Cressida's whole world is one frozen prison.
The land of Narnia was long ago plunged into eternal winter by the White Witch, Jadis Queen of Narnia. The powerful sorceress who stole Cressida from her home and her people. Cressida is little more than...
My face breaks through the freezing water, and my body forces me to gulp down the air. Lucy shrieks as she begins to slide down the ice. I take my hand off my sword for a moment to haul her back up before quickly gripping the hilt again.
Damn, the water's cold.
The beavers aim us towards the shore, and once in the shallows, Susan heaves herself off the ice. I pull my sword from the ice and stand, pulling Lucy with me.
Something's wrong.
I look down at the too-light weight in my hand and see only Lucy's coat, no Lucy.
My mouth pops open, eyes wide.
No, no, no, no.
It's impossible; I had her under my arm. I never let go, not once. Susan turns back to me, and her face falls.
"What've you done?" She demands.
I hold up the sopping coat, the words frozen in my throat as I stare at Susan.
"Lucy! Lucy!" Susan shouts.
My mind wheels as I take in the thawing landscape. She could have ended up anywhere. Back up the river where the wolves could find her, swept away with the current towards who knows where, or worst of all, trapped beneath the ice and roiling current. I'm ready to jump back into the river when a twig snaps under a small foot.
"Has anyone seen my coat!" Lucy's voice calls out.
The weight sitting on my chest falls away as she trudges along the bank, pulling her cardigan around her.
"Don't worry dear, your brother's got you well looked after." Mr Beaver jests.
I shoot him a look as Lucy walks towards me.
Before I can pull the coat around her shoulders, Mrs Beaver chimes in,
" I don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore."
All around us, the landscape is turning from winter to spring. Buds bloom, icicles thaw, and green leaves sprout from every branch.
Susan and I shuck off our coats, leaving all three hung over trees at the water's edge.
Maybe we'd come back for them soon.
"What about Lady Cressida?" Lucy asks.
I turn my head back towards the river, looking back the way we came.
"She was trying to buy us time." I breathe.
She barely knows us, barely knows me and sacrificed her freedom to help us. With only a small hope that we'd meet again. She didn't even sound certain when she said the witch wouldn't kill her.
She could already be dead. The thought of her dead makes my stomach churn.
"That waterfall burst at exactly the right moment because of that girl; she saved you all." Mr Beaver says.
"What do you mean, she had no way of controlling that." Susan argues.
"You see, dear, we've all heard stories of the girl the witch keeps locked in her castle," Mrs Beaver explains, "they say the girl has magic, a magic different to the witch."
"Many Narnia's have heard whispers of her practising in the woods; I think whatever she can do saved you today." Mr Beaver continues.
"What will happen to her?" I ask, turning back to the beavers.
"We can only hope that whatever Aslan can do to get your brother back, he can do the same for her."
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Aslan's camp thrums with life. More expansive than I could have imagined and teeming with all kinds of strange and wonderful creatures. They stare as we pass by, falling silent and halting their work.
"Why are they staring at us?" Susan mumbled from the side of her mouth.
"Maybe they think you look funny." Lucy giggles.
Susan pulls a face at our younger sister. Usually, I would laugh, but my mind is consumed.
Edmund and Cressida have both been captured by the witch, alive or dead, I don't know. War is brewing, and these people expect us to lead. They expect me to be a leader.
We stop before the largest of the tents erected atop a small hill. A huge centaur stands guard at the entrance before stepping out to meet us.
I don't know exactly what I'm meant to do, so I pull out my sword, holding it out before me,
"We've come to see Aslan."
I try to deepen my voice and sound less anxious, but it probably doesn't work. The tent flaps wave on a phantom breeze, and all around us, the Narnians kneel. The creature that steps out, however, is unexpected.
It's the biggest lion I've ever seen, though I've only seen a few photographs and one at the London Zoo before the war. His mane shines like gold, and his face is serene and calm.
I know that this is Aslan. Anyone would know that he, this lion, is a king.
I take a knee, balancing the tip of my sword on the ground.
"Welcome, Peter, Son of Adam, welcome Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve, and welcome to you, Beavers; you have my thanks," he pauses, "but where is the fourth?"
"That's why we're here, sir; we need your help." I explain as I rise to my feet.
"We had a little trouble along the way." Susan offers.
"Our brother's been captured by the White Witch." I say, sheathing my sword.
"Captured?" Aslan growls, "How could this happen?"
"He betrayed them, Your Majesty." Mr Beaver offers slowly.
I look over to the beaver. I know he's right; that's exactly what Edmund did, but he's still my brother.
"Then he has betrayed us all!" The centaur claims.
"Peace, Oreius." Aslan commands. "I'm sure there's an explanation."
"It's my fault, really. I was too hard on him." I sigh.
"We all were." Susan places a hand on my shoulder.
"Sir, he's our brother." Lucy pleads, her voice soft.
We're all too young for this.
"I know, dear one, but that only makes the betrayal all the worse." Aslan shakes his mane. "This may be harder than you think."
