Moonshine

Chapter 4- Vasanistírio

βασανιστήριο: vasanistírio
Greek
torment
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Trigger warning: graphic description of 'torture'
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Edmund wondered if he'd be a bad brother if he let Trumpkin sneak onto Peter and decapitate him.
Maybe not decapitation. He wasn't that annoyed at him. A hard bonk to the head, just to put him down for a little bit, and then the rest of them could sit down on a rock and catch their breath.
He couldn't understand how in the world- any world- Peter had so much energy. The fellow hadn't stopped since they'd set out, and whenever anyone had suggested they take a little break, he had simply scoffed and kept on striding ahead. Everyone looked ready to collapse, and the last time Edmund had been so fatigued, he'd had a newborn to look after.
Even Lucy was annoyed with him- though that was most likely because of their brother's punchable comment about girls' heads and maps.
Edmund couldn't fathom why Peter was hell-bent on pissing everyone off, or why he was so determined that only his way ahead was right. He hadn't been in Narnia for over a thousand years, and Trumpkin obviously knew the woods better. High King or not, he ought to be able to admit when he didn't know something.

"That's rather a long way down." He muttered to himself, as he climbed to the edge of the cliff and peered down to the ravine and the narrow stream that ran through it. If they were fauns, it would've been an easy climb down, and they would be able walk along the stream's edge- but, being humans, the only easy thing would be breaking their necks. He turned and went back to the rear of the group, just behind Trumpkin, where he had been so far. It was smarter to have their backs- if any enemy snuck up on them, they'd have to deal with him first.

Susan began drolly, remembering something from a teacher's lecture that said teacher had repeated every class, "You see, over time, water erodes the earth's soil, and carving deeper..."

"Oh, shut up." Peter snapped, looking down the same way his brother had. If Edmund had noticed a path down, he would have said it- but, clearly, he hadn't.

"Is there a way down?" Edmund asked Trumpkin, who- to his credit- didn't look smug at being proven right.

"Yeah. Falling."

Unfortunately, that wasn't a viable option, though falling to their deaths would give them more respite than walking till they died of exhaustion would.

"Well, we weren't lost." Peter said, turning and looking at the others. How was he supposed to know that the River Rush had been reduced to a ravine and a stream now? He did feel bad, slightly, at not paying heed to the dwarf's directions- but he hadn't been wrong, really, so he saw no point in apologising.

"There's a ford near Beruna." Trumpkin said, looking to the other three Monarchs. He was fairly sure the ford hadn't dried up or eroded. "How do you feel about swimming?"

Lucy looked at Susan- her sister loved swimming, almost as much as their sister-in-law had, but there was not an ounce of excitement in her expression, just resignation.
She sighed, and looked over at the other edge of the ravine. There ought to be bridges from cliffs like these...

"I'd rather that than walking." The Gentle spoke- oh, how her feet ached- and she gingerly began down the grassy cliff and back into the forest- it would be a relief, too, to submerge into cool water, and let it wash over her and calm her down-

"Aslan!" Lucy yelled suddenly, darting forward to the edge, her blue eyes wide. She could see Him- he was there, between those two trees- of course He was there, guiding them, letting them know which path to follow- how had she not seen Him before- "It's Aslan, over there!"