( 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗟𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 )
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇
⸻ Cordelia Winterbourne's ordinary life with her mother was shattered by the onset of war, prompting Cordelia's mother to make a gut-wrenching decision by sending her daughter away for...
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"You know, being the best swordsman in Narnia, I'm quite impressed with your sword skills," Edmund remarked as we headed towards the spot where he had positioned the rowboat earlier, having taken it from the two Telmarine men.
"Have you forgotten I'm also the best swordswoman in Narnia?" I retorted with a playful glint in my eyes, causing him to chuckle in response.
"We both know I'm only the best swordsman in Narnia," he quipped with a smirk.
"Wanna bet on that, Pevensie?" I challenged, but the boy merely smirked in response.
"Oh, please. We both know you're only going to lose," he playfully retorted.
"Whatever you say," I sighed, pausing as we readied ourselves to board the rowboat.
Once the others boarded the rowboat, Edmund, standing in front of me, took the lead. As he settled in, he turned back and extended his arms, offering me his assistance to embark on the boat.
"What a gentleman," I remarked with a teasing smile, expressing my gratitude as I accepted his hand and joined him on the boat. Seated beside Edmund, I watched as Peter took his place in front of us, ready to row the boat on our journey ahead.
The calm of our surroundings wrapped around us like a gentle embrace as we paused to take in the serene beauty before us. The soft lapping of water against the boat was the only sound, a soothing rhythm that deepened the quiet peace.
The view was picture-perfect-the water shimmered with the fading light, reflecting pastel blues and soft hues of the sky as day gave way to dusk. Wisps of cloud drifted lazily overhead, casting playful shadows on the surface below. The setting sun poured its golden glow across the horizon, weaving a breathtaking canvas of light and color.
The air carried a crisp freshness, laced with the fragrance of blooming flowers, the earthy scent of the woods along the banks, and a faint trace of salt from the nearby sea. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds wove a soft harmony into the tranquility surrounding us.
Within this serene scene, Peter guided the boat with steady hands, his rhythmic strokes merging effortlessly with the stillness. We sat in quiet reflection, each adrift in thought, pausing only to steal glances at the enchanting view unfolding around us.
"They used to dance," the younger Pevensie responded, reminiscing about the livelier times.
"Wasn't long after you left that the Telmarines invaded," Trumpkin, the dwarf explained. "Those who survived retreated to the woods. And the trees, they retreated so deep into themselves that they haven't been heard from them since."
"I don't understand," Lucy spoke again, her confusion evident. "How could Aslan have let this happen?"
"Aslan?" Trumpkin asked, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Thought he abandoned us when you lot did," he finished, his words casting a somber regret over our group, prompting a momentary silence as we grappled with the weight of his statement.
"We didn't mean to leave, you know," I interjected, breaking the somber silence that hung around us.
"Makes no difference now, does it?" Trumpkin responded, his tone carrying a hint of resignation.
"Get us to the Narnians..." Peter spoke up, his voice steady as he continued to row the boat, "And it will." His words carried a note of determination, hinting at the hope that lay ahead despite the remorseful past.
Once more, our journey slipped back into a serene silence, accompanied solely by the rhythmic sounds of Peter rowing the boat, the gentle splashes of water providing the only audible rhythm in the calm atmosphere. The stillness wrapped around us like a comforting cloak.
I turned to the boy by my side, catching a glimpse of regret shadowing his expression as he absorbed Trumpkin's words.
In an unspoken gesture, my fingers slipped into his, guided by a quiet impulse. His warmth spread into my once-cold hands, a gentle heat that eased the chill and lingered like a promise.
The simple touch carried more than comfort, it deepened the bond between us, silent yet profound, echoing the silent harmony of our journey through the serene waters of Narnia.
The boy's gaze turned towards me, an expression of solace evident in his eyes as he tenderly squeezed my hands, reciprocating the unspoken comfort of our shared gesture.
"You know," the dwarf spoke up once again, prompting our attention as Edmund and I remained hand in hand.
"I expected you to be more evil, especially with the reputation of being the daughter of the White Witch," he remarked, casting a curious glance in my direction.
With a faint smile playing on my lips, I met the dwarf's gaze. "Appearances can be deceiving," I replied calmly. "We're not always defined by our lineage or what others believe us to be."
Once again, silence settled over us, with Trumpkin keeping his peace as the journey drifted on in quiet ease. The steady rhythm of the oars slicing through the water was the only sound that lingered, a gentle cadence to our wandering thoughts.
As we reached the shoreline, Trumpkin disembarked first, followed by the two girls and then the two boys. I lingered, being the last to step off the rowboat.
As I placed my right foot onto the shoreline while my left remained on the boat, an unexpected movement in the water caused the boat to sway. I lost my balance and lurched forward, my body tipping towards the shore. In that instant, I was saved from a tumble by the swift action of the brunette Pevensie. His hands wrapped around my waist, arresting my fall, and we found ourselves mere centimeters apart, our faces brought unexpectedly close.
From the proximity between us, I found myself captivated by his distinct features- the sunlit warmth that bathed his deep chocolate-brown eyes, locking in an unspoken connection with mine. His freckled cheeks, dusted with a radiant rosy hue, seemed to come alive beneath the light, giving him an endearing charm that felt almost ethereal.
As our gazes met, I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his complexion-a blush that mirrored my own-though perhaps his was even more telling than mine.
"Are you two done staring at each other?" Peter's voice intervened, prompting us to swiftly draw back from our closeness and redirect our attention to the blond Pevensie, who wore a knowing smirk.
Before we could respond, a sudden scream pierced the air, emanating from Lucy.
