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 a while to keep her safe.
However, fate had a di...
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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 tranquility of our surroundings enveloped us in a comforting embrace as we took a collective moment to appreciate the serene beauty that surrounded us. The gentle lull of the water against the boat was the only sound that echoed in the air, creating a soothing melody that added to the peaceful ambiance.
The scenery was nothing short of picturesque—the shimmering surface of the water reflected the soft hues of the sky, painted with pastel tones of blues as the day gently transitioned towards dusk. Wisps of clouds adorned the heavens, casting playful shadows on the tranquil waters beneath us. The setting sun, casting its golden rays across the horizon, bestowed a warm, ethereal glow upon the landscape, creating a breathtaking tapestry of colors that stretched across the horizon.
The air held a crisp freshness, carrying with it the subtle scents of nature—the fragrance of blooming flowers, the earthy aroma of the woods that lined the banks, and the faint hint of salt in the breeze from the nearby sea. The occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds added a delightful harmony to the tranquility that enveloped us.
Amidst this serene tableau, Peter expertly navigated the boat, his rhythmic rowing movements blending seamlessly with the peaceful atmosphere. We sat in contemplative silence, each lost in our thoughts, occasionally stealing glances at the enchanting panorama that unfolded 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 inquired, 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 tranquil 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 the Trumpkin's words.
In an unspoken gesture, my fingers gently entwined with his, a natural movement driven by a subtle impulse. I felt his warmth seep into my once-chilled hands, a soothing transformation spreading from his touch to mine.
The connection between us, unspoken and tender, was intensified by the comforting heat that now enveloped my hands, creating an unspoken bond that seemed to echo 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 enveloped us as Trumpkin remained quiet, allowing the journey to unfold with a peaceful hush. The rhythmic sounds of the rowboat cutting through the water became the only audible companions to our contemplative 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 in that fleeting moment, lending an endearing charm to his countenance. In the warmth of the sun, his features displayed an almost ethereal quality.
As our gazes met, I couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his complexion—a subtle blush, a testament to the closeness of our encounter. It mirrored my own flustered reaction, perhaps even more pronounced than his.
"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.
