Edmund tenses, completely losing his train of thought in the sudden stillness of the forest. He looks up and squints past the hanging roots. Gripping his sword tightly, his thumb still resting on the carved mane of the lion head design, he scans the forest, but all he can see are the bare trunks in front of their hiding spot.
"Whaddya make o' that?" The booming Giant voice is loud enough that he winces, and the princess beside him sucks in a sharp breath. He shifts his sword to his right hand and sets his left on her shoulder before lifting a finger to his mouth in a silent warning. Giants may not have the strongest senses, but Edmund can't pinpoint how near they are and doesn't want to give them any help locating this hollow.
In response to the first Giant's question, the others start shouting over each other. The resulting cacophony makes it hard to decipher individual voices, and Edmund closes his eyes again to focus on the words. One says something about a trail and he hears the word 'human' several times. Edmund's grip on his sword tightens. They must have stopped where they'd crossed into this valley. Not quite as far as he'd hoped, then, but now he understands why they've stopped.
Edmund shifts onto the balls of his feet and his thoughts turn to Adan. From a nearer position he's probably more able to follow the conversation, but if he gets too close he could be spotted. The black fur that makes Adan nearly invisible at night also means he stands out clearly against the bright snow. The only noise Edmund hears is the voices, though. If they had hounds, they would doubtless be barking and excited by the unfamiliar scents. But if they're not hunting, what are they doing here?
"Enough!" one of the Giants shouts, and both Edmund and the princess flinch. "We're not here for some Narnian scum and his pets," the voice continues. There's loud scrabbling sounds and no small amount of grumbling, but the noise soon fades and pounding footsteps pick up their pace— sounding more distant and moving farther away this time.
"Thank you, Aslan," Edmund breathes. He slumps onto the ground and scrubs a hand through his hair. For several minutes, he and the princess sit motionless as the echoes and tremors of footsteps fade. Just when the normal sounds of the forest– small animals scurrying about, birds trilling overhead– have finally resumed, Adan appears in the entrance of the hollow, startling Edmund a bit with his sudden return.
"They've gone into the last valley," Adan confirms. Edmund glances at the princess. Her knees aren't pulled so tightly to her chest now, but she still peers out at Adan warily.
"Then we should press on," Edmund decides, pulling himself up out of the hollow. Adan moves aside as he crawls out, and Edmund reaches back for the girl's hand. As soon as she's out, she starts shaking her skirt and brushing all the dirt off her hood and shoulders. Edmund shakes off his own hood and slips his sword back into his belt before reaching for his pack. There's a fair amount of debris on it as well, and he shakes it off before slinging it over his shoulders.
"Perhaps they're unaware of the treaty," Edmund muses, rolling the bedroll up to reattach it. Even as he says it, though, he's not convinced. It was only a few years ago, and that had been one of the concessions that the Giants were most adamant about adding into the treaty– a mutual agreement to avoid trespassing in each other's land.
"Or they had some more pressing errand than hunting down stray Narnians in their land," Adan retorts. Edmund nods, agreeing that Adan's theory is probably closer to the mark, and then notices that the princess has stilled, one hand frozen in the process of swiping soil off her sleeve.
"We're not in Narnia?" she asks, her eyes growing impossibly wider. She reminds Edmund of a fawn in that moment, and he suddenly understands the term 'doe eyes'.
"No," Edmund says slowly. "I'd say we're nearer to Harfang than the Western Woods still?" He looks at Adan for confirmation.
"Perhaps closer to the North River," Adan corrects. He perches lightly on the snow, ears still tilted toward the direction the Giants went.
"Then–" she cuts herself off and her cheeks, which had already been pink from the cold, seem to lose all color. "We're in the Giants' territory," she whispers. It doesn't sound like a question, but Edmund nods again anyway. The girl stumbles backward, her back colliding with a tree within a step.
"That doesn't make sense," she says accusingly. Edmund exchanges a confused glance with Adan. He spares one last glance to his right, then, before motioning for Adan to lead on, but the girl continues to stare into the forest. Edmund crosses the few steps to her and takes her elbow, nodding toward the path. She straightens, her brow still crinkled in confusion, and allows him to lead her after Adan. The Wolf keeps several yards ahead of them, and Edmund finally considers the princess's statement as they move silently between the tree trunks.
How does she not know what country we're in? Edmund doesn't understand why her party had been so close to the Giants' border, but he'd assumed the Corsecans must have planned that route. He studies the girl stumbling along beside him for a moment, lost in her own thoughts.
"You thought we were in Narnia?" he asks quietly. The princess shakes herself slightly. She glances up at him, and promptly tumbles in a divot, but Edmund keeps her from falling with his hold on her elbow. The gloom of the forest and the light dusting of snow that's reached the ground is a bit treacherous, but Edmund has never seen someone so incapable of just walking through the woods. She does quickly regain her balance, but Edmund has learned over the course of the morning to keep his hold on her.
"We should have been there by now," she says accusingly. "Even with the detour, it was only supposed to take a week to reach the border."
"What detour?" Edmund asks. A detour would certainly explain why she hadn't arrived in Narnia on time— and was perhaps why they'd gone so far east— but had the Corsecans not mentioned it? Edmund had meant to question her more about her travels last night, but he hadn't gotten back to it. Getting home was more important anyway, or so he'd thought. But now the sinking feeling in his stomach reminds him of his misgivings about the Corsecan king's request, and about his reasons for sending his daughter to Narnia at all.
"The crossing near the Southern Forest was impassable." She swipes at a lock of hair, pushing it back under her hood. "The bridge rotted away or something," she adds.
"Or something?" How does a bridge just rot away? The Corsecan ambassadors had been in Cair Paravel only a month earlier with correspondence from their king. Surely they would have noted something like that in their journey?
"I didn't see it," she shrugs. "A villager told Burke, and he said we'd have to go downstream to the next crossing..." She trails off, her voice growing quieter. She had slowed her steps as she'd spoken, and now she stops and frowns at the ground. Edmund, still with a hand on her elbow, stops beside her. He glances ahead as he drops his hand, but the Adan has already disappeared into the gloom between the tightly packed trees. Edmund looks back at the princess, seeing the crease between her eyebrows.
"What is it?" Edmund questions. He's hopeful that the Giants will block– and perhaps even attack– anyone pursuing them, but he still wants to keep moving in case somehow they are still being followed. And losing sight of Adan isn't a pleasant prospect either.
"We never crossed the river," the princess answers softly. If she's talking about the North River – which forms the border between the Ettins and the northern Giants and which stretches across the middle of Corsecant – that means she and her guards had traveled almost due east. Straight toward the Giant's lands.