Roses | Peter Pevensie

Chapter Thirteen

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What Susan had meant was mounting horses and running around the range. If it was all about tracking, then it shouldn't matter whether it was the target or the shooter that was moving. Right?

Once again, Rosemary was clearly more experienced with riding horses than the Pevensie girls so she spent the first hour simply helping them learn how to ride without their weapons.

When they'd finally called it quits for the day hours later, the sun was halfway through its descent. After returning the horses, the girls headed back to the outside of the camp where the shooting range was. There, Edmund and Peter were galloping through the large boulders and tall grass.

"Come on, Ed! Swordpoint up - like Oreius showed us."

They disappeared behind rocks and hills before reappearing somewhere else. The girls climbed on top of a large rock where they would be out of the way and cheered the two boys on.

"On garde!"

"Now block!"

Enchanted by the sight, the girls leaned forward with big smiles and watched the two boys spar, their swords clanging.

"Peter, Edmund!" Beaver appeared from the direction of the camp, standing up on his back paws. "The Witch has demanded a meeting with Aslan."

"What?!" Rosemary gasped, jumping down off of the boulder. "Why?"

"I don't know, but she's on her way here."

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By the time the Witch's minions appeared at the edge of the camp, everyone had already assembled at the main pathway and watched silently and angrily as she was carried to Aslan's tent on a portable throne by four ogres.

A dwarf with a knotted beard and heavy fur coat walked ahead. "Jadis, the Queen of Narnia. Empress of the Lone Islands!"

"You can't be queen and empress but whatever," Rosemary uttered from between Peter and Edmund who snickered.

"Don't tell her that. She'll have your head."

Rosemary swallowed and looked back at the Witch, having never seen her before. She was very pale with long bleach blonde hair styled in dreadlocks that had been pulled up into a bun. She seemed extremely skinny, her cheekbones and elbows on the verge of breaking through her skin. A small crown of ice rested on her head. Her dress was extravagant, long, and thick. Rosemary was sure she must have been hot, even though it had short sleeves. Her wardrobe was clearly made for the cold.

People in the crowd heckled the Witch and Rosemary wanted nothing more than to join in with them. But unlike them, she was still scared of the Witch.

From the end of the aisle, Aslan growled lowly. Even he couldn't hold back his hatred for the Witch. As the Witch stood, everyone quieted down and Rosemary inched further back behind Peter. Noticing this, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly.

Hidden behind Peter, the Witch didn't have a good view of Rosemary but she could see the Witch in full. She could tell the Witch wasn't comfortable - perhaps not scared but definitely not fully in control. She wasn't in familiar territory and she was greatly outnumbered. If anything went wrong, the Witch knew she would lose within minutes. Nonetheless, the Witch made sure to keep her chin up.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan."

"His offense was not against you."

"Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?"