back, again | prince caspian

two

The skirmish earlier hadn't shaken us; if anything, it had set our spirits ablaze, leaving an indelible spark of courage in its wake. In that fire, in that reckless bravery tempered by instinct, we discovered an unexpected ally—a tiny, unstoppable mouse named Reepicheep. His little sword glinted in the patchy sunlight filtering through the canopy as he darted ahead, chest puffed, eyes sharp with determination. Each tiny step seemed to cut through the shadows, fearless and unyielding, the forest itself bowing to his resolve.

The air around us vibrated with life: leaves whispering under unseen creatures, a distant brook murmuring through the undergrowth, birds trilling from above. It was a forest alive, serene yet taut with tension, as if every leaf and branch anticipated the danger ahead. Caspian kept pace beside me, his boots crunching softly on roots and dry leaves. His gaze drifted over the forest before finding mine again, and the faint brush of his shoulder against mine sent an unexpected warmth through me.

"We really never had a chance to get to know each other," he said, voice low, thoughtful, a subtle softness that made my pulse quicken.

"True," I said, glancing at the roots snaking across the trail. "What's on your mind?"

He shifted closer, the warmth of him brushing against me, subtle and tantalizing. "It's just... rare to see a lady who knows how to wield a sword," he said, admiration evident, hesitant as if speaking too freely might shatter the moment.

"Surprising, is it?" I shot back, defiance lacing my words. "I've trained as hard as any warrior." I drew my dagger and twirled it in my hand with a flourish, the blade catching the sunlight like a shard of my own resolve.

"Impressive," he murmured, brow lifting, eyes flicking to mine with a mixture of awe and something unspoken. "How did you learn?"

I laughed softly, a warmth spreading in my chest. "Honestly? A boy younger than me taught me more about courage than any knight ever could." The memory of Edmund Pevensie made my lips curve. Caspian's gaze softened, something like admiration—or amusement—gleaming faintly in his eyes.

The trail twisted beneath thick boughs, leaves brushing our arms, roots threatening our footing. Laughter mingled with the forest sounds, camaraderie threading between us like a fragile bridge. Then, abruptly, my boot caught a root, and I wobbled precariously.

Caspian reacted instinctively, gripping my elbow with careful strength. "Easy there," he murmured, voice low, almost intimate, sending shivers that had little to do with the path. "It's a rugged trail."

"Thanks," I said, heartbeat jumping at the brief contact, forcing a laugh to mask the flurry of emotions. "I seem to have two left feet today."

Before the moment stretched too long, Reepicheep's urgent squeak cut through the tension. "Quickly, this way!" he squeaked, darting ahead with a purpose that made my chest tighten.

Caspian paused, glancing back at me. His brow furrowed faintly, a tension in his jaw that hinted at concern or perhaps the distraction of my presence. Then he nodded, voice low and warm. "Stay close," he whispered, before moving deeper into the undergrowth with Reepicheep and Trufflehunter. I lingered for a heartbeat, crouched low, the forest pressing around me like a living shield.

"Madamé, where are the other Kings and Queens of Old Narnia?" Reepicheep asked, his tiny eyes drilling into mine with earnestness and an unexpected intensity.

I lowered myself closer to his level, inhaling the mingled scents of damp earth and pine, my chest tight with worry. "I don't know, Reepicheep," I admitted. "But I promise... we'll find a way to bring everyone back together."

The mouse's tiny whiskers twitched with resolve, spirit blazing in his eyes. "And why are you dressed in that?" he asked, tilting his head, confusion etched in the earnestness of his gaze.