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WALKING IN THE WIND
viii. SILENT WARS ARE JUST AS DEADLY

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  THERE WERE NO WORDS to describe how Hope felt when she was asked what Wysteria was.

  Silence suffocated her as Odette argued with Trumpkin over Wysteria being a legitimate kingdom. It was small, sure, but it certainly wasn't unknown, nor was it too far away from Narnia. But Trumpkin insisted that he'd never heard of Wysteria before in his life. The Pevensies had told Hope and Odette what became of Wysteria, that King David and Queen Lydia cut off all communications after the princess and her lady went missing. But did that mean Wysteria had fallen right under their noses? Or was this after the Pevensies left Narnia?

  Silence mocked her when Trumpkin explained that over 1,000 years had passed since the Pevensies left. It had been over 1,000 years since Odette and Hope last stood in Narnia. Even though only one year had passed in London, it'd been a millennium in Narnia. And during that millennium, Wysteria fell.

  Silence consumed her when Trumpkin revealed that in the Pevensies' absences, Narnia entered a dark age. Without their guidance, Narnia was left vulnerable, impotent. A few centuries ago, Telmarines found their way to Narnia, and upon deciding that magic and heinous "fairytale" creatures had no place in the world, a war broke out. The war didn't cease until the Telmarines overtook the land.

  Silence became her once Trumpkin revealed that despite not knowing of Odette or Wysteria, he did, however, know of Hope. That shocked her just as much as the thought that Wysteria no longer existed and Narnia had fallen. The worst part was that everyone knew of the shameful marriage that occurred between Narnia's beloved Just King and a common handmaid. (Yes, "shameful" was the word he used).

  Hope hadn't spoken a word since then. Neither had Odette or the Pevensies — not unless it was necessary. It was almost unbearable how loud the silence was.

  Everything continued to pile on each other: the fairies, the marriage, almost dying, King David's confrontation, almost dying again, ending up in London with erased memories, the dreams, Odette's lies, fighting with Odette, the taxi, almost dying again, returning to Narnia, her memories returning, reuniting with the Pevensies, discovering that more than a year had passed since they left Narnia, learning that it'd actually been 1,000 years since then, and discovering Narnia was torn apart by an unmerciful war led by the Telmarines. Although several years had passed, Hope felt like everything was happening within the same week of each other. She couldn't get a break. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak, she couldn't think. It was too much for her. All of this was too much for her.

  The group clumped together in the wooden boat they commandeered from the Telmarines, gliding down Glasswater River as far as they could go. They were heading toward where Trumpkin last saw Susan's horn, which was blown by someone named Caspian before the dwarf was taken by the Telmarines. That was as much as Hope cared to know about their journey. She supposed she should be paying attention, but she was too busy trying to process... well, everything.

  Drifting down Glasswater River was serene, though it did little to soothe Hope. The ocean in the distance became softer and softer. It was the only noise that could be heard among the group as they rowed down the river as far as they could go.

  It was painful reflecting on Wysteria and Narnia's brutal fates. Her mind wandered to her friends, the people she thought of as family. All of them were gone, and she never even got to say goodbye.

  She couldn't imagine how Odette or the Pevensies felt. These were their people, their kingdom, their homes. They raised these lands for years, only for everything to fall apart after they left completely against their wills. Hope wished there was something she could do to make it better, but how could she make things right for anyone when she didn't even know how to help herself?

  Speaking of the Pevensies, Edmund was staring at her.

  "You know, just because I'm not looking at you doesn't mean I can't feel you staring at me, right?" Hope asked, turning to face the boy sitting beside her. Since they were squeezed together, when she turned to him, they were closer than she was expecting. Their elbows and knees touched, and their noses were hardly a few inches away from each other.

  Edmund was studying her. That was something he noticed he did often for reasons he wouldn't say out loud unless he wanted to blush until next Christmas. However, this time, he was staring at her because he was merely concerned.

  His voice was no louder than a whisper. "Are you alright?"

  Hope narrowed her eyes at him. She hated how stone-faced he was. If he was bothered or frustrated, he rarely showed it. But surely, he was upset about Narnia. Furious, even. She knew he was because it was the only reasonable reaction to everything that was going on. He just found out his entire kingdom had fallen, and all of his friends from this world were dead, after all!

  "Are you?"

  "I asked first."

  Her eyes followed the clouds above them as Peter rowed the small vessel through the calm waters. "I've been better."

  Edmund didn't reply, only nodding in silent agreement. He was still processing everything, too. He was surprised Hope had anything to say in the first place because he certainly didn't. No words existed to describe the massive loss at their feet.

  Lucy gazed up at the trees, troubled. "They're so still."

  Trumpkin made a face as he followed her gaze. "They're trees. What'd you expect?"

  With a pained smile, Lucy reminisced, "They used to dance."

  Again, it was silent as everyone peered upon the trees. They were still, frozen in the heat of summer. Even the wind that passed between the branches couldn't shake them awake.

  "It wasn't long after you all left that the Telmarines invaded," Trumpkin recalled. "Those that survived retreated to the woods. And the trees... They retreated so deep into themselves that they haven't been heard from since."

  "I don't understand," Lucy said, forehead wrinkled. "How could Aslan have left this happen?"

  Hope perked up at the question. She'd been thinking the same thing since the treasure chamber.

  "Aslan?" repeated Trumpkin, scoffing. "Thought he abandoned us when you lot did."

  Peter faltered. His rowing halted for just a moment as he said, "We didn't mean to leave, you know."

  "Makes no difference now, does it?" Trumpkin grumbled.

  "Maybe," Hope admitted. She tried to ignore how all eyes fell on her. The last thing she needed was more attention, but she couldn't sit there and let Trumpkin guilt-trip the Pevensies unnecessarily. "But they're here now, aren't they?"

  Trumpkin stared at her, unimpressed. "I wouldn't expect much change to occur from something like that. Things have been this way for a long time."

  "Well, I would," she countered. "The White Witch was around for 100 years, and nothing changed until after they all showed up. Why shouldn't history repeat itself? The Telmarines don't even have magic."

  "And neither do we," Trumpkin complained.

  "Just because it's easier to not believe in something doesn't mean it's rotten," Hope said. "Just wait. Aslan will show up eventually, when the time is right, and everything will work itself out. I'm sure of it."

  Trumpkin hesitated. Then, he almost bitterly returned, "I can see where you get your name."

  Hope scoffed. "I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," she muttered. "I just don't see the point in making everyone feel worse than they already do."

  They continued to travel up the river, absent from conversation. Eventually, they arrived at the mouth of the gulf. They climbed out of the boat, and soon, Trumpkin, Hope, Susan, Peter, and Edmund pulled it ashore to tie it down.

  Odette stood aside with a faraway, blank stare. Her arms were folded over her stomach as if she was nauseated. Perhaps she was. After all, she'd lost everything, too. Her kingdom, her friends, even her parents. She'd come so close to saving her kingdom, and in the end, it wasn't enough. Her hope wasn't strong enough. Guilt had never eaten away at her like this before. Even standing there felt like a luxury she didn't deserve.

  Odette was brought back to reality when Lucy's shrill voice cut into her dark thoughts.

  "It's alright! We're friends!"

  The group collectively looked over to see Lucy gleefully skipping toward a large brown bear. It studied her with a predator's prowess, growling, baring its sharp teeth at her. Hope hesitated. Weren't animals supposed to be friendly in Narnia? If they were, this one wasn't.

  Trumpkin's eyes widened. "Don't move, Your Majesty!"

  But his warning was futile, for the bear charged at the Valiant. The young girl screamed and scampered backward in terror. The others froze, leaving Susan as the first to react. She withdrew an arrow and ordered, "STAY AWAY FROM HER!"

  But that was as much as Susan could do. Her weapon was ready, bow and arrow aimed with perfect precision. But nothing was happening. Susan couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to shoot at an animal she was so used to calling her friend.

  "Shoot, Susan, shoot!" Edmund shouted.

  Lucy tripped with a squeal, landing with a thud. Tears gushed down her round cheeks as she gawked at the ferocious bear. It towered over her, fiercely roaring in her face. Hope felt helpless watching the scene unravel. Waiting for Susan to shoot the bear was the longest moment of her life.

  Peter and Edmund scrambled to retrieve their swords from the boat, but by the time they arrived, an arrow was whizzing through the air. It speared into the bear's skull — a clean shot between its eyes. The bear tensed before it fell onto its side, dead. But that somehow wasn't the craziest part. The craziest part was that Susan wasn't the one to fire the arrow.

  It was Odette.

  Beside the boat, Odette was standing with a crossbow one of the Telmarine soldiers had left behind. She grimaced, not quite used to the weapon's recoil. It was the first time she'd ever held one. That was obvious. But her shot saved Lucy's life, so did that detail matter anyhow?

  Hope wouldn't let herself dwell on the thought for long, that all of her previous ramblings about her father's war strategies and tricks for wielding weapons actually stuck with Odette after all this time. Instead, she raced alongside the others toward Lucy.

  Odette frantically tossed the crossbow aside to join them. Meanwhile, Trumpkin followed in a casual stroll. The Valiant clambered to her feet, running into Peter's arms. She buried her face into his shirt, soaking it with her tears. Peter brushed her hair, kissing her forehead. Relief became the group. She was okay.

  Susan stuck her unused arrow back into her quiver, astounded. "Why wouldn't he stop?"

  Trumpkin was unnerved as he knelt beside the dead animal. "I suspect he was hungry."

  "He was wild," Edmund noted.

  Peter agreed, "I don't think he could talk at all."

  Hope turned to the princess, who looked just as shocked as the others over what just happened. But that didn't stop her from asking, "Since when do you know how to use a crossbow?"

  "I-I don't. It's just, no one was moving and the thingy was already loaded in the thing, so I just... I just shot it and hoped for the best," Odette stammered. "Guess I'm used to animals being wild instead of my friend." Hope nodded. That was a sentiment she could understand.

  Lucy clung to her oldest brother's side and glanced up at the princess. "Thank you," she faintly murmured.

  "Yes, thank you," repeated Susan, nodding gratefully.

  "O-Oh, that? That was nothing. No, uh, no problem," Odette assured. She seemed to stand a little taller though, despite the horror of the situation. It was her first kill, but she felt good about it. Useful. She'd done something on her own for once. "Was that bear like the trees?"

  "Somewhat. Get treated like a dumb animal long enough, that's what you become," Trumpkin explained. Odette had to refrain from mentioning that her parents had a similar philosophy when it came to her, though they weren't as successful. He withdrew his dagger. "You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember."

  Trumpkin had never heard a silence as unsettling as the one that heeded his warning. The Pevensies exchanged glances, their eyes telling a story with a language he didn't know. It made the hairs on his arms rise and his stomach clench. The dwarf turned away from them, beginning to skin the wild bear.

  Only seconds later, Edmund dropped to his knees beside the dwarf, withdrawing a blade of his own. Trumpkin shot him a glance, uncertain. But Edmund only shrugged and mildly said, "I'm a fair butcher."

  Trumpkin didn't argue. No one did.

  And they would remain silent for as long as they needed to, for every second of every minute that passed still wouldn't be enough to count all of the lives that'd been lost because of what they'd all done by simply leaving.

  Hope wished she would've known that things would end up this way. Perhaps she would've prepared more, or at least cherished the past more: the laughs, the bickering, the innocent gossip, the long days and nights, the adventures.

  Then again, maybe she was glad she wasn't aware of how dark the world could become. She would've obsessed over the future and forget to live in the moment. She would waste away, worrying and fretting that she wasn't appreciating life enough to the point where she'd miss it altogether. Perhaps she would prefer to live in ignorant bliss of what the future had in store for her, where a raging war stretched itself thin over the years.

  Oh, not the war between the Narnians and Telmarines. After all, we all have a war that must be fought, and sometimes, it's not as obvious as you might think.

  Sometimes, the battle that must be conquered is the one that's inside of us.