Susan and Lucy smile at each other,
and ran off.
Peter and Edmund follow after them.

August lags behind a little,
taking in the scene with wide eyes.
Her heart races with excitement and disbelief.

She isn’t in London anymore,
and the familiar energy of Narnia pulses in her veins.

Still trying to process what just happened, August watches as they all jump into the water and start playing.

She laughs, her mood lifting slightly from the overwhelming strangeness of their sudden arrival.

She hesitates, crouching down to touch the sand beneath her, feeling the grains slip through her fingers.

It felt so real.

Edmund looks up. "Where do you suppose we are?"

August stands up and walks over to join them, her eyes scanning the horizon with curiosity.

"Well, where do you think?" Peter asks with a smile.

"Well, I don't remember any ruins in Narnia," Edmund states, looking up.

"Neither do I," Susan agrees.

The Pevensies and August look up and see the ruins.

A chill runs down August’s spine as she stares at the towering remains of what must have once been magnificent.

The sight feels oddly familiar.

Could this really be... Narnia? she wondered.

As they explore the ruins.
August follows behind,
her head filled with a whirlwind of questions.

Why had they ended up here?
What would happen next?

Her heart thuds as her eyes drift over the decaying remnants of the past.

"I wonder who lived here," Lucy thinks aloud.

Susan notices something shining on the ground and picks it up.

"I think we did," Susan replies. The five children look at the golden chess knight that Susan has found.

"Hey, that's mine... from my chess set," Edmund frowns.

"Which chess set?" Peter asks cluelessly.

"Well, I didn't exactly have a solid gold chess set in Finchley, did I?" Edmund retorted.

August’s gaze narrows at the chess piece,
A lump forming in her throat on the realisation of where she could actually be.

She looks over at Peter, noticing the same sense of disbelief etched into his features.

"It can't be," Lucy whispers.

Lucy runs over to the dais and they all follow.

"Don't you see?" Lucy asks, her excitement contagious. She had a big smile plastered on her face.

"What?" Peter asks, looking around.

"Imagine walls... And columns there... and a glass roof," Lucy says, her voice rising in wonder.

"Cair Paravel," Peter murmurs.

August’s eyes widen in realization.
This is it, she thinks.
The home they had always told her about in hushed, nostalgic voices.

The place where it had all started.

Edmund bends down to look closely at a rock, brushing away the dust.

"Catapults," he says suddenly, eyes widening.

"What do you mean?" Peter asks, glancing over.

"This didn't just happen. Cair Paravel was attacked," Edmund explains,
his voice heavy with realization.

The boys run over to a crumbling wall, and with a combined effort, they start moving debris to reveal a door hidden behind it.

Peter gives a decisive nod. "Let's see what's inside." They break the door down with a loud crash.

Inside, Peter tears off a piece of his shirt and wraps it around a sturdy stick.

"I don't suppose you have any matches in there, do you?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

"No... but would this help?" Edmund replies, pulling an electric torch out of his bag with a grin.

"You might've mentioned that a bit sooner!" Peter laughs, his excitement bubbling over.

August,
who had been surveying the surroundings, crosses her arms and rolls her eyes playfully, contrasting her earlier expressions.

"Honestly, are you guys trying to win an award for most dramatic entrance? Because I think you’ve nailed it."

The Pevensies step inside,
with Edmund leading the way.

Lucy pauses, her heart racing when she sees the treasure chamber, four chests gleaming below. They rush down the stairs, breathless with anticipation.

"I can't believe it. It's all still here," Peter murmurs in disbelief, eyes wide as they all rush to their chests.

Lucy pulls out a dress, holding it up to her chest with a nostalgic smile.

"I was so tall," Lucy says, laughter bubbling in her voice.

"Well, you were older then," Edmund points out, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The moment lightens the mood, surprising Susan, Peter, and Lucy.

"As opposed to hundreds of years later... when you're younger," Edmund quips, turning to Susan with a raised eyebrow. She simply shrugs, a smile tugging at her lips.

Peter blows the dust off a large gold plate in his hands, revealing the image of a Lion.

He looks up, slowly walking towards the statue standing behind his chest, a mix of awe and sorrow on his face.

"What is it?" Lucy asks, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"My horn. I must've left it on my saddle the day we went back," Susan frowns, her expression turning serious.

Peter slowly opens his chest, retrieving his sword and drawing it with a determined glint in his eyes.

"When Aslan bears his teeth, winter meets its death," he recites the inscription, the weight of it settling in the air.

"And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again," Lucy adds softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Everyone we know—Tumnus, the Beavers... they're all—"

August, still trying to piece together what has happened, steps forward, her brow furrowed.

"Wait, what do you mean? Are they... in trouble? I don’t understand what’s going on," she admits, her voice a mix of concern and confusion.

Peter looks at her, empathy in his eyes. "We don’t know yet, but we need to find out."

August nods, trying to shake off her worries. "Okay, so... what do we do now?" she asks, her uncertainty palpable but masked by her determination to stay with them.

"I think it's time we found out what's going on," Peter states, the determination in his voice igniting a sense of purpose in them all.

                                  ~~•~~

Two soldiers row down the river, one glancing at Trumpkin, who is bound and gagged.

“He won’t stop staring,” one soldier mutters, irritation clear in his voice.

“So don’t look,” the other replies, but Trumpkin continues to stare defiantly, his eyes narrowed.

“Here’s fine,” one soldier says, and they both lift Trumpkin.

Suddenly, two arrows hit the side of the boat, startling everyone.

The Pevensies rush up, drawing their weapons, with August trailing behind, her heart racing as confusion and concern swirl in her mind.

“Drop him!” Susan orders, her voice firm and commanding, and August grips a small dagger that Edmund lent her, feeling the weight of the moment.

“‘Drop him’?” Trumpkin protests, muffled by the gag.

The soldiers, startled, drop him into the water.
One grabs a crossbow, but Susan swiftly shoots him before he can react.

The other soldier jumps overboard and swims away,
leaving Trumpkin to sink beneath the surface.

“Hang on!” Peter yells, diving into the water.

He pulls Trumpkin to shore, gasping for air as they both tumble onto the bank.

Edmund pulls the boat in, and Lucy quickly cuts the dwarf's bonds with her dagger.

Trumpkin yanks the gag off and turns to Susan, exasperated. “‘Drop him’?! That’s the best you can come up with?” he shouts, shaking off water.

“A simple thank-you would suffice,” Susan retorts, crossing her arms, though August notices her annoyance doesn't seem to faze the dwarf.

“They were doing fine drowning me without your help,” Trumpkin huffs, glaring at them.

“Maybe we should have let them,” Edmund mutters, giving Trumpkin a sidelong glare.

August watches the exchange, feeling the tension rise, and a part of her wonders if they should have just let the soldiers do their job.

And another part of August feels so very strange being this quiet,
Her biggest record was 7 minutes and 28 seconds.
But she thought better to stay quiet rather than speak when she shouldn't.

“Why were they trying to kill you anyway?” Lucy asks, her voice filled with curiosity, pulling August’s attention back to the moment.

“They’re Telmarines. That’s what they do,” Trumpkin replies, his expression grave, and August’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Telmarines? In Narnia?” Edmund asks, incredulous.

“Where have you been for the last few hundred years?” Trumpkin snaps, raising an eyebrow.

August fidgets, feeling out of place in the chaos of the moment.

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Lucy chuckles nervously, trying to lighten the mood, but August’s heart sinks.

She feels the weight of the long story that has brought them all here,
a feeling of disconnect from the others who seem to know more than she does.

Trumpkin eyes the Pevensies, taking in their familiar faces. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. You’re it? You’re the kings and queens of old? If so, then who is she? I don't remember five of you.“  Trumpkin exclaims, disbelief etched on his face.

“Umm…I'm August?”August awkwardly said, suddenly feeling out of place.

Edmund keeps his hand on Augusts shoulder,
Sensing her feelings.

“High King Peter… the Magnificent,” Peter introduces himself, holding out his hand with a smirk.

August watches Peter with admiration, feeling a warmth in her chest as he carries himself with confidence.
He was her first best friend and will always be one.

“Probably could have left out the last bit,” Susan jokes, attempting to break the tension.

“Probably,” Trumpkin agrees, chuckling despite himself.

“You might be surprised,” Peter says, drawing his sword with determination.

“Oh, you don’t want to do that, boy,” Trumpkin warns, fear creeping into his voice.

“Not me. Him,” Peter says, nodding towards Edmund, who draws his sword.

Peter hands his sword to Trumpkin,
but the dwarf fumbles,
dropping it in the sand. Edmund smirks, sensing the awkwardness.

Suddenly,
Trumpkin knocks Edmund's sword away and swings at him. Edmund ducks just in time, but Trumpkin manages to land a hit, causing Edmund to stumble back.

“Edmund!” Lucy yells, her concern palpable.

“Aww, you alright?” Trumpkin says mockingly, and August feels her heart race as she realizes how quickly the situation can spiral out of control.

She was more surprised on how such sort of dangerous fights could be conducted so casually.

They circle around, engaging in a clumsy but spirited fight.

Trumpkin slashes at Edmund’s feet,
but Edmund jumps, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Moments later, Trumpkin’s sword flies from his grip, and he falls back into the sand, staring in disbelief.

“Beards and bedsteads! Maybe that horn worked after all,” Trumpkin says, his eyes wide with astonishment.

“What horn?” Susan asks, curiosity piqued,
but August is too lost in her own thoughts to fully follow the conversation.

                                ~~~•~~~

The Pevensies and Trumpkin continue rowing down the Glasswater.
August glances around, taking in the surroundings.

Something feels ominous, and

she wonders if they are truly safe.

“They’re so still,” Lucy states, her voice heavy.

“They’re trees. What do you expect?” Trumpkin retorts, unamused, but August can sense the underlying tension in the air.

As they finally reach the shore and climb out of the boat, August stumbles as the long dress she’s wearing—Susan’s dress—trips her up. “Bloody hell!” she curses, catching herself just in time, though she wobbles dangerously.

“Careful there, August!” Peter calls, rushing over to steady her, a protective glint in his eyes.

“Thanks, Peter. This stupid dress is trying to kill me! I should've just worn Lucy's instead.” she exclaims, shaking her head as she adjusts the hem, her voice laced with a mix of annoyance and laughter.

Peter chuckles, his smile infectious. “You look great, but maybe grow a little or stick to pants next time?”

“Next time?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.

As Lucy starts to wander off, she spots a big, black bear.
“Hello there! ...It's alright, we're friends,” Lucy greets the bear, stepping forward.

August forrows her eyebrows and shakes her head in disbelief at the dumbness of the little girl.

“Don’t move, your majesty!” Trumpkin calls out, panic rising in his voice.

The bear charges at Lucy, and Susan quickly nocks an arrow to her string. “Stay away from her!” Susan yells, ready to shoot.

“Susan, shoot!” Edmund demands urgently, his voice tense, and August feels the rush of adrenaline.

The bear continues its charge, and Lucy screams, instinctively stepping back.

Just as it lunges at her, an arrow flies from Trumpkin’s crossbow, hitting the bear and dropping it to the ground.

“Why wouldn’t he stop?” Susan asks, surprised.

“I expect he was hungry,” Trumpkin replies, shrugging off the gravity of the situation.

They rush over to Lucy, and Peter helps her up, pointing his sword at the bear's still body.

“He was wild,” Edmund states, eyeing the creature.

“I don’t think he could talk at all,” Peter adds, his brow furrowed.

“Get treated like a dumb animal long enough, and that’s what you become,” Trumpkin says as he draws his knife,
his voice a mix of sadness and resignation. “You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember.”

August watches the exchange, feeling an ache in her heart. “Is there really no hope for the creatures here?” she asks loudly, her voice carrying the weight of her concern.

Peter turns to her, his expression softening. “There’s always hope, August. We just have to find it.”

“Hope doesn’t seem to be a popular thing around here,” she replies, her tone teasing but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

She meets his gaze, a warm smile spreading across her face, grateful for his reassurance. “I hope you’re right. I can’t bear the thought of this place being so different from what I imagined.”

Lucy chimes in, “We’ll make it better together! Just like we did last time.” Her enthusiasm is infectious, and August feels a sense of belonging washing over her.

“Yeah, and if we run into any more bears, we’ll just let Trumpkin take care of it,” Edmund quips, earning a playful glare from the dwarf.

“I’d rather not be the bear bait, thank you very much!” Trumpkin shoots back, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Peter steps closer to August, nudging her gently with his shoulder. “Just stick by me, and we’ll take on whatever comes our way.”

August beams at him, her heart swelling with affection for her friends. “You got it, Your Highness! Just don’t let me trip over this longass dress again, and you'll have my lifelong loyalty!“

“Don't i already have that?“ Peter whispers in her ear.

August scoffs and rolls her eyes playfully,
“Absolutely not.“