Worthy Of Love | Edmund Pevensie

eight

ACT ONE; SCENE EIGHT —
THE WHITE WITCH

EDMUND PEVENSIE BEGAN HIKING through the snow once again, only this time the light that once guided him through the land was now replaced with pure darkness, tempestuous clouds brewing a storm up above. His breath unintentionally hitched as his arms found their way around his stomach in hopes for a bit of warmth. Unfortunately for Edmund, he didn't have the luxury of having that huge cloak he once had wrapped around him, that was left at the Beavers residence. It would be no surprise if the boy died of hyperthermia as the Narnia nights grew rather bleak considering winter has never took its leave in over a hundred years.

He took a sudden stop becoming aware of his surroundings, his head turning from the front of him to now make its way behind for reassurance that nobody was out to get him or following him. If there was one thing about Edmund, it was that he was a determined boy, he was determined to make his way to the witches castle, or in his words, the Narnian Queen. Just the thought of becoming the king and making his siblings his forever servants, especially Peter, brought a sparkle of joy into his eyes giving him motivation to carry on on this little conquest.

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The remaining Pevensie's, Dolores and the Beavers had made it their duty to guide their way through the snow in order to catch up with the boy before it was too late, there was no way they were planning to leave him to get himself hurt, or even worse killed. Whether that is what he wanted, they don't know, but if there was one thing they did know it was that they weren't giving up on locating him, even if their life depended on it, and in this case, it did.

"Hurry!" Dolores shouted, turning her gaze towards the five who tried to run behind her, each one struggling to go any further as you would find running on snow is not an easy task at all.

Mr Beaver reached the top of the cliff first, his paws giving him an easier access in mounting through the snow until Dolores soon caught up with him, both taking a sudden stop from their flee with the sight of what they presumed to be the Witches den.

Peter and Lucy were last to arrive as Peter gave the Pevensie the pleasure of climbing on his back as support, seen as though the younger had such short legs wearing her out far too quickly. All six of them were speechless, I mean what were they supposed to say when one finds themselves in this situation?

"Oh my, what is this place." Dolores asked staring down at the two astonished creatures.

Mrs Beaver looked up at the girl, sorrow painted through her eyes, "The White Witches castle."

In the distance there was a slight silhouette of a boy who appeared to be falling into the woman's trap, heading straight for the doors of the Castle.

It was Edmund.

"Edmund!" Lucy screamed as loud as she could get her voice to vocalise until her words were cut short by Dolores' hand covering her mouth. "Be quiet, Lucy!" A tear slipped from the corner of her eye upon seeing the boy weave his way into nothing but danger — she couldn't help but assume the worst, she'd never ever want anything cruel to happen to Edmund, even if he had plenty of wrongdoings, she loved him. Platonically of course.

Mr Beaver turned to face the youngest Pevensie before gesturing his arms down low in order to warn the girl to keep her pitch at zero, his whisper almost echoing through the land, "Shh, they'll hear you."