing trees and stopped to ask one personally. The reply had been startling to his own pride.
"There are two things which spread rapidly on Narnian soil," Edmund replied, his tone slightly conspiratorial as he leaned towards her, "One is feared and the other revelled in."
He felt the weight of Grace's gaze before he returned it, "What are they?"
"The first is wildfire," Edmund's lips tightened sadly, "A devastating foe. It takes more homes than it regrows."
Grace nodded, her glance flickering to the very thick and very flammable line of trees before them, "And the other?"
The previous dismay Edmund had felt began to lighten a little under his own cheek, "Gossip."
The crackling of passing fires provided comfort as Edmund's footsteps swept over the forest floor. There were five camps in total, tonight - the number having to be vastly reduced due to the risk of fire catching onto the thick expanse of tree life.
Thankfully, the number of encampments seemed to have produced little difference in regards to resources. The trees of the wood did well to shelter the heat by regurgitating it back into the air, and so the heat of five fires felt like the heat of many.
At this rate, the ecosystem would last long after the fires were put out, providing enough warmth and shelter against the winter raging outside until morning. This was lucky as there was hardly space to pitch a tent or to huddle many bodies together for warmth.
"All heads are accounted for, Sire," His companion, Sterillion, reported.
"Good," Edmund nodded, "Are there any complaints of hunger or warmth?"
The Centaur confirmed there were none.
A sigh of relief slipped past Edmund's lips, "Good. I want blankets to be distributed in any case and please do not spare any worries for food. We can resupply before we begin our departure to Cair Paravel."
"Is there a date in mind for our departure, your Majesty?"
Edmund paused in thought, his mind running over the list of tasks that would have to be completed before they could leave, "From tomorrow? Three days hence."
Sterillion gave a singular stoic nod of acceptance, "Will you need any to join your party tomorrow sire?"
Edmund looked appreciatively upon the Centaur, "No, not this time. Grace and I will journey alone to Mr Tumnus's home."
"And…" Sterillion paused, his expression wavering only briefly from the stoic mass of its usual expression, "Will Miss Grace be returning with you?"
Unwillingly, Edmund's sight drew towards a flickering fire in the distance. It was the furthest into the wood of the five, accumulating the group of Dryads, Talking Beasts and Centaurs which had made up the front most section of the line.
It was perhaps the quietest fire of them all, the only sound protruding from it being the deep russet tones of Casys's storytelling. Edmund had a feeling he knew who had requested such a thing.
Edmund's sigh levelled his own inner turmoil of emotions. No matter what tomorrow brought, there would be a turning point. Either Grace would leave and that would be the end of it… or she would return with him. The forked path lay heavily before Edmund as he viewed both sides through narrowed sight.
The implications of either option were no longer as simple as he previously thought them to be. For, if Grace left tomorrow, where would that leave him? Or Lucy who had also grown close to the Daughter of Eve. He knew that the Queen and her friend had said their goodbyes and parted in peace but after the events of tomorrow, could Edmund say the same?
At some point in their acquaintance something had shifted, and the distaste Edmund previously held for Grace had turned on its head. It grew in the direction of friendship with a renewed vigour as he learned to live side by side with the stranger he'd feared.
If she was forced to stay, there was no telling what the future would hold. Edmund knew the fundamentals would need to be looked after; Grace would need to be given a station of permanence, the ability to fund her own life and live as she saw fit. But after all was said and done, what then?
An impossible number of implications sat daringly on the edge of Edmund's thoughts and he decided then, that it was better to be cautious than to be caught unaware.
"Prepare for the return of all parties involved," He replied, returning the list of travelling party members to Sterillion's hands.
The Centaur took it, the hand immediately crossing against his chest as his head lowered, "Your Majesty."
Edmund nodded his dismissal, slightly relieved when he was no longer under his General's piercing gaze. His feet wandered closer to the firelight of the distance. Half-step in beat with Casys's story as it reached his ears.
He knew it well, the story of Baccus and Ariadne was one of Susan's favourites. The idea of instantaneous love had always been a fantasy she sought after, and so Susan held the story in high esteem and knowingly compared her own relationships to it.
It was one of the few nonsensical traits his sister held and it often baffled Edmund how she of all people could believe in such a thing.
He supposed, however, that his own definition of love was non-existent past that of the familial. Edmund never had time for such things before and found the eventuality unlikely in the future. For if love took time – as he believed it should – then how did those with no spare time manage it?
The story neared its end as Edmund reached the ring of firelit faces. All watched on, enraptured as the Centaur eclipsed them with images of starlit skies and forgiving goddesses.
The circle was as thick as the woods which surrounded them but Edmund found no trouble in his footing. He easily sidestepped the Talking Beasts and Dryad's as he waded towards the only empty spot in sight.
Grace didn't look up as Edmund seated himself on the grass beside her, her fascinated expression bathed in the flickering light of the fire as she listened to her friend speak.
The Centaur sat at the foremost point, his thick legs all tucked comfortably beneath him as he regaled them all with his tales. The sight of a Centaur and his story was not a rare one by any means, but that made it none-the-less revered.
Casys's dark eyes glazed over, a perfect black mirror of the fire's dance in his dark irises. As he spoke, his hands mimicked the words gracefully, adding a heightened level of performance to his speech. The image was completed by the solemn and assured look of his features – the kind of expression which could spout the most outrageous lie without falsehood.
An end to the story brought the sound of paws, hooves and hands on the dirt forest floor. It thundered across the space and encouraged all to join it - even those in the encampments over.
Casys lowered his head in thanks, a wave of emotion swept up in his dark eyes as he received the praise.
"Iterum!" One Talking Beast encouraged.
A Centaur joined the call, "Yes! Another one, brother!"
At the prospect of stories, Grace's eyes lit with a fervour, "Can you tell us another?"
Casys looked upon the Daughter of Eve kindly, "It is my regret that I cannot, I have duties to attend."
Edmund knew well that Casys's watch would begin within the hour and atop that, there were other duties which would need to be completed before then. It was for that reason only that the King did not egg the crowd on, "We thank you for your attentiveness to your duties, friend. Perhaps another story may be expected from you on the morrow?"
The Centaur's lips twitched gratefully, "You may expect as such, my King."
"Then go in grace, Sir Casys."
Any discontent that may have been founded upon Casys's departure was swiftly broken on the promise of the morrow. The hum of the Narnians who sat comfortably around the multifaceted orange flame settled into a developed calm as time went on.
Now free from her point of focus, Grace reseated herself upon the soft grass, her skirts draping over her legs languidly as she turned towards the firepit. She said nothing to Edmund, though, he knew she was aware of his presence by the set of her shoulders.
Her eyes glistened a dim blue as they stared ahead. There were troublesome thoughts within them that were nearly readable through the thin glass.
"Are you well?" Edmund asked, surprised when the words fell unbidden from his lips.
Grace sighed in that long and drawn-out motion she had taken to, "I'm fine."
One thick brow raised heavily upon Edmund's forehead, "Are you sure?"
There was a slight annoyance to the creased corners of Grace's eyes as she regarded him, "I'm only thinking of the stories."
Edmund felt his face fall blank as he struggled to make the connection, "What about them?"
"It was something your sister said," Grace whispered, "If only there was a way to bottle such a thing and take it home with you."
"You want to bottle the stories of the Centaurians?" A slight tinge of sarcasm coloured Edmund's tone.
Grace's eyes narrowed at it, "I think she meant to wonder at ways to listen to the stories without having to have a Centaurian present."
"Wouldn't that defeat the point?" Edmund reasoned, "The stories are half loved due to the way they are told."
"Exactly," Grace agreed, "Tone, wording, expression. These are all valid tools used to tell a story."
Edmund grimaced, "They are also all tools that are difficult to replicate outside of first-hand experience."
At the excellent point, Grace's shoulders slumped with defeat, "Thank you for pointing out the obvious."
"It's what I'm here for."
Silence befell them again, though the troublesome thoughts did not cease behind the clouded eyes of the Daughter of Eve. Edmund fumbled on the thoughts in his mind, at a loss of solution to the dilemma she deemed so important to her.
It was difficult to look at such a matter when one was so close to it, so physically attached to the memories and nostalgia of moments lived. The idea of reading the stories without the booming voice of a Centaur seemed wrong to him.
Aside from the reflexive reaction to the idea, Edmund found there was a little merit to it.
As it was, the only way to hear of the stories was from the source itself, which became difficult when one did not come across a centaur in everyday life. A disappointing fact, considering the stories were well written lessons that should be freely available to all on Narnian soil.
As a King of Narnia, equal opportunity was a cause that remained close to his heart.
"You could…" The words faltered on Edmund's lips, held briefly under the idea of such a task and the likely danger it imposed, "If it were possible to convince a Centaur to recite their stories at a speed which you could follow on pen, the words may carry some of the effect."
Grace's expression visibly lit up at the prospect, "Do you think any would be amenable? I would ask Casys but he has told me his knowledge of the stories are not complete."
"It might be difficult due to the proud tendencies of the Centaurian personality," Edmund replied thoughtfully, "And any that might be amenable within our party may not hold the prerequisite knowledge for such a task."
"Perhaps I might ask around tomorrow?" Grace wondered, "I'm sure Casys would know of someone who would be up to the task. Either that or perhaps I might combine the stories of many until they are all collected."
At the mention of the morrow, Edmund shook his head, "Neither of us will be available tomorrow."
Grace looked to him, the light of the fire only encouraging the curiosity in her eyes, "Oh?"
"That is…" Edmund cleared his throat with anticipation, "If you wouldn't mind joining me in a visit to Mr Tumnus's house?"
If curiosity burned then want was a raging blaze. It leapt from the darkened grey circles and danced across her cheeks as her neck craned towards the words he'd offered.
"You want me to come with you to visit Margrove's Uncle?" Grace clarified.
"Yes."
A moment passed where Grace did little but assess him. There was a slow but sure trickle of disbelief that cracked at her perfect want. It soured the emotion, replacing it with a guarded disbelief, "What's the catch?"
Surprise lifted Edmund's brows to his hairline, "Pardon?"
"The catch," Grace repeated unhelpfully, "You expect me to believe that you, King Edmund the Just, plan to take me to an unspecified location with no guards, orders or assurance to the outcome?"
Edmund scowled, slightly burned by the truth of it all, "Yes, I do. We have long been past such things."
Grace's eyes tightened, the beginnings of the narrowed gaze he knew all too well, "I suppose that is true."
It was a small victory that she did not continue the argument. The peace serving as the sought-after chance which Edmund would grasp with both hands.
"So, you will join me?"
The disbelief continued to lie snugly in the set of her lips as she considered, "You swear there is no ulterior motive to this?"
In a motion much similar to the Centaurian Bow, Edmund covered his chest with his right forearm, "You have my word."
There was an odd feeling to those words as they were released. Edmund knew it was partially due to the small lie within them. There was an alternative motive, there always was where he was concerned.
But surely, the half-truth was not so consequential? Surely, there was no harm in concealing something for the greater good?
Regardless of his own inner turmoil, Grace seemed to believe him. Her expression relaxed minimally and allowed for some of the pure desire he'd barely glimpsed before. The excitement that paired with it was nearly all-encompassing as she released a high-pitched sound of joy and sprouted from the ground faster than Edmund's eyes could follow.
She weaved through the crowd of Narnians with light-footed ease, somehow always managing to find an empty space to land her toes. Edmund followed, only slightly perturbed by her speed and efficiency.
They broke through the edge of the circle at speed, but Grace did not stop.
"Wait!" Edmund called as he barely dodged an unseen risen root.
Grace turned on her heel, her shadowed face seemingly surprised at his presence, "What is it?"
"Where are you going?"
She looked at him oddly, then pointed one finger in the direction of the next encampment over, "I'm going to get my tent?"
A rush of exasperated air left Edmund's throat, "And where did you think you were going to put it?"
There was a brief second of thought, punctuated by the opening and closing of Grace's mouth as she tried to form a reasonable explanation from it. She looked to the tree tops, then the ground, then the lack of space between the trunks surrounding them.
Edmund leant against one such pillar of bark, "They won't move for a simple tent, Grace."
"Then where are we to sleep?" She demanded, "I'd imagine we will have to rest before visiting Margrove's Uncle tomorrow?"
One of Edmund's thick brows quirked with obviousness, "Why, under the stars, of course? There is no truer Narnian way."
"You mean…" Grace trailed, eyes caught between their previous camp and the one over, "In a sleeping bag directly on the dirt?"
Edmund nodded.
Her lips pursed in thought, "Then, where will you sleep?"
The question pulled him up short. Every night before this one there was a purpose in the placement of his tent. Narnia was as wild as it was civil and often it was easy to become caught between the two.
From what Edmund saw and inherently knew of Grace, she held no survival skills to speak of. The dagger he had gifted her had offered some level of solace to Edmund's worries on that part, however, her knowledge in wielding it remained slight and so the solace matched its weight.
The Western Wood was no safer than the Northern Reaches or the Lands of the South. There were still many who were loyal to Jadis tucked in its deepest and darkest crevices. Edmund's mind drifted hauntingly to the anecdote Lucy had attempted to calm him with – of the Hag and her own bravery in defeating it.
It would be insupportable to leave Grace alone here, and since she was so opposed to guardianship it seemed Edmund was required to continue taking matters into his own hands.
"I'm sure the dirt beside you would be tolerably comfortable."
Grace's expression lightened with a touch of scandal, "Would that be proper?"
The realisation tugged at his mouth in an odd way. Edmund had never thought of what was proper when communicating with Grace before. He hadn't ever needed to. In terms of society she was a ghost, the court only knowing whispers of her personality by the second-hand knowledge of others.
The thought now occurred to him in blaring brightness; the closeness between he and the Daughter of Eve constantly sat on the borderline of unsuitable. Their mutual love of banter and outspoken wit would prove highly improper for the sight of others. Atop that, the sheer amount of time in which Edmund and Grace spent together alone went beyond what was usually allowed outside of family or courtship.
Edmund shuddered at the thought of Susan's disapproving gaze at his lacklustre show of manners.
Of course, the issue remained non-existent for the moment. Grace's greatest desire remained to return to Spare Oom and Edmund's friendship with her had only grown from his agreement to help her. There was no desire for friendship there, not initially anyway.
But what would happen if Grace could not return home?
If she were to continue living in Narnia, there would be repercussions upon all aspects of her life. Regardless of where she went or who she became, Grace would be beholden to the customs of the court, just as he was.
Edmund shrugged off the thought, there was no point in worrying over it now. They were not under the watchful eye of his elder sister just yet, and there was no telling what tomorrow may bring.
"Perhaps it may not be entirely proper," He mused lowly, the skin of his cheeks becoming unbearably warm, "If you are truly concerned for your virtue then I am happy to organise a chaperone?"
The dusky blue beneath Grace's eye lids rolled, "Don't worry about it. Considering how many Narnians will also be sleeping under the stars, I doubt it will be an issue."
Edmund's eyes cast to the blackness of the forest floor as he tried to focus on something other than Grace's face, "You aren't bothered then?"
"No," She replied easily, "Where I come from we don't really think of such things."
Edmund met her unbothered eyes with surprise, "You don't think of such things?"
Grace's lips frowned with nonchalance as she shrugged, "Not really."
The fluster in Edmund's cheeks amplified as he considered her response. His assessment, however, proved for naught. Grace did not falter, nor were there any signs of deceit in the relaxed set of her features.
"Right then," Edmund muttered, convinced but no less perplexed at the strange world of Spare Oom, "I suppose that settles that. Please, fetch my sleeping bag whilst you are there."
He had half expected her to scowl at the order, to make some rude remark and tell him to get it himself. But Grace still seemed to hold some of the excitement obtained from the knowledge of tomorrows events.
Her eyes were bright and mischievous as she lowered into an intentionally misshapen curtsey, "Of course, your Majesty."
Before Edmund could object, she was gone. The only tell of life being the distant rustle of her shoes upon the leaf covered forest floor.
His eyes narrowed into the darkness, a slight irritation tickling his throat as he grumbled, "It's Edmund."
Of course, there was no response but the sound of leaves rustling between the topmost branches of trees. If one squinted, the noise was most alike the scandalised whispering of a crowd after a particularly risky manoeuvre at Court. He knew it well.
Edmund looked upwards, his dark eyes catching glimpses of starlight through the brief openings of leaves.
Silently, he hoped that there were no Dryad's nearby to interpret the sound.
