𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐘 || A Narnian Autumn Writing Challenge (Oneshot Book)

15. Pumpkin Patch

archenland // year 1027
prompt: "pumpkin patch"
word count: 1,460

xXx

"Look, Mama!" cried Ram, pulling free of his mother's grasp to charge ahead through the crunchy bed of fallen leaves, nearly tumbling over a root on stubby four-year-old legs. "Pumpkins!"

"Careful," laughed Aravis behind him, slowed by the expectant roundness of her stomach that even the gathers of her cherry-red dress couldn't quite hide.

Cor shot her a grin, the Crown Prince of Archenland bouncing their daughter on one arm as the tiny girl clung to his shoulder, wispy yellow curls brushing his cheek as she twisted around to watch her big brother's energetic detour through the noisy brush.

"Well, that's a find," barked Corin, jogging to keep up with his nephew. "Big 'uns, aren't they?"

"Really big!" Ram slapped both hands down enthusiastically onto a bright orange pumpkin that stood nearly as tall as he did, poking up out of the muddy brown undergrowth like a splash of brilliant color on a dull canvas.

Several more lay dotted around it, just off the path they'd been following, white and orange and big and small, vines curling and tangling through a mess of leaves and roots and brush, half buried like colorful spots of hidden treasure, and Ram grasped the stem of his particularly large find, scrambling up to the top and straddling the giant fruit as if it were his great and mighty steed.

"Say, these remind me of a story," said Corin, dropping down to crouch in front of the boy and leaning with both elbows on the edge of the pumpkin. "You wouldn't like to hear it, would you?"

"Yes, story!" cried the boy, nodding until his wild brown curls bounced. "Tell a story!"

"You're sure you're brave enough? It's a really scary story."

Ram only nodded all the more violently, and Cor scoffed a grin as he and his wife caught up to the two of them.

"Here we go again," he murmured.

Aravis took her husband's arm, smirking up at him as his brother put on his expertly practiced storytelling voice.

"Long ago, when I was no older than you are now, the four Kings and Queens fought a great battle at Beruna."

"I know that story," whined Ram, leaning forward on his pumpkin.

"Oh," said Corin, wagging a finger and poking his nephew in the stomach to a squeal and a sharp giggle. "You know the beginning of it. But you see, after all the great brutes in the Witch's army were killed, the Narnians heaped their bodies into the forest in a mass grave and hardly buried them at all, abandoning them to rot away where nobody cared to look. That was, until we passed through a great many years later—myself and the Kings and Queens."

Ram gave a little gasp as recognition lit up his eyes, that same little burst of awe that escaped him whenever Corin mentioned his own friendship with the old Narnian monarchs.

"We were on our way to Beaversdam, on a day not so very unlike this one, all the trees turning red and gold and shedding their leaves, a nip of autumn chill in the air, when we came to that very same place where the great ancient monsters were buried. And do you know what we found?"

Ram watched with wide eyes.

"Pumpkins?" guessed Cor before Corin could get the word out, earning himself a dry glare from his twin.

"I'm sorry, I thought I was telling the story."

"Well, you asked." Cor smiled innocently, and his brother rolled his eyes, wild golden hair falling into his face despite its usual high knot that never seemed to hold.