𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 || peter pevensie [2]

chapter eight ~ the aftermath

Nimueh bowed her head as Susan finished telling her the story. "To have your father taken from you by someone you thought you could trust..."

"I know. He was distraught."

"I can imagine."

Susan patted Destrier's neck. She had walked beside Nimueh, who had ridden the horse the entire journey back to the How, telling her everything that happened before the battle – Caspian had gotten off to walk alone not long before they passed through the town of Beruna. As Nimueh was able to piece everything together, she could see where both he and Peter had gone wrong. What she didn't understand was why the High King had felt the need to call in the troupes when all of their chances had been spent.

No one had spoken to Peter since they had left Miraz' castle. In the beginning, he had looked so sorrowful, so deep in thought, that none dared to bother him, not even Nimueh. Now he had dismounted his horse and marched to the head of the group with a hard frown set in his brow.

"I'm going to speak to Caspian, make sure he's okay."

Nimueh nodded, watching Susan stride ahead with weary eyes.

"I think we're almost back." Edmund had appeared at her side. "How's your leg?"

"It doesn't hurt so much now, but I'm starting to feel a little lightheaded. I'm not looking forward to taking this arrow out. Were you injured at all?"

"Just a few scrapes. Nothing serious."

"It shouldn't have happened. It was so careless."

They travelled a while in silence, neither knowing what to say about the events of the night. When they entered the clearing, Nimueh let out a heavy sigh, finding relief in the open air after hours confined by woodland. The thick mist seemed to have become a permanent resident around the How. The low, mournful tone of the Centaurs' horn carried over the heads of the soldiers, resonating in Nimueh's ears.

"Edmund, could you please help me down?" She pulled on the reins to bring Destrier to a halt.

"Of course." He looked at her injured thigh, the broken arrow shaft still sticking a few inches out from the bloody tear in her trousers, the head embedded in her leg. "We're going to have to get you down from the other side; you can't put any weight on that leg."

Nimueh shifted in the saddle and a sharp sting ran from her thigh to her toes. "Maybe I should just stay on the horse."

Edmund chuckled. "Here, put your hands on my shoulders and I'll lift you down." She did so, Edmund taking her waist, pulling her gently off the horse. Instinctively, she bent her injured leg to make the movement easier, but winced and seethed at the shocking pain. "It's okay, just put your arm over my shoulder and we'll get you to Lucy."

Landing on her good leg, a Faun found her other arm and helped her hop over to the courtyard near the entrance to the How. Nimueh bit her bottom lip, but on the uneven ground, three of them stumbled and a pitiful yelp escaped her lips.

Peter's head snapped at the sound, turning on his heel, and hurrying over as Edmund set her down on a boulder at the side of the courtyard. "What happened?"

"What does it look like?" Susan said, joining the huddle, Caspian following but stopped a little way behind. "She got shot."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Peter asked, eyes wide, brows furrowed.