My dear king, save me. (Aslan fanfic) (EDITING!)

The Girl without matches

- To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. 

-J.K. Rowling

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The slight -crunch, crunch-  sound, was the only thing to be heard as my tiny feet patted across the forest ground. The snow would probably have reached my knees had I been heavier. The climate here up north was ruthless. And the soft blanket of white frozen water was as enticing as it was deceiving. You'd die up here if you did not watch your steps. If you had no idea what you were doing. The mountains were never merciful.

Yet I always longed for them. 

My bare feet left little to no trace behind me as I walked. I could no longer feel them, nor the earlier prickling sensation in my arms. I was numb.
The little blue nightgown didn't really do a great job shielding my body from the biting cold. But I paid it no mind. I felt at one with the cold, silent winter night.

Alone. That's what I am. That's who I am. No family. No connection. I don't share a loving or caring bond with anyone, or anything. Only the cold, beautiful, and silent Christmas night.

I kept on walking. That was the only reason I was alive at this point. Keeping my blood flowing. But I knew I couldn't go on for much longer. I'd been exposed to the harsh winter temperature for too long already. But I wasn't there yet. Not yet. 

I clambered over a fallen lodge as I continued to make my way up the mountain. But then my gown got caught up in the sharp edge of a snapped branch, and I lost my footing and fell. Bracing myself as I went through the first frozen layer of snow. Ouch... Like falling through porous glass. 

I couldn't get up. There was nothing left in me. I could feel nothing. Opening my eyes I peeked at my hands. It was hard to see anything in the darkness of the forest. I couldn't see the hands in front of my face. Bearly I could make out the treetops above me, as the stars and the moon shone brightly above them. 

I longed for comfort. Anything to make me feel better. I tried to spot it, in between the treetops. The northern star. But I can't find it. There are too many branches in the way. I could feel a tear glide down my cheek. I was just so tired. 

Closing my eyes again I tried to think of something else. I thought of the books. The stories I'd read when I could get away from the matron or the sisters. when I could sneak off to the library. Great, tall shelves filled with endless opportunities, countless stories. The room was huge, the dome-like ceiling so high you'd hurt your neck looking up... It was a maze of imagination and brilliance. down the hall, past the two first shelves, then take a left, walk till you meet the end shelf, then take a right and left again. In the farthest corner of the library, there is a spot. Right in the corner, where the one shelf meets the next, there is a crack, no bigger than one-foot n' a half, if not smaller. But big enough for a twelve-year-old girl to squeeze in between. And hide. To hide away from the nightmare she calls life. To dream herself far away. 

I felt another tear fall. regret building as I thought back to the little safe haven I had. 

No. It was better this way. It is too much. 

I tried to think of something else. Of a story, I've read. One that has brought me comfort before. 
A story very fitting for this moment. 

It is a story about a young girl, a little girl who has to sell matches instead of celebrating with her family. The little match girl. Have you heard of it? It's quite sad really, but, I think it's also kind of nice.