"I meant," Edmund says, holding her wrists still, "that I don't know who it is." A bit of frustration seeps into his voice, and he takes a deep breath to regain control. He'd thought he was clear before, but her reaction said otherwise and he'd realized she completely misunderstood what he'd said. Her movements had broadcast it clear as day, but still he'd watched her in confusion for a minute before stopping her from undoing all he'd done for her feet.
Serena pulls her arms back slightly now, and Edmund releases her wrists. He watches as she looks over her shoulder, rubbing at her left wrist slightly as she stares into the dim woods. Edmund looks up at the sky, taking in the menacing storm clouds and swiftly falling snow. It really is getting darker much sooner than he'd like.
"How could you not know?" the princess asks hesitantly, and Edmund drops his gaze. Her agitation seems to have abated, replaced by tightly pressed lips and the slight crease of her forehead. Edmund finds a scowl forming on his own face and drops his chin, biting back a sharp reply. Choosing instead to carefully consider his words this time, he focuses on packing up the med kit Lucy insists on him bringing whenever he's out of her sight. When everything is packed away, though, Edmund sees that she's still looking at him expectantly.
"We don't know who they are," he clarifies, "but they are human." He glances over her shoulder, recalling everything Adan has been able to discern about these other humans— that their scent was stronger than Phillip's, that they were still a ways off when he, Edmund, and Serena had entered the valley, and that they were definitely getting closer. It's not a lot to go on, but Edmund and Adan had still decided it would be best to just abandon the path and aim as close to due west as possible to avoid detection.
"Wouldn't they be from your country then?" the princess questions. Edmund frowns at her, then, and she drops her eyes. Edmund looks down too when he notices her toying with the still untied cords around her foot.
"They're not from Narnia," Edmund states. He shifts closer and gently pulls the cord from her hands and loosens the laces she yanked too tight. More out of habit than intentionally, he and Adan have avoided saying much about their situation around her. Even if she wasn't a foreign princess, she is still a non-combatant who is obviously not trained in survival skills. There just hasn't been any real reason to ask for her input, and now that it comes to it Edmund isn't quite sure how much he wants to tell her.
He and Adan had considered that this other group might be the rescue party sent back from Phillip, but there's little chance that Phillip could have reached Peter yet nor that Peter's rescue would have gotten so close to them already. Even if it were Narnians, there wouldn't be so many humans among them that it would be the only scent Adan could discern, and certainly Peter would send a flying Beast to retrieve them quickly rather than a large group on foot.
With the cords completely removed, Edmund checks that the bandages haven't bunched up under the roughly pulled-on sock. He readjusts the wool and the fur-lined leather once he's convinced the bandages are fine, and then carefully starts re-lacing the cords. The princess stares into the forest, the crease between her eyebrows still visible while her hands twist the edges of the cloak. Edmund had written her off as a useless royal from the start, but she does seem to be closely considering their situation.
"Do other humans usually pass through the Giant territories?" she finally asks, turning her head back toward him. Edmund ties the laces at the front of her ankle and gestures for her other foot before answering. He checks that the other cords are not laced too tightly.
"Not that I know of." The patrols along the border of Ettinsmoor have never reported any human activity, but that doesn't necessarily mean there couldn't be things going on further in that could escape their detection. Edmund scowls at the princess's foot, his hands pausing in their work. Where else could humans be going except to Narnia or Corsecant?
"What is it," the princess asks. Edmund sees her curls her toes inside her shoes and shakes his head slightly as he pushes his thoughts aside, focusing instead on her feet. The laces on this foot are fine, so he picks up the length of cording he'd added for traction. The raw red lines that wrapped around the sides of her feet could only have been caused by those added cords. He fingers the cords, debating on just leaving them off since the fresh snow doesn't have the same layer of slippery ice that had been on the ground this morning outside the cave.
"Let's test those," Edmund says suddenly, waving at the princess's feet. He stands up quickly and then holds out a hand to pull her up. She rocks back and forth once she's standing and then takes a few cautious steps.
"They're fine, I think," she says, but it sounds more like a question. She seems stable enough, though, and Edmund nods. He wraps the cord around his hand, satisfied that they probably won't be needed again. And hopefully we won't be needing Lucy's healing ointment again either.
Edmund had noticed the princess shifting on her feet throughout the day, but he hadn't thought there might be something wrong until— when she'd been sitting right next to him and flexing her feet— he'd seen her wince. He could admit a grudging respect for the fact that she'd continued on without complaint, but he knew very well that not saying anything about injuries was a stupid thing to do on a long journey and he does wish she had said something sooner.
"If they start bothering you again, you need to tell me," Edmund instructs. The princess looks away but Edmund knows she heard him. He kneels down to stuff the wrapped up cords into the pack, thinking the matter is finished, when he hears her quiet answer.
"I won't slow us down," she says. He frowns at his pack. When he looks up at her, she's still staring out at the trees to the east— the direction they've been traveling away from— with the cloak pulled tightly around her. Edmund closes the pack securely and stands, taking the princess's elbows and turning her to face him.
"You'll slow us down more by hiding an injury," he says sternly. She looks somewhere toward his shoulder and nods, not meeting his eyes. Edmund is close enough to see the tight set of her jaw, but he doesn't know what he's said wrong this time. The subtlety of politics suddenly seems much more navigable than the intricacies of dealing with women, and Edmund decides he has bigger things to worry about than hurt feelings at the moment. He lets go of her arms, making a mental note to check on her feet later regardless of whether she says they're fine, and drops the subject altogether.
"I don't think we'll be going much further today, anyway," Edmund observes aloud. He squints up at the sky again, and then turns slowly, taking in the dim woods around them. They'll have maybe another hour or two at best before they'll need to figure out a way to bivouac for the night. But first, where's Adan?
Edmund peers down at Adan's tracks and then scans the woods in that direction for any sign of him returning. It's already been much longer than he'd expected the Wolf to be gone. Edmund turns toward the princess when he hears the crunch of snow, but she's only sat back down to resume the task he'd given her of filling the water skin.
After another glance around the area, Edmund lowers himself as well. The underbrush is fairly dense here, but it's still only about waist high under the thick canopy. If they're going to be waiting for Adan much longer, it would definitely be best to stay out of sight.