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ORANGE FLAMES dance in Lucy's eyes as she watches the fire. From across the pit, her gaze is attentive and filled with fascination, almost like she's waiting for it to tell her a story. Beside her, Trumpkin uses a stone to sharpen his dagger. Occasionally, he scans the surrounding trees as if Telmarines might spontaneously appear at any moment. Next to me, Edmund sits quietly with one leg bent and drawn up, arm resting on his knee. With his other hand, he pokes the burning logs using a long stick, sending a wave of sparks into the air.
"Ed!" Susan scolds, scrambling out of the way before they can land on her dress and burn holes.
Smiling sheepishly, he looks up at his sister sitting on the opposite side of the fire. "Sorry," he mumbles. Lips pressed together, the unimpressed queen returns to her spot by the fire with a sigh, smoothing her dress out around her.
I notice Lucy giggling silently at the two of them. Then she looks over at the dwarf. "How much further do you suppose it is until we reach the Narnians?" She asks.
Trumpkin lowers the stone and his blade. "Another day's trek, at least," he replies, glancing at everyone gathered around the crackling fire. "Probably two."
Lucy sighs tiredly and returns her gaze to the fire. "I think my feet might fall off before we make it there."
Even Trumpkin chuckles at that.
Queen Susan — ever the motherly Pevensie sibling I read about — urges us to settle down and get as much rest as we can. We're to break camp and move out early in the morning to make up for the time we lost dealing with the black bear today.
Peter and Trumpkin skinned the animal, much to Lucy's dismay. And when they arrived at our camp to cook the meat, I'd taken the young queen with me to search for fruit and more firewood. As it turned out, nobody was very keen on eating the strips of cooked meat Trumpkin prepared, but we had to. Even if there were enough apples and berries to go around, the fruit certainly wouldn't sustain us properly for the remainder of our journey.
Only two more days, I think to myself, laying on my back in the moss. Two days.
Staring up at the blanket of twinkling stars, my mind floods with worried thoughts: where Caspian is and if he thinks I'm dead; if he, Trufflehunter and Nikabrik made it to Dancing Lawn safely; if the Narnians have all gathered and agreed to help, or if they'll kill him; if the Telmarines will find them before we do, and this insurgence will end before it's even begun.
Two more days, Caspian. I close my eyes. Stay alive.
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The crashing of undergrowth startles me awake.
Adrenaline surging, I unsheathe Edmund's sword and leap to my feet. The dying light of the fire reveals Queen Susan armed with her bow as she emerges from the trees, sticks gathered in her arms. She stares at me in shock, frightened by my sudden appearance.
