𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡'𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐜𝐞 ✓

8| 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐬

The next morning, there was ruffles everywhere. Was everyone awake this early? I opened my groggy eyes. Ruffles weren't the only things. There were noises too. 

"Oh, just barge in!" a very familiar voice snapped. 

"Of course not, they'll be mad!" another voice said. 

"Well, this is important news, that can't be waited!" 

"Okay, fine!" 

The heard the tent's opening flip open. Without taking a second to realize who it was or if it was anybody, I grabbed my dagger, turning it into a sword, and pointed it at the stranger. I turned a little to see that Daphne too was doing the same. I turned back to the tent's door. 

"Ugh, boys," Daphne said shaking her head to Peter and Edmund Pevensie, "ever heard of knocking?" She went back to sleeping. 

"No get up!" Edmund exclaimed. 

Daphne groaned but got up. I could distinctly hear her mutter, "Boys."  

"What happened?" I asked setting my sword down, which immediately turned back into a dagger. 

"Aslan," said Peter in a grave voice, "is dead." 

Daphne gasped. My heart dropped. 

"H-how do you know?" Daphne stammered, looking from Peter to Edmund as if they were both crazy. 

"Susan and Lucy sent us a le— I mean, Susan and Lucy sent us a dryad," Peter corrected. 

"He's dead now?" I asked. 

"Unfortunately, yes," Edmund replied. 

Daphne looked close to tears. 

"We're going to war?" she asked, tears strolling down her face. 

"Hey hey," Edmund said awkwardly as he gave her his handkerchief. Daphne blew her nose on it. 

"Then why aren't we preparing?" I asked Peter. 

"We — what?" 

"For war," I replied. 

"Oh right," Peter replied. "Oreius, Edmund, and I are getting the plans ready." 

"You f-forgot E-Eleanor," stammered Daphne, still crying. "S-she's awesome at things like this." 

"D-do you want to come?" Peter asked. 

"I'd rather do that then cry over Aslan," I said ruffly. 

Daphne shot me an angry look. 

"Not like that," I said. "What's done is done. Would you clean the horses?" I added just to be on the safe side. 

"What a nice question," snapped Daphne, getting up. "I'll clean your handkerchief out for you," she said to Edmund. 

"Er — thank you," Edmund replied. 

Peter, Edmund, and I met Oreius near Aslan's tent. Or what used to be Aslan's tent. 

"If Orpheus knew," Oreius said, bowing down, "he'd be proud of you, Eleanor." 

I smiled sadly. "I guess so," I said, before changing the subject quickly. "Okay, so how are we going to do this?" 

"We need the griffins," Oreius said. "That's a must do." 

"What will we do with them?" Edmund asked. "We could tell the griffins to throw rocks on them?" 

I could tell that Edmund was joking but this gave me an idea. 

"You are a genius, Edmund," I said, realization hitting me, smiling. "My father used to always say —" 

"Eleanor," Said Peter calmly. "Let's not get carried away." 

"I'm not getting carried away," I replied indignantly. 

"You kind of are —" 

"No, I'm not!" 

"She's not," Oreius replied, eyeing Peter. "Your majesty," I heard him whisper to Peter, "you don't want to anger an Evans, sir." 

"I can hear you, Oreius!" I snapped. "Now get on with the plan!"