frost | e. pevensie

1.13 | late night talks

"Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings."
- William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

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Andie sat cross-legged at the crest of the hill, looking out at the dark abyss that was the sea. The sun had set hours ago and most of the camp had gone to sleep, leaving Andie alone with her thoughts. The breeze swept her hair into her face but she didn't bother to braid it back. She tucked the strands that had gone astray behind her ear and sighed, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back so that she was looking at the sky.

The stars shimmered above her, dotting the night sky with constellations of tiny twinkling lights. She searched for The Leopard, trying to remember its location. She couldn't remember who had taught her the constellations, but the memory of learning them lingered in the back of her mind.

Her memories seemed to be always right on the tip of her tongue. Something as simple as archery or stargazing would feel familiar, taunting her with its hidden knowledge. Everything was just out of reach, just hidden enough to create empty visions in its place.

She wondered if she would ever remember.

She had been certain that Aslan would restore her memories, that all would be well once she brought the Pevensies to the camp. It had seemed like a reasonable belief at the time, one fueled by hope and wishful thinking.

However, she was beginning to think that perhaps this was who she was. Perhaps she simply was unimportant. A nobody. Perhaps she couldn't remember because there was nothing to remember.

Nothing worth remembering, at least.

"They're a lot different than the stars at home."

Andie sat bolt upright, reaching instinctively for her bow. When she turned and saw that it was only Peter, she relaxed, releasing the death grip she had on her weapon.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," the boy apologized, sinking onto the ground next to her. His clothes looked slightly disheveled and his hair was messy, as if he'd been tossing and turning in bed.

"You couldn't sleep either?"

"Every time I close my eyes, all I see is that wolf," Peter admitted, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him, "I keep thinking that they're going to come back and this time I won't be there to save the day."

"They're not going to come back," Andie assured him, "And even if they did, they wouldn't get far. The borders are lined with guards keeping watch. No one is getting in or out." Andie tried to sound sure of herself, but she had to admit that she was shaken up from their encounter with the wolves as well.

"I can't help thinking that I should have just listened to Susan."

"What do you mean?"

"This has all been great," he said quietly, "but if we'd gone back like she'd wanted, we would all be safe." Peter dropped his gaze to the ground, absently pulling at the grass and tying it into knots.