SMOKE SIGNALS

From Glasswater Creek to River Rush

The group split up for a time to gather what supplies they needed from the ruins of Cair Paravel. Susan had offered Cahira a change of clothes, which she had gratefully accepted. Her dress was not only 4 layers of soaked fabric, but was weighed down with sand as well. The dress Susan gave to her was a dark but rich shade of blue, with delicate white embroidery along the bishop sleeves and fitted bodice.

"It's beautiful," Cahira had muttered as she put it on.

"I wore that one when I was... 26, I believe? Very comfortable for riding."

When they returned to the beach, they found Edmund, Peter, and Trumpkin had pulled the Telmarine boat ashore. It was a comfortable enough fit for the six of them. Trumpkin sat at the bow, as he had the most familiarity with the area they were in.

"Our den is in the Shuddering Wood," he told them. "That's where we should start looking for your Caspian."

Lucy and Susan sat side by side across from him, while Cahira and Edmund brought up the rear, facing Peter (who had taken it upon himself to row the craft). It was a little past midday now- the sun was high in the sky, but they were blissfully shaded by the tall rock formations that rose up around them. A light breeze blew through the rowboat, and Cahira shivered. Her dress was dry, but her hair was still a little damp from her involuntary dunking.

"They're so still," Lucy sighed as she stared up at the trees.

"They're trees," Trumpkin said dismissively. "What do you expect?"

"They used to dance."

Cahira smiled to herself. The youngest Pevensie had a way of speaking that showed more wisdom than any of her siblings at times. It made sense, she supposed. It had struck her in the same way earlier, with Susan. To hear someone Cahira's own age reference a time when she was in her twenties... well, it wasn't the strangest thing she had encountered in the past day.

"It wasn't long after you left that the Telmarines invaded." Trumpkin recounted. Cahira didn't miss the way Peter's eyes flicked to her at the mention of her people. "Those that survived retreated into the the woods. And the trees- well, they retreated so deeply inside themselves that no one has heard from them since."

"I don't understand. How could Aslan have let this happen?"

"Aslan?" Trumpkin looked over his shoulder at the wide span of river in front of them. He held a profound sadness in his demeanor, and Cahira almost felt bad for the conversation happening in the first place. "Thought he abandoned us when you lot did."

"We didn't mean to leave, you know," Peter said softly, looking over his shoulder at the dwarf.

"Makes no difference now, does it?"

"Get us to the Narnians," he declared, "and it will."

Peter's determination was admirable- from the way he set his jaw to his hardened gaze, anyone could tell he meant what he said. Cahira got a flash of what he must've looked like in all his glory, hundreds of years ago. Why so many had bent the knee to "High King Peter". She wasn't sure whether she liked it or not. She had spent all her life amongst nobility. He would need to back his claims before she'd bow.

His gaze flicked to hers, and she held it resolutely for a second, still lost in thought. His brow furrowed as she kept eye contact, and another moment passed before she recovered herself. With a start, she looked away, focusing intently on the point where the water below met the wood of the rowboat.

"Cahira," Edmund spoke for the first time since they had boarded the boat. She looked up at him with a nod. "Do you know anything else about your uncle's plans? Anything you've heard, anything they're planning?"