This Is Home 》Edmund Pevensie

Chapter 8

I still clung onto Peter like glue as our legs swirled around in the stream like a tree on a windy day.

All I could think about was air and te fact that I couldn't breathe! I probably should've learnt how to swim too.
While I struggled to breathe I tried to distract myself by gazing at my surroundings. Our silhouetted figures dragging like shadows, it contrasted with the subdued blue film.

Finally after long and antagonising minutes (which seemed like hours), we emerged to the surface of the water.
I immediately exhaled heavily, greedily taking in the oxygen. As we were being whisked away by the fierce currents, my spine quivered as the frosty air attacked my skin.

Once the ice berg hard collided with the banks of the river I crawled on all fours back onto land. I breathlessly tossed myself to the frost running my hands through my saturated hair, ruminating the abnormal events that just passed. Shortly after comprehending the situation I sat up to ensure everyone was safe. It was then I knew someone was absent.
"Where's Lucy?" I interogatted, worriedly, jumping up from the ground.

Susan and I called her name numerous times, but her voice never answered. "LUCY!" I cried out.

"Has anyone seen my coat?" called a familiar voice, moments later.

To the sound of Lucy's cry I whipped around quickly to see her advancing towards us struggling to adjust cardigans. At the sight, I suspired with a smile.

"Don't you worry dear, your brother has got you well looked after." said Mr Beaver, as Peter put Lucy's coat on her.

"I don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore." announced Mrs Beaver with a jovial expression.

Following her gaze, the snow had begun to melt away and the trees were regaining colour with blossoms.
Shades of pink, red, orange and all separate varieties flourished the earth around.

At the sight my lips grew into a wide smile while I danced like a total lunatic around the trees. The Beavers and the Pevensie's laugh at my foolishness.

*

Walking a while inland, majority of the snow had dissolved and the weather became warm and pleasent.

On the long journey I looked over my shoulder and saw fields of lovely flowers that blissfully sparkled vibrantly as the sun shone down on them.
There was one however that caught my eye. A sombre flower, dull and lifeless it was the outcast and strayed from all the other flowers that accompanied. Dangling by a thread, like a rag doll hanging from a rope. The colours it once musy of had were subdued, awaiting death. Observing it for quite some time, I astrayed from the company and quickly made my way towards it, crouching over it I lightly stroked the dry and delicate petals. Suddenly, web- like liquid flurried around the flower like a cyclone. The head of the flower slowly began to rise, the petals bloomed and majestic colours rippled into luminous blankets.
As it finished growing, I blinked, taking a mental picture. I examined the enchantment one last time before returning to the company, taking in the events that had just occrued with the magic performed.

*

Eventually we made it to an open field, multiple tents of gold and red were spread across the beautiful green, luscious meadow. Assuming this was Aslan's camp we ventured through the sea of tents. On all sides we were surrounded by centaurs, fauns, dryads, eagles any mythical creature you could possibly think of!
If it weren't for professor Kirke's library I wouldn't know the different types of mythical creatures.
As we passed the creatures all heads turned towards us, immediately stopping what they were doing. Murmuring filled the atmosphere, but thanks to my good hearing I could just pick up the muttering escaping the creatures lips.