Autumn Nights - A Narnia Oneshot Challenge

Keeping Company with Ghosts

TW: War, Death, PTSD, Greif

Prompt: Crunchy

The High King sighed, staring up at the velvet sky embroidered with pins of light. He laid back, resting his hands behind his head. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

"Could stand to be a little warmer," Edmund quipped, smirking. Peter scoffed, the intended reaction. "It's not bad, though."

Peridan chuckled softly.

"What do you think, Per? Are you warm enough?" Peter asked.

The lord nodded, watching the firelight dance. "I'm alright. My cloak's heavy."

The autumn was slowly breaking over Narnia, leaves fading from green into brilliant shades of red and yellow. The rustling of the wind in the trees and the ever-increasing chant of the crickets were the only sound to shatter an otherwise silent night. Far off in the distance, fauns' hooves crunched against the underbrush as they danced long past midnight, giving themselves up to the revelry of reaping what they had sown, dancing with all of their might for the last few weeks before the land fell into the sweet, dreamless sleep of winter.

"I don't know the last time I went camping for the fun of it," Peridan said. "It seems to almost always be an activity reserved for scouting and campaigns."

"Really?" Peter sat up, looking over at the boy with the rust-colored hair. "Your father didn't take you?"

"He did. But he's been gone a while now."

Peter sent an uneasy glance at Edmund, who met his gaze with assent, silence thick between them.

"It was one of my Mother's favorite activities," Peridan added, eyes glazed with distance. "She took us more than Father."

The golden king shifted, all the words in the English language trembling at the thought of responding to the bared soul of the solemn lord. He never spoke of his family. Not willingly. Only ever to Lucy. He was a different person around her.

The pounding of the faun's drums drew nearer, heralding the merriment.

Peter cracked a grin. "I think we're about to be seized by the dance."

Before the others could respond, they were swept up in the soft padding of cloven hooves and the rhythmic thud of dwarf's boots, dancing until the revelry past them by, intent to reach their next destination.

The three exhausted boys collapsed swiftly into sleep.

~~~

Fire.

Flames licking dry wood, crawling up the walls of cottages, consuming the thatched roofs in one gulp.

Dry sod smoking beneath their feet. Dodging stinging embers, blown in the wind. Get out. Get out. Get out before the fiery beasts devour you, gorging themselves on all that once had life, greedy. Hungry. Unsatiable.

His mother's deep blue eyes were steady, holding him by the shoulders. She spoke quickly, smoothly. No time for hesitation. No time for a trembling voice. "Take the children. Run. Don't look back. Don't come back. Go as fast as you can. As far as you can."

They ran. Feet pounding against the rain-thirsty soil, air pulsating with the thick scent of smoke, clogging their lungs.

Run.

Aoife clung to his back, digging her nails into his collarbone as she bounced with each footfall. Alys held the baby, cradling his head against her shoulder, no time for careful footing.