Clara Bronson hadn't thought that a lion would ever be capable of speaking English, nor did she expect to find a whole world behind her grandfather's beloved wardrobe with four siblings from Finchley.
For many years Clara had lived a life of col...
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THE POWER OF US MORTALS.
The cool, spring night came peacefully upon Aslan's camp, their victory from much earlier in the day traveling into the sunless hours.
It was such a small win in the grand scheme of things, but it was great enough to boost all Narnians' morale. They had certainly put the white witch in her place and she had fled like the coward they thought she was.
The creatures lit large bonfires that touched the sun just as it set below the hills in celebration.
They celebrated with mugs of wine and mead and bowls of soup, conversing avidly with all kinds of hand motions about how they still remember the look on that blasted Witch's face.
Susan and Lucy had retired to their beds early, claiming that they were beyond exhausted and wishing to sleep as they hugged their siblings and Clara goodnight.
They left the others behind to sit against a log by the fire.
"We've come a long way, haven't we?" Peter said after they had been left alone. Clara and Edmund looked between each other and smirked. That was a very mild way to put it. They had been through hell.
"Yeah, you're telling me." Edmund replied, taking a large spoonful of his soup and shoving it into his mouth.
"It feels like it's been years since the day we were home and hiding from Mrs. Macready." Clara lowered her hand into the grass and plucked at the blades, starting to tie them into knots. "I'm just glad Edmund is with us again."
Peter and Edmund nodded their heads, but Clara noticed the small dip in the younger boy's brow.
He was still ashamed about his betrayal and she realized that nobody had bothered to help him through his feelings. They just wanted it to be over and done with.
Honestly, Peter felt ashamed to say that he didn't feel the slightest bit homesick. He felt like he already was home.
"If we win the war, do you think we'll really go back?" Clara's question made the two boys ponder in silence, a tension building between them. "Or will we stay?"
Truthfully they couldn't think of a proper answer to give her. Will they?
"I think we should win the war first." Peter said with a small sigh, the weight upon his shoulders still pressing down. "What we do need to talk about is what you did to the White Witch."
