It's several hours later that Edmund hears Adan quietly call his name. He 'hms' back groggily, having fallen uneasily into the space between awake and asleep. Edmund forces himself to sit up, though, carefully turning to avoid pulling the cloak and blanket off the princess. It had taken her nearly as long as him to finally fall asleep and he doesn't want to risk waking her up now— if only for a chance to talk things over with Adan without leaving the comparative warmth of the shelter.
Once Edmund disentangles himself, he carefully shifts branches aside to make an opening. The Wolf slips through silently, the snow in his fur transferring to Edmund's sleeve as he does so. Edmund can feel the cold air slip into the shelter, too, and he quickly rearranges the branches. Once finished, he turns to sit with his back to the entrance.
"They stopped for the night on the other side of the road." Adan's whisper floats through the dark, and the princess's slow, even breathing continues unchanged.
"Too close," Edmund breathes. He swipes at his bleary eyes, wishing this was a puzzle he could solve on a full night's rest. He tries to calculate how far Phillip may have made it, where Peter might be camped, how long it would take for different flighted Beasts to get to them. It's all speculation and estimates, though, and he sighs, giving it up. "We're on our own until tomorrow, at least," he decides. Adan's tail flicks past Edmund's foot, and Edmund— familiar with the Wolf's idiosyncrasies— knows it to be a sign of agitation.
"What else?" Edmund asks quietly. He can hear Adan's claws scratch lightly against the bare dirt before he finally answers.
"They're no woodsmen, but there's enough of them to-" Adan cuts off abruptly as the princess shifts, but the steady breathing that resumes after another moment attests to her continued sleep.
"I don't think they're actually tracking us," Adan says even more softly, forcing Edmund to lean forward. "They were spread out most of the day, just hoping to stumble upon us, I believe." Edmund nods, grateful for at least one small bit of good news.
"Were you able to hear anything?" Adan shifts again, his fur brushing against Edmund's knee. He feels cold pinpricks of snow on the back of his neck and realizes that Adan's pacing in the tight space is shaking it loose.
"No." Adan's voice sounds further away, and Edmund holds out a hand, hoping to stop him on his next pass in the dark.
"Adan." His hand slides up the Wolf's spine, settling on Adan's shoulder as he comes to a stop in front of him.
"They smell like the sea," comes Adan's raspy whisper. "But beyond that," Edmund feels it when Adan shakes his head slowly, "I can't tell." Adan is coiled tight, and Edmund suspects at any moment he might start pacing again. Edmund tightens his grip slightly on Adan, trying to resist the inclination to run his fingers through Adan's fur. Treating a talking Beast— and especially a Wolf— like a pet is very much frowned upon. Edmund lets his hand slide back into his own lap instead, and he can hear the light pad of Adan's feet as he starts moving again.
Edmund wants to say they'll figure it out— and that they'll be safely back in Narnia soon— but he's starting to feel as though they are trapped in an ever-tightening net. If they had more information maybe they could slip free. He can't fault Adan, though, knowing the Wolf probably ventured much closer tonight than he should have. Not all humans may suspect him of being a Talking animal, but he does look like a dangerous predator.
No, Edmund thinks, the easier source is right here. Edmund turns his head toward the princess's soft breaths. He truly hasn't asked her for more than the bare minimum of details about how she ended up in the Giant territories. He'd suspected from the start that she might know more than she'd let on— or at least more than her father had revealed in his letter to Peter. But he hadn't wanted to press the matter while she was clearly upset, and then he'd been more focused on pressing forward all day than striking up a conversation.
Tonight, however, when he had asked about what he'd considered a rather benign subject, her careful answers had caught his attention. He'd thought one of the ambassadors from Corsecant had mentioned that Mael was already the crown prince, but perhaps he had only assumed as much. Whatever the case, Edmund had quickly picked up on her unease and recognized that she was dodging with her responses. Peter may be the great speech-giver, but Edmund is the listener. What is she trying to hide?
"Adan-"
"Aslan knows what he's doing." Edmund snaps his focus back toward Adan, surprised at the intensity of his words.
"Right," Edmund shoots back. It comes out far more petulantly than he means for it to, and he winces before rolling his neck forward and massaging the knotted muscles of his spine. He takes in a long, slow breath and lets it out just as slowly. "You are right," he tries again, sighing the words into the dark. Adan steps closer and touches his muzzle to Edmund's knee.
"You have doubts?" Adan pitches his voice low. Edmund doesn't answer right away, taking a moment to monitor the princess's breathing, but he knows the answer instinctually. How could he doubt Aslan?
Edmund runs his hand through his hair. He's frustrated at the situation they've been put in, worried about his friends, and puzzling over how it will all impact his country. But he's never doubted Aslan. He's just been so focused on what he can do in this matter that he's lost perspective.
"No," Edmund affirms. He reaches out toward Adan's shoulder, and the Wolf leans into him.
"Somehow, this is part of his plan," Adan says quietly. Edmund feels the rumble of his words through his hand. After another moment, Adan backs away, and Edmund carefully lays back down with the princess between him and Adan. This time, it feels much easier to relax— not only with Adan back but with the reminder that Aslan's course is set, even when he can't see it. He drifts to sleep again with more peace than he's had in a while, thinking perhaps this will all turn out well in the end.