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GREY, WEATHERED eyes. Grey.
"Winter, ice...betrayal...a ghost."
Please. Don't leave...don't leave.
Cold wind. So cold.
"No! Stop!"
The sound of Lucy's distant, troubled cry jolts me awake. Adrenaline surging, I sit up and scan the area for her. Edmund's eyes shoot open and he bolts upright, taking in our camp and the two alarmingly vacant spots around the firepit. Trumpkin and Susan are up as well, and the four of us come to the same realization at once: Peter and Lucy are gone.
Ed and I exchange worried looks before leaping to our feet and hastily throwing our weapons on. Trumpkin quickly follows suit and Susan reaches for her bow and quiver.
"I suppose they're not out looking for more firewood," she mutters, tugging on the leather straps.
Trumpkin looks grim. "Afraid not, your majesty."
"Figures." The queen throws her bag over her shoulder while I finish buckling my sword belt on faster than I ever have, trying not to let my panicked thoughts overwhelm me.
All of his things gathered, the red dwarf looks up at me. "You heard her?" He asks, well aware of my hearing capabilities.
I nod, knowing exactly which way Lucy's voice came from. "This way." And before I'm sure everyone is even ready to go, I take off into the trees. My heart is racing in my chest, anxious to find my queen and praying Peter is there to keep her from harm's way. If he's with her, she'll be alright. He can handle a sword.
I do my best not to focus on all the terrible scenarios rushing through my mind, and when I realize how fast I'm running, I instantly slow down. Thankfully, I can still hear everyone crashing through the undergrowth behind me, so I know I haven't lost any of them. Susan — who's hot on my heels — mutters something about Peter being a 'daft twit' as we sprint through a grove of birch trees, and I find myself smiling briefly in the midst of my distress.
My ears pick up noise and low voices ahead, and I check my pace, considering the possibility of an ambush or heavily armed group of Telmarines waiting for us to round that large boulder in our path. I draw my sword and slow down further, my mind working at different tactics and possibilities. Susan, however, pulls her bow from her quiver and charges right past me, disappearing behind the wall of grey stone and shouting her brother's name.
By the mane. Throwing any semblance of strategy to the wind, I hurriedly dart after her with Edmund and Trumpkin on my tail. I stumble to an immediate stop next to Susan, too shocked by the sight before me to be relieved the missing siblings are here in one piece. Dozens of Narnians armed with weapons and donned in armour fill the woods before us, looking poised for battle. Some of I've never seen before, but others look familiar — Glenstorm, Feodrius, Trufflehunter, Nikabrik, Fleetfoot, Asterius, Tyrus, Greyheart, Bultitude, Ezrik and Verdan, and even Nyssa. And their attention is entirely fixated on the two men between our groups: High King Peter and Prince Caspian, who've just finished what must have been a duel and are turned around to stare at us.
