Peter held my hand and we started following the beaver with Lucy, but Susan stopped us.
"What are you doing?" she hissed. Edmund nodded.
"She's right, how do we know we can trust him?"
Peter shrugged.
"He said he knew the faun."
Susan rolled her eyes.
"He's a beaver. He shouldn't be saying anything!"
Just then, the beaver popped back.
"Is everything all right?" he asked. I nodded quickly.
"Yes, we were just talking."
"Well, that's better left for safer quarters," the beaver whispered. Lucy looked around.
"He means the trees."
I sighed. We had nothing to lose so we followed the beaver.
"Come on. We don't want to be caught out here after nightfall," he hissed. We must have walked for at least half an hour because I started shivering from the cold. Peter started to take off his jacket to give it to me, but I stopped him.
"I'm perfectly fine, Peter. Take care of yourself," I whispered. Before he could answer, the beaver spoke again.
"Blimey! Looks like the old girl has the kettle on! Nice cup o' Rosy Lee"
I looked down to see a house, made of random pieces of sticks. It looked very cozy.
"It's lovely," I commented. He shrugged modestly.
"It's merely a trifle you know. Still plenty to do. Ain't quite finished it yet. It'll look the business when it is, though,"
We walked toward the den and heard a more feminine voice.
"Beaver, is that you? I've been worried sick! If I find you've been out with Badger again, I.. Oh!"
Another beaver, a female, came into view.
"Well, those aren't badgers" she said, referring to us. I smiled awkwardly.
"Oh, I never thought I'd live to see this day!"
I glanced at Peter. How did she know us?
"Look at my fur! The female exclaimed.
"You couldn't give me ten minutes warning?"
The male, who I had decided to call Mr. Beaver, laughed.
"I'd have given you a week if I thought it would've helped."
We all laughed except for Edmund.
"Oh come inside, and we'll see if we can get you some food, and some civilized company," Mrs. Beaver said, staring forcefully at her husband who chuckled.
"Now careful, watch your step."
Still holding Peter's hand, I walked into the den.
We had settled down and were drinking some tea when Peter asked a question.
"Isn't there anything we can do to help Tumnus?"
Mr. Beaver sighed
"They'll have taken him to the Witch's house. You know what they say. There's few that go through them gates that come out again."
Mrs. Beaver walked up to the table, holding a plate of food.
"Fish 'n' chips?" She asked. I smiled at the plate. There was fish...and woodchips. Mrs. Beaver turned to Lucy, who looked like she was about to cry.
"But there is hope, dear. Lot's of hope."
Mr. Beaver spit his drink back into his cup.
"Oh yeah, there's a right bit more than hope."
He leaned closer to us.
"Aslan is on the move." he whispered. I didn't know who Aslan was, but I felt a sense of calm wash over me.
"Who's Aslan?" Edmund asked, ruining the moment. Mr. Beaver burst out laughing.
"Who's Aslan? Who's Aslan?" he snorted.
"You cheeky little blighter."
I exchanged a look with Edmund. Mrs. Beaver hit Mr. Beaver gently on the arm, glaring at him. Noticing his wife's displeased face, he stopped laughing.
"What?"
He turned toward us, seeing our confused faces.
"You don't know do you?"
"Well," Peter said.
"We haven't exactly been here very long."
"Well, he's only the king of the whole wood!" Mr. Beaver said.
"The top geezer. The real King of Narnia!" he said, like we were little kids.
"He's been away for a long while," Mrs. Beaver said kindly.
"But he's just got back! And he's waiting for you near the stone table!"
Mr. Beaver exclaimed. I looked at Susan and Peter. We didn't even know who Aslan was.
"He's waiting for us?" Lucy asked, voicing all of our thoughts.
"You're blooming joking!" Mr. Beaver yelled, turning to his wife.
"They don't even know about the prophecy!"
"Well then..." Mrs. Beaver said. Mr. Beaver sighed.
"Look, Aslan's return, Tumnus' arrest, the secret police, it's all happening because of you!"
"You're blaming us?" I asked defensively.
"No! Not blaming, thanking you!" Mrs.Beaver exclaimed.
"There's a prophecy," Mr. Beaver said.
"'When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done.'" he recited.
"That doesn't really rhyme," Susan said, smiling. I elbowed her.
"I know it don't. You're kind of missing the point!"
Mrs. Beaver put a paw on Mr. Beaver's shoulder.
"It has long been foretold that two Sons of Adam,"
She gestured toward Peter and Edmund.
"And two Daughters of Eve,"
She gestured to Lucy and Susan.
"And I'm assuming you are the warrior with a spirit of fire, my poor dear, they never did specify whether you were a daughter of Eve or not,"
She said, gesturing sadly to me. Susan put an arm around me.
"Anyway, you will defeat the White Witch and restore peace to Narnia." Mrs. Beaver finished.
"And you think we're the ones?!" Peter asked. Mr. Beaver jumped out of his seat.
"Well, you'd better be, cause Aslan's already fitted out your army."
"A freaking army?" I exclaimed. Peter and Susan both elbowed me.
"Mum sent us away so we wouldn't get caught up in a war." Susan remarked.
"I think you've made a mistake!" Peter said. Susan nodded.
"We're not heroes."
"We're from Finchley!" Peter finished.
Susan stood up. Peter copied her.
"Thank you for your hospitality, but we really have to go!"
"No, you can't just leave!" Mr. Beaver exclaimed. I looked up at Susan and Peter.
"He's right. We owe it to Mr. Tumnus. He helped Lucy." I murmured. Lucy nodded quickly. Peter glared at me.
"It's out of our hands."
I crossed my arms.
"I'm old enough to take care of myself, I'm staying regardless of what you do."
Peter sighed.
"Fine. but it's time for the other four of us to get home. Ed?"
He turned around. But Edmund wasn't there.
"Ed?!"
I peered around Peter and saw an open door.
"Please, this time let me hurt him a little bit. No, a lot!" I growled. This time Peter didn't stop my rant.
"I'm going to kill him!"
Mr. Beaver looked sadly at us.
"You may not have to."
I looked at Mr. Beaver questioningly.
"Has Edmund ever been to Narnia before?"
I glared out the door.
"Son of a bitch."