Fearless • P. Pevensie

Washed Away

We stand at yet another cliff, looking down at the rushing river below us. Yes, rushing. The ice is breaking off, making way for the river to begin to melt.

There's a thin pass of ice. If we hurry, we could still cross it. I look up at Peter, giving him a slight nod as he looks for what to do.

"We need to cross, now!" He tells us.

"Don't beavers make dams?" Lucy asks, looking over that the couple beside her.

"I'm not that fast, dear."

"Come on!" Peter calls to us, taking Lucy by the hand and beginning to get down to the riverbank.

"Wait! Will you think about this for a minute?" Susan asks her older brother. They stop, as I follow the Beavers down the rock face.

"We don't have a minute." Peter argues her.

"I'm just trying to be realistic."

"No, you're trying to be smart. As usual." Peter tells her, as my hands slip on the melting ice of the rock. I fall, though the drop is less than five feet.

I land on my back, the Beavers rushing over to me.

"I'm fine!" I assure them, before they can waste time in trying to check on me. I stand to my feet, returning to the wall and reaching up. "It's slippery, hand me down Lucy and the I'll help Susan-"

A howl is heard across the wood.

Peter helps her down to the pathway, my hands coming around her waist as I take her young girl into my arms. I set her down carefully, holding onto her hand for a moment as Susan gets ready to decline.

"I can do it myself!" She tries as my hands come up to help her.

"Not now, Susan!" I yell at her. She doesn't argue any more as I help her, sending her along with Lucy as I wait for Peter.

"Careful!" I call up to him. He doesn't respond, carefully placing his feet and hands as he's trying to rush.

My hand comes up to his back, giving him some support as he manages to crawl down the rock face without falling. He lands, hand coming to my back to usher me forwards along the narrow path. It's better than the climb, sure, but we could still easily fall.

We keep close to the rocks, not wanting to fall off the edge again. While it wouldn't kill us, it'd surely slow us down. And with the wolves on our tail, we can't afford another slip-up.

We get to the bottom, Peter running ahead and taking hold of Lucy's hand once more. The ice on the river groans, creaking with the threat of breaking.

Peter steps forward, the ice shifting under his weight. He steps back in a panic, nearly knocking me down as he tries to get away from the ice.

"Wait. Maybe I should go first." Mr. Beaver offers.

"M-maybe you should." Peter agrees, nervousness in his tone. Mr. Beaver taps along the ice, making sure it's sound enough for four humans to cross.

The ice breaks, just a bit, as he walks on it.

"You've been sneaking second helpings, haven't you?" Mrs. Beaver accuses, pointing out at him.

"Well, you never know which meal's gonna be you last." He defends himself. "Especially with your cooking." He mumbles.

Mrs. Beaver is the next to step onto the ice, carefully making her way across as she follows after her husband.

"I'll go." I offer first. Before Peter can argue, which no doubt he would, I step out on to the ice. It shifts below my weight, but it doesn't crack. I steady myself, carefully taking a few steps forewords as I hold my arms out for balance.