Giants in Narnia? They'd ignored her question, or maybe hadn't heard, and she can't help continuing to fret about it. Serena had heard a great many things about Narnia since their first encounter with Corsecant several years ago. There had been a few Corsecan ambassadors sent there, after all— and they'd all returned with many fanciful tales. But one thing she thought was consistent was that Narnia had been successful in pushing the Giants back into their own lands.
Surely their luck couldn't be this terrible, to not only be pursued by her mutinous guards but to also cross paths with Giants trespassing in Narnia's northern lands. But luck, it seems, is not on Serena's side– not yesterday, and certainly not today. And then, the worst thought of all occurs to her. Are we even in Narnia? When she had been told to run yesterday, she'd been directed to go south. In those first panicked hours she'd done just that, using the position of the sun to aim roughly south. The only thing south from Corsecant is Narnia, so they must be within its borders by now, right?
Serena barely pays attention to the whispered conversation between Sir Edmund and the Wolf, too preoccupied fretting about Giants and mountains and half-remembered geography lessons. She can feel the trembling of the earth beneath her feet, though, separate from her own body's trembling from the cold or else from fear, she can't quite discern.
If there are Giants ahead and men behind, what chance do they have at all? Maybe we would have a better chance with the humans. But then she thinks of yesterday– of the sickening sounds as her guards turned on each other, the scrape of metal, the screams of pain cut short, the coppery scent of the air. Her throat constricts and she starts to feel as though she can't get a full breath.
"Princess," Edmund hisses. She opens her eyes, not even remembering closing them, and sees his grim face before her. He takes hold of her elbows, grounding her in the moment, and the scent of blood fades away, replaced by the crisp, cold mountain air. The ground is still now, she realizes, and when Edmund continues to look at her expectantly, she also realizes that he must have asked her something.
"I'm sorry?" she says shakily. The Wolf makes a noise like clearing his throat, and Edmund looks away for a moment as he takes a deep breath.
"I need you to follow me, right behind me," he says slowly. "Step precisely where I step. Can you do that?" Serena looks between him, the Wolf, and the dim woods surrounding them before giving a hesitant nod.
"I can try," she replies softly. She's not entirely confident she can do it, but what other answer can she give?
"Alright," Edmund replies. He releases her arms and gestures further into the shadowy tree trunks. "Adan will try to cover our trail, so you'll be between us." Serena nods, but she does wonder how the Wolf intends to cover their trail.
With Edmund in front of her and the Wolf behind– following slowly and sweeping his tail across their footsteps in the shallow snow– they make their way quietly into the woods. After only a few steps, the ground begins to quake beneath their feet again. And worse, it grows steadily stronger as they walk. There are several times Serena loses her balance– though it's more to do with her one clumsiness and the dark beneath the trees. Even Sir Edmund stumbles a time or two. Finally, they reach a tree that's collapsed against its neighbors, leaving a hollow where its enormous roots have been partially pulled from the ground.
Edmund stops just before it and quickly removes the pack from his back as Serena watches, still not moving from his footsteps. Adan catches up behind her and slinks past. When he brushes against her skirt, she's suddenly reminded of the cats the cook keeps around to guard the larder. She can't quite reconcile the huge canine form with the small, lithe felines back home, but something about the brief contact is comforting nonetheless.
"They're moving quickly," she hears the Wolf say, and then she follows his glance to the right. She can't see beyond the trees, but that does seem to be the general direction of the pounding footsteps.
Edmund quickly tosses the pack in the hollow beneath the roots and gestures for her to come closer while turning to Adan. They speak quietly, and when she's close enough that she might actually be able to hear them they abruptly stop.
Edmund waves toward the hollow, and Serena hesitates for only a moment, thinking of the dirt and the roots. After a day and a half in the woods, though, she can't be much cleaner than the ground anyway. What harm can more dirt do, especially if it hides them from Giants.
Soil drops down on her hood when she brushes the hanging roots, and even when she settles on the cold ground she realizes there's more soil being shaken loose by the reverberating footsteps across the valley. But at least there won't be bugs, she reassures herself. That's her hope, anyway, with the snow and the cold temperatures. She gingerly scoots as far back as she can, pulling her knees tight to her chest and keeping her hood as far over her face as it will go.
Edmund pulls his sword, still sheathed, from his belt and hastily climbs into the hollow. He perches carefully on the ground beside Serena, seeming poised to spring out again. She looks past him for the Wolf.
"He's going to get closer," Edmund says quietly. He shifts then onto one knee and props the sword against his knee. He peers into the woods while rubbing his thumb across the carved pommel. As Serena watches him, kneeling there, he looks like the new knights she's seen taking their oaths of fealty to her father. She sees his lips moving too, and wonders what words are silently passing through them before shifting her focus to the pommel, noticing the intricate carving.
It's too dark for Serena to make out the design, but she tries to focus on it instead of the pounding footsteps. It feels like the Giants must be impossibly close by now. Unbidden, memories surface of every terrible story, every whispered tragedy, every bloody massacre she's ever heard about on Corsecant's eastern border along the Giant lands. Serena clenches her eyes shut and wraps her hands into her cloak, pulling it and the blanket tight around her.
The pounding becomes more distinct as the minutes pass, and she starts to pick out the cadence of individual Giants. It's all still a bit jumbled with so many Giants– ten, Adan had said– and the pounding echoes in her head, drumming like an execution march. Serena can feel herself growing more panicked, her heart rate and her breathing, unlike the steady pounding, are becoming more erratic.
But then, suddenly, the forest is still. The pounding ceases, the reverberation in the ground halts, and all falls absolutely silent– until the shouting begins.