Once, there lived four children; Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. And they shared the most marvelous of adventures in the back of an old wardrobe, tucked away in a spare room.
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Torrential snowfall heavily impaired my vision and crunched loudly under my fur-lined boots. I ran parallel to Edmund Pevensie's footprints, which were quickly filling up with snow. The hood of my cloak blew off as I raced into the wind, chasing desperately after the misinformed human. It was my duty to keep him safe, and letting him deliver himself to Jadis was the opposite of safe. I dodged trees and rocks, jumping and sliding when need be, doing everything in my power to catch up to the boy as quickly as possible.
An hour of uphill running later, I reached him. Edmund's coat-less figure stood at the edge of the hill that lead down toward Lake Heire, upon which the Witch's House was built. He seemed to be waiting, contemplating something...
"Edmund Pevensie!" I shouted over the wind and snow. His head whipped in my direction, a deep-set scowl on his face.
"What do you want?" He growled. "Come to feed me to the Witch's wolves?"
"What do you think you are doing?!" I hissed at him, exasperatedly throwing my arms up. "She is going to kill you!"
"How do you know that, huh?! All you've ever done is go against her! Maybe if you just listened to her, she'd be kinder to you!" Edmund yelled in return.
"You have no idea what you are getting yourself into, child." I snarled through clenched teeth. I desperately attempted to reign in my frustration, but I was failing miserably. "I know because she killed me!"
"That was her?" Edmund's voice lowered and his face softened for a moment. But in the blink of an eye, it was replaced with an intense bitterness and anger. "That's because you started trying to kill her before you heard her out! It was self-defense!"
My fingernails dug deeply into the palms of my hands as I tried to keep my emotions at bay. "I will not save you from this horror you bring upon yourself," I stated coldly, trying to steady my ragged breathing. "If you wish to join a murderess, Traitor, I will not stop you. Or rescue you when you realize who she truly is." I turned my head away from him, but in my peripheral vision, I watched as he inched closer to the Witch's House.
"Just know!" I shouted. "Should you somehow manage to escape or be rescued, my King—Aslan—is merciful and will take you back! I will not."
Suddenly, from far behind us, I heard Peter Pevensie's faint, frightened scream. "Hurry!" His voice echoed in my ears.
It took twenty minutes before my siblings and the Pevensies and Beavers arrived on the little hill. Edmund had never stopped his trek toward the Witch's House and now stood before the enormous, icy doors. I sat pathetically in the snow on the edge of the hill, watching the Son of Adam walk willingly into the clutches of my murderer and picking at the scabs forming on my palms. My nails had dug deep enough to draw blood and, as the eight others ran toward me, I kept my attention on the drips of scarlet on the pure white snow.
