Edmund scuffs his feet along the dirt trail, the toe of his boot catching on a clump of determined weeds. He catches his balance and lifts his feet a bit higher. Weariness is fighting to overtake him, though. Now that they're finally in Narnia, his body is demanding recompense for the hard days of travel and little sleep in the Giant Lands.
Edmund runs a hand through his damp hair and clamps down on a yawn. They may be several miles past the Shribble, but there are still too many things to figure out before he can allow himself to give in. He filled Peter in on some of the basics over their hours of travel, but they'd been busy receiving scout reports and getting the company out of Giant Lands as quickly as possible. Edmund still wants to hear Peter and Phillip's side of things, and then they'll have to figure out what to do about the Giants, and the humans in league with them, and the Corsecan princess, of course, and-
"Ed," Peter says, breaking Edmund's focus. He pulls Edmund to a stop with a hand on his shoulder. Edmund shrugs him off reflexively, but then he turns to face his brother. They've both bathed in the creek and donned clean clothes already, but Peter's blond locks look nearly dry already. Beneath his bangs, though, are the creases in his forehead that grow more pronounced every year. He carries things too heavily on his own shoulders. And usually things he has no right to take on, Edmund thinks as Peter's eyes flit toward Edmund's former wound.
"It's completely healed," he sighs and runs a hand through his hair again. "You saw for yourself." Edmund had noticed his brother's worried glance when he'd removed his blood-stained shirt earlier, too.
"I know," Peter insists, but he continues to frown at Edmund. With an impatient shake of his head, Edmund turns to continue down the path toward where the camp has been set for the night. "What did happen out there?" Peter prods. Edmund glances at his brother for a moment, and then away toward the north. They're too far into Narnia now and too deep in the forest to see any sign of the mountains he's spent the last few days trying to survive. Edmund turns back toward camp and strides forward, just barely spotting an upturned root before his scuffing feet find it.
"It was a disaster," he summarizes. "From the very beginning, everything went wrong." Edmund picks through the underbrush and Peter falls in behind him. Since the end of the Giant wars they haven't patrolled this area as much, and the trees are starting to retake these paths. Edmund makes a mental note to do something about that before remembering what he'd been saying.
"I shouldn't have sent Cellox back so soon," he admits. "Or I should have taken more precautions. More men, as you'd suggested. Maybe it would have helped." Edmund scrubs a hand down his face with another sigh. "Or maybe it wouldn't have changed anything at all."
"So next time you'll be taking a full battalion?" Edmund scoffs a 'not likely'. Peter knocks his shoulder into Edmund's as they reach a wider portion of the path. "Fine, at least ten to your squad, then." Edmund opens his mouth to protest. "And two of them will be flying beasts," Peter interrupts. Edmund sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
"Depends on the circumstances." Peter raises a brow and Edmund can feel his brother's gaze on him.
"Negotiable," he finally acquiesces. Edmund snorts, knowing the only direction he's negotiating will be downward. There's no stealth to be had with a large unit, and no speed either. Not to mention the false security of a large group at your back. Who's to say he wouldn't have tried fighting his way out any number of times if he'd had more men? And how would that have ended?
"Well," Peter says, once again pulling Edmund's focus back to him, "As Lucy repeatedly reminded me while you were out there, Aslan knows what he's doing." Edmund nods, knowing the truth of that too. There were so many times he'd felt Aslan's presence even in the cold, barren wastelands of the Giant territories— so many gentle nudges in the right direction, and comfort in the darkest moments.
"But all the same, I'm glad to have you back." Peter grins at him and throws his arm around Edmund's shoulders. "And as usual, you managed to come out on top. Even with only three men. And a princess in tow!" Edmund rolls his eyes and pushes Peter's arm off, but he can sense the teasing smile even without looking at his brother.
"I think you mean despite," Edmund mutters. Peter laughs heartily, shoving Edmund's shoulder harder this time. It's a testament to his weariness that he actually stumbles a step off the path. He scowls at Peter and conspicuously lifts his feet out of some brambles.
"She doesn't seem that terrible," Peter laughs. "And she did save your life at the end there." Peter becomes suddenly somber, and Edmund nods solemnly. He swallows hard, remembering the blood all over Serena's hands and clothes. She probably had saved his life. Lucy's cordial would have done little good if he'd bled out before she got to him.
"She ended up alright," Edmund agrees, "But in the beginning I truly thought she was worse than useless." Peter snorts a very unkingly laugh. When he's mastered his humor he opens his mouth to say something. Just then they round an outcropping of boulders, though, and see Lucy and Serena coming toward them. Lucy had opted to oversee the setting of camp while Edmund and Peter had gotten cleaned up, but they must be heading to the stream now.
"All set up?" Peter asks jovially. Lucy gives them an uncharacteristic scowl and a terse nod without stopping. Peter and Edmund step aside to let them pass and then turn to stare after them. Lucy and Serena quickly disappear behind the boulders without a word.
"That was odd," Peter says quietly. Edmund nods absently, but, facing north again, his thoughts quickly turn from his sister's out of character greeting. There are bigger matters to deal with right now. Edmund quickly scans the woods and spots one of the guards following the girls at a respectful distance.
A dark-furred Wolf nods a bow to the two kings as well, skirting around them on the rough trail. His fur is not quite as solidly black as Adan's, but the resemblance drags Edmund's gaze back to the north. It's been hours since Cellox went back for Adan, and there's still no sign of them.
"They'll be back." Edmund looks at Peter, but his brother is studying the skies to the north now too. "I've never known either of them to fail to report," Peter adds, "and I doubt they'd start now." Edmund frowns at the treetops. The sun is already approaching the horizon, sending its last golden rays over the treetops before painting the sky in shades of red.
"Ed." Peter returns his arm to Edmund's shoulders and turns them back toward camp. "If they're late, there's a good reason for it," he insists. "And Aslan knows what he's doing there, too."
With a final glance back, Edmund nods and allows his brother to nudge him toward their camp. Adan and Cellox can handle themselves, and worrying about them won't make any difference. There's only one being that can assist them right now. Please, Edmund silently pleads, keep them safe, Aslan.