Wunderkind ❄ A Chronicles of Narnia Tale {Wattys 2018}

To Aslan's Camp

The other children all watched Ruth for a long moment, not quite seeming to understand. But then a voice said behind them, "Now you've got it, haven't you?" and they all turned to see Mr Beaver watching them with a wide grin.

"What do you mean by that?" said Peter, for he still didn't trust Ruth and wasn't entirely willing to believe she was right just yet, although of course he couldn't produce a better explanation for the sudden shift in seasons than she had.

"Of course the Witch's magic would begin to break once the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve came along," said Mr Beaver excitedly.

"But that's not nearly so important as the fact that with the snow all gone, she won't be able to use her sledge," said Susan, and their moods brightened rather quickly after that.

They stopped hurrying at the pace they had been, and were able to take longer rests more frequently. Ruth was still dreadfully tired, but less so now as the air became sweet with tulips and bluebells and whatever other manner of flowers were in Narnia.

"Is that a kingfisher?" asked Lucy.

"I thought I saw a lark!" replied Susan.

Then Peter found a peach tree somewhere along the path and they made a great game of tossing it back and forth to one another, until Ruth accidentally dropped it with a splatter on the ground. And by then they were so tired that they couldn't think of any more games to play, or even anything particularly interesting to say, and so they all dissolved into silence. But it wasn't the nasty, dead kind of silence like it had been the night before or even that morning; the woods were alive with birdsong and the bubbling of a stream, and the soft swish-swish-swish of tree branches swaying in the breeze.

Ruth couldn't help wondering if her father had travelled through such wonderful scenery as this, but quickly dismissed the idea. She hadn't been certain where he was stationed because all his letters were censored, but she was pretty sure he had been sent to Scandinavia, and she was also pretty sure there was nowhere there quite so lovely as this. But she knew for certain that he would have loved to join her on this adventure, as he had spent a great deal of time in the country as a child and spoke fondly of those years, if only for the fresh air.

"Not long now, Your Majesties," called Mr Beaver, and before long he was leading the children up a slight incline.

The ground here was springy with moss, which felt delightful under their aching feet, but soon the hill became steeper and they found they were puffing and panting and almost tripping over themselves with sheer exhaustion. When at long last Ruth didn't think she could take another step, much less make it to the top of the hill, suddenly they were there.

Before them stretched a large, lush field dotted with flowers and crimson tents, and all manner of creatures milled about: centaurs and satyrs and dwarves and horses and others she couldn't even name. In the distance was a great stone slab, cut all over with strange symbols she couldn't possibly hope to decipher, but when she looked at them she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know what they meant. A delicious smell wafted through the air, making the children all hungry not for Mrs Beaver's sandwiches (though they were delicious) but for great feasts of fruit and wine and roasted meat and bread, like the kings and queens in storybooks, and like they could not have back in England.

And far, far away to the East was a great, twinkling expanse, like a sheet of emeralds. "The sea!" whispered Peter, and Ruth remembered with a pang the trip to the seaside she had taken with her parents long ago, and the long hours of sunbathing and racing her father along the promenade, and the stick of Brighton rock that lasted her almost three weeks simply because she didn't want to ruin the letters.