The Forgotten (Peter Pevensie x OC)

Chapter 8

Evelyn's feet crunched through the soil. Yes, soil. Not snow. Not ice. Soil. The winter was lifting, that was why the river melted, and the sun was shining. They walked through the forest, warm sunlight bouncing of their skin. The Pevensies and Beavers loved it. The winter was ending, after 100 years, and they were getting kind of tired of the snow.

Evelyn hated it, though. The sun made her feel sticky, and it was far too warm. In all honesty, it wasn't so different from the manor, she had just never realized that she didn't like the weather before. Now that she had been stuck in a 'proper' winter, as she called it, the sun and warmth was like torture.

The beavers led the way, Lucy and Susan not far behind, dragging Evelyn along with them. Arzis and Lobri bounded alongside the beavers, and Evelyn could clearly see the worried looks on their faces as they tried to keep as far away from the white wolves as possible. She laughed, a musical, silvery sound that flowed like silk, and everyone turned to her.

"What is it?" Lucy asked.
"Oh, nothing." Evelyn said, switching her gaze to the young brunette. "It's nothing."
"Are you sure?" The girl asked.
"One hundred percent." Evelyn smiled.
"Okay." Lucy skipped ahead to catch up with the beavers and Susan, who had begun to walk ahead as Evelyn took one of her throwing daggers from her belt, tossing it between her hands like a deadly game of hot potato.

They walked a little further before stopping to rest by a stream, Arzis and Lobri leaping in and splashing everyone. While they all rested, Evelyn walked a little bit away, wanting to let off some steam. She drew out more of her daggers throwing them quickly, with very little time in between each throw, aiming towards some of the trees that did not survive her mother's winter, their leaves not returning and their dead branches lying brown at their feet.

She approached one of the trees, bringing her last dagger up to carve something into it. Peter watched as she dug the blade in, making tiny cuts and marks. It was impossible to tell what it was. Slowly, he stood up and made his way over.

"Hey." She said, before he'd gotten within five meters of her.
"Hey." He came closer, but she blocked his view of what she was carving.
"I realised that I never got to thank you." She turned to him.
"What do you mean?"
"You saved Lucy, and I didn't even notice she was gone. If you hadn't...I don't know what would have happened. She could've drowned, or frozen, it-" Evelyn cut him off.
"We can never know what might of happened, and we can never change the past. I understand that you want to protect your family, and that the prophecy must put a lot of pressure on you. You want to be perfect, never make mistakes, keep everyone safe." Peter was shocked at how accurate she was. Had he been that obvious?

She sighed, placing her tanned hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, I know. But you are human. Just like the rest of us. Humans make mistakes."
"Yeah, but I'm supposed to be the hero, you know. Save Narnia and all that."
"Heroes make mistakes too. That's how they become heroes in the first place. They make mistakes, and they learn. The hero you want to be, you can only ever be in a dream. And it does not do to dwell on dreams, and forget to live." (If you know where that's from, you are my new best friend and I love you) She looked at him as she said that last sentence, her chocolate colored eyes full of sadness. When she did this, he had a clear view of the carving behind her. Her other hand shielded part of it, and the dagger was still stuck into the tree, but he could very clearly see most of it. The second he laid eyes on it, he wished he hadn't.

It was a wolfs head, snarling, split down the middle with a crystal wand. Above, he could see three words written in some strange symbols. He didn't know what they said, but the writing was similar to the writing on the top of the arrest notice for Mr. Tumnus. It was the language of the white witch.

Evelyn frowned at the expression on Peters face. He looked afraid, and angry. She followed his gaze to her carving, quickly covering it up. She knew how suspicious it looked, but it was the only death ritual she knew. Hadre had taught it to her once, when she accidentally killed a spider in one of their training sessions. She had felt so bad killing an innocent bug that she wouldn't go back to training. Eventually he got fed up at her pouty face and taught her the ritual to honor its life. It was only now that she realised how shady it looked using a white witch death ritual. But surely they didn't know what it meant. They had barely been a few days in Narnia, there was no way they knew the Witches language. Still, she had to be more careful. She couldn't risk them finding out how much she was risking and why. They would never trust her again.

"What?" She asked Peter. "I was part of the witches army. Of course I know the language."
"Right." He nodded. "Of course." But he couldn't help being a tiny bit suspicious. He tried to reassure himself, for her excuse was valid, but he never managed to totally push away his suspicions. What did she write? And why did she cover it up?

"You guys coming?" Susan stood with the beavers and Lucy, Arzis and Lobri Already walking ahead as if to say 'we don't need you silly little humans. We can find our way there ourselves.".
"Coming!" Evelyn walked over towards them, plucking her daggers from the trees as she went, and Peter glanced one last time at the carving. His heart stopped. Her hand had covered the detail before, but he could see it clearly now. Underneath the wolf, was a single word. One that he knew. The fox, Hunta, had taught him that one word when he showed him a letter sent by the wolves. Death.

"Peter, are you okay?" Lucy grabbed his fingers.
"Yeah, Lu." He swallowed as he glanced ahead at the brown haired girl laughing with Susan ahead of them. "I'm fine."

But in his mind, only one word played, over and over.

Death.

Death.

Death.