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WALKING IN THE WIND
xix. THE CALL

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  PETER SHOWED NO SURPRISE when he found Hope sitting in the makeshift armory alone, leather breastplate still untied. His righteous sword, Rhindon, and shield rested in her lap as she shined and sharpened them for his upcoming duel with Miraz.

  Everyone assumed Hope liked the armory so much because it kept her busy. Truthfully, it was one of the few places left that put her at ease, that reminded her of her father. But she never articulated that. Instead, she lifted Rhindon in the cavern's dim light, marveling at it one last time before sliding it into its sheath.

  Without meeting his eyes, she greeted, "Shouldn't you be in your armor?"

  "I could say the same to you." Peter gestured for her to stand. She obeyed, and he began to tighten the ties of her breastplate. "I just spoke with Lucy. I think she's the only one of us who's ever ready for anything."

  "That sounds like her. What about you?"

  "I suppose nothing can ever truly prepare one for a duel to the death, no matter how many you've survived." Despite the firm line of his lips, Peter was gentle as he tugged on her laces. "It certainly makes you think more about what the future holds. Or... what you want the future to hold."

  Once he was finished, Hope tried not to watch him as he stepped aside. Everyone else did enough of that for her. Still, it was difficult. The boy was becoming that Magnificent King of the Northern Skies anew. "When you think of your future, do you see Narnia or London?"

  She pivoted to help fasten his armor in return. At his back, she stood on her toes. She was reminded of all those times she sent her father off to battle—and she remembered the last time she saw him off, never to see him again. Today, she fussed with every buckle and hook for Peter at least thrice. For comfort.

  "Hm... I don't think I've ever been asked that before," Peter admitted. "I love Narnia more than any place I've ever known... more than any place I'll ever know. But I've lived a life here once before, and I've come to realize I have plans I'd like to see actualized. Plans I can only achieve in London as a boy, not a king. I hope to study medicine."

  Hope smiled. "A king in one land, a doctor in another. You certainly live up to your namesake."

  "What about you? London or Narnia?"

  "Mm... Wherever the stars take me, I suppose. I always thought I'd grow old in a castle with Odette. Now I think... I don't know," she said. "I'm too worried that everything will change the second I set my heart on something, or... once I finally get settled somewhere."

  "You don't like change?"

  "Who does?"

  "Sometimes, change is healthy... necessary," Peter said. "It challenges our spirits, what we know about ourselves and our world—or worlds. If we never change, how can we expect to grow?"

  "And that's why you've grown back into your younger self, right?" Hope joked. Peter allowed himself to hum. The air was much too grim to laugh. "I don't know where my future will be—or if I even have a say in the matter because, let's face it, I've never had the privilege of choice. But I could be satisfied by a future with stories... a garden... and all of my favorite people in arm's reach. That's what I want."

  "That's a lovely vision," Peter said. "Well, wherever our futures take us, I expect you to remain in ours."

  "As long as none of us dies or falls into a wardrobe, that sounds like a plan." She passed over his helmet, to which he thanked her. "The best advice my father ever gave me was to create your opening. That's how I bested you during our duel. It's not about predicting your opponent's moves. It's about forcing their hand."

  With a fond smile, Peter ruffled her hair in gratitude. "Lucy really looks up to you, you know. Take care of her for us."

  "I have a feeling it's going to be the other way around."

  They shared one last smile, and Edmund slipped into the room. Caspian had prepared his horse for the girls, and it was time to leave. Edmund allowed his brother to take the armory for himself—one last chance to collect his thoughts—and swept his wife into the corridor.

  "Nervous?" Edmund asked.

  It was easier to suppress her nerves with her hair tied back. Hope kept fighting the urge to take it down and toy with the ends until they split. "How difficult could it be? Magical lion in the woods? Piece of cake."

  This time, more knowingly, he said, "You're nervous."

  "Very. What if Aslan thinks I'm weird?"

  Edmund stopped in his tracks. He grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to face him. With an adoring smile that felt very unusual to wear at a time like this, he tilted his head. "You're about to hunt down your lifelong hero, who hasn't been seen for centuries, who you've never even met," he said, "and you're worried he'll think you're weird?"

  "You're making me think he's actually going to find me strange."

  "You are strange, dove."

  She tilted her chin up, touching their noses together. "I've been waiting to meet Aslan my entire life. It's only a matter of time now. Besides, I have a few questions for him about what in the realms is going on with my life. I don't know if I'm allowed to file a complaint, but I just might at this rate."

  He shook his head, but before he could respond, Odette's voice echoed through the How. "There you are!"

  The princess came bustling toward them, dressed similarly to Hope. For the last few days, she'd been practicing using crossbows, where they learned she had, surprisingly, incredible aim. Since the Narnian army's numbers were limited, Odette was begrudgingly joining the fight.

  Odette pulled Hope from Edmund's grasp, dragging her along. "I was worried you'd already left! Do I look alright? I couldn't decide what sort of braid suits war best—"

  "You know, this is the part where you say, Please don't die on me, Hope. I'll miss you and your tea very much," Hope mocked. "How can you be concerned about your hair at a time like this?"

  "Easily, I'll have you know. If I'm going to die fighting a war, then I'm going to look pretty while doing it!" Odette said. "Now, if— sorry, we're being optimistic now. When you meet that Aslan fellow, are you supposed to curtsey? Because I've been debating the logistics on my own for far too long, and I can't stand to think about it alone any longer. I'm not even sure at this point. He's a lion, after all—"

  Edmund just trailed after them, grateful for this fleeting quiet amusement he was feeling. There was much at stake. Narnia was never at war as often as Wysteria was, so he supposed their nonchalance sprouted from that experience.

  For a moment, he was transported back in time. Even when everything had changed, those two were exactly as he remembered them: ricocheting nonsensical ideas off one another, attached at the hip. A time before he lost them both.

  Susan was waiting with her sister and Caspian, donning the same expression as her brothers. She was the only one out of the Pevensies who always seemed older than she was despite looking so young, with those motherly worry lines between her brows. The Pevensies buried their anxiety in their composures, hidden in plain sight.

  "Odette," Susan said. It was only for a blink, but her face relaxed before returning to its prior tense state. There was plenty left to do before the duel. "I was just about to seek you. Come, we need to have you armed sooner rather than later." She nodded to her little sister, then Hope. Odette kissed Hope's cheek before letting the Gentle Queen whisk her off.

  "I should be getting back to Pete," Edmund mentioned. "You alright, Lu?" The youngest simply nodded as she fixed her cloak, taking after Susan's fussy habits. He took Hope's hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "Fly back to us, alright, dove?"

  Hope nodded, letting her courage finally find her. This was her chance. To prove herself to the Narnians, the Pevensies, and even the Telmarines. To make her father proud. To finally face Aslan.

  "It's a promise." She leaned up to kiss his cheek, pausing when he didn't return the favor. "Don't I get one? For good luck?"

  Edmund's mouth ghosted her hand, hiding that irritating smirk she adored so much. (And it might've been the only thing he knew would keep her calm). "Bring Aslan back, dove, and we'll see," he said.

  That last thread of worry withered away as Hope scoffed at him. "Very well, Pevensie. We won't disappoint."

  Edmund left, and the girls climbed onto Destrier's back. The dark horse was tame and loyal without question, though he did not speak like the horses Hope had grown fond of. To this day, Edmund's horse, Phillip, was her favorite.

  "Destrier has always served me well," Caspian said, passing the reins to Hope. "You are in good hands."

  With a giggle, Lucy pressed herself against Hope. "Or hooves."

  Caspian smiled. "Ready?"

  Hope's fingers brushed through Destrier's mane, allowing the horse to familiarize itself with her warmth. "I don't suppose you have a lion-seeking compass we could borrow, do you?"

  "I'm afraid I'm all out," Caspian gently said. "May your faith be your guiding star."

  And the girls were off. All that could be heard over Destrier's receding gallops was Lucy snickering in a voice that imitated her brother, "Fly back to us, dove," followed by Hope's, "Oh shush!"

○ ○ ○

  They bore no destination in mind as the handmaid and the Valiant wove between the lifeless trees. Glimmers of gold speckled the forest floor, lighting the way during that dark hour. Destrier kept a steady pace, turning and leaping wherever the girls deemed fit. Faith was not recognized to be as reliable as a map or compass, but with the wind bursting against their faces, Hope sensed they were going the right way.

  Lucy's quiet commands of This way and That way were all that kept Hope grounded. Her mind kept wandering against her will. To this day, she did not know if Aslan was listening to her—or if he ever had, but still, she prayed with everything in her being that Peter was okay.

  She had never seen Peter at war until recently, but she'd heard the stories. She knew he could hold his own against the usurper, but that was assuming Miraz fought fairly.

  Lucy gasped. "They've spotted us!"

  To their left, Hope heard them. When the trees broke, just over the hill, Telmarines were pursuing them on horseback. Hope swore. How could they have been seen leaving? With all eyes on Peter and Miraz, surely—

  Lucy squealed as an arrow whizzed past them. "Hope!"

  Gripping Destrier's reins, Hope's only priority became securing Lucy's safety. First, to put some distance between them and the Telmarines. "Alright, Destrier," Hope muttered. "Let's see how fast you can run."

  With a flick of his reins, Destrier's pace hastened, and so did the Telmarines' without a moment to spare. Again and again, Hope flicked his reins—until she was certain they might tumble off the horse's back. Lucy's iron grip nearly suffocated her, but Hope had formed a plan. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

  Suddenly, Hope jerked Destrier's reins. The horse slowed to a stop. She kicked over his back, landing on the dirt with a stumble. "Take the reins," Hope commanded.

  "What are you doing!?" Lucy cried.

  "There's only so much distance I can place between you and them while they're on horseback. I intend to distract them for as long as I can."

  "But—!" Lucy's knuckles blanched around the reins. "I-I can't do this alone—!"

  "Of course you can," Hope said impatiently. "I told you, there are better ways to win wars than swinging swords. I came along as your one-man army. Let me do my job, my Queen, while you save us all by finding Aslan yourself."

  She didn't let the girl argue further. She smacked Destrier's end, and the horse raced off with the same urgency as before. Hope refused to watch them, not wanting to see the fright on little Lucy's face in her mind's eye for the duration of whatever came next. Surely, this was the right choice. It didn't matter if Hope never escaped that forest. She could rest easily knowing she'd bought Lucy more time.

  The wind came to a hush.

  In the dead forest, all was amplified louder than it should've been. Shafts of sunlight only darkened the shadows. In another life, the leaves would've shivered. The grass would've warned her that her enemies were near. But here, only her breaths gave vitality to the air as Hope stood alone, waiting.

  Then came the horses' gallops.

  Hope took off with a bolt.

  She knew they'd see her, with her brilliant red hair acting as their torch. She ducked under low branches, threw herself over logs. The ends of her dress tore, picking up dirt along the way. Missed arrows whistled past her head. She was unlucky, for she couldn't outrun their horses. But she was lucky, too, for their arm was worse on horseback. Luck was her only shield as she ran. She tripped and stumbled, but she didn't stop.

  Hope gasped. Fire tore through her bicep as an arrow split her open. Then came another, this one skidding against her cheek. The distance between her and them was narrowing. She'd exhausted most of her energy from sprinting, but it was only to throw the Telmarines off Lucy's trail. Now, it was time to stand her ground.

  As a girl, Odette loved horseback riding and took a certain fondness toward wild horses. So this wasn't the first time Hope did something as stupid as what she was about to do. But in her defense, Odette had taught her this trick, and it hadn't done her wrong yet.

  She pivoted on her heel, muttered one last curse, then drew her sword and charged at the Telmarines.

  Five.

  Five Telmarines were chasing her. That number only shriveled her confidence, but she didn't stop as she screamed as loud as she could, heading straight for the first horse.

  Historically, and evidently, horses were not used to this. These horses were taught to chase, whether it was other animals or, in this case, humans. Humans, as Odette once explained, did not tend to chase horses on foot, however. Humans, as Odette had accentuated, were perceived as predators. And so long as they made themselves big and loud, the horses would respond as prey.

  And, as Peter Pevensie once told her, sometimes, you must dangle your feet in the water to attract the damn sharks.

  Arms flailing, screaming, Hope braced herself. She was too low for the arrows to snag her now, but if the horse retaliated, she would need to dive. Still, she didn't let herself shrink as she came closer.

  Suddenly, the horse screeched, rearing onto its back legs and throwing its rider off. The Telmarine yelped as his back slammed against the ground. Hope dove to the side, dodging the hysterical horse as it turned to escape. This created a cascade of frightened horses, which led to equally as frightened riders. The second Telmarine nocked an arrow in his crossbow, but his horse bucked back. The arrow flew directly into the third Telmarine, killing him.

  Four remained.

  The first Telmarine collected himself at the same time as Hope. He reached for his sword, but Hope was smaller, and therefore quicker than the soldier in heavy armor. When her blade met his ribcage, he collapsed. He didn't move again.

  Three left.

  The fifth Telmarine retaliated quickly. His sword was only an inch from striking her down when she turned. Hastily, she parried, the wound on her arm stretching farther open. He kicked at her, and she fell onto her back. He came closer to bring his foot down on her head. She rolled to the side, where another arrow just barely missed her face. Hope yanked the arrow from the dirt, stumbled onto her feet, and flung it into the fifth soldier's neck. He fell with a garbled cry.

  Two.

  The second and fourth Telmarines abandoned their horses, which fled with the others, and bombarded her on foot. They were taller, stronger, more experienced. She was exhausted, bleeding, and hating her life at the moment. But she was a damned fool above everything else. So she met them halfway.

  The first one parried her sword, taking advantage of the shortened distance to grab her braid. With a cry, her weapon slipped away. He forced her onto her knees. In a flurry of frustration, she decided to bring him to her level and slam a nearby rock between his legs.

  He released her, but the other came at her next. Hope rolled across the grass, keeping herself on her back as she blocked his blade. She kicked her foot at his chest, shoving him back, giving her enough time to stand again. When their blades connected again, she forced them to move in a circle with a loud shing!

  She swung again, and he met her with a greater amount of force. He propelled her away, then sliced again. Hope ducked and used her last ounce of energy to shove him as hard as she could—directly into the readied blade of the only other Telmarine that remained.

  One.

  Hope was running low on stamina, gall, and ideas. Her muscles burned. Her lacerations stung. Sweat and blood stained her scalp. Breathing hurt her muddy chest. But at that moment, all she could think was if she didn't stop this soldier, he would get to Lucy.

  But she was slowing down, getting sloppier with every swing.

  One last Telmarine to conquer, but she couldn't do it.

  It didn't matter how long she'd trained with her father or Wysteria's Royal Guard or Peter or Edmund. The human body was only so strong, the spirit only so resilient. When the Telmarine plowed her to the ground again, she couldn't bring herself to rise.

  The final Telmarine came closer, panting. Behind his mask, his beady eyes were restless, desperate to satisfy his king. He lifted his sword, its pointed end aimed at her chest. As he brought down his blade, Hope could only squeeze her eyes shut—

  A mighty roar resounded through the forest.

  A quake jolted beneath them. The soldier hesitated, his weapon still ready to claim its prize. But he did not move. He couldn't, for it was not the forest floor that was quivering. It was the trees.

  He gasped as the tree behind Hope shifted. Its trunk creaked, like bones cracking, and it lifted its roots out of the ground. Stretching out its branches for the first time in centuries, the tree swatted the soldier away. It grabbed his ankle before he could escape and swung him around again, smacking him again and again until the soldier's neck finally snapped.

  "What the...?" Hope muttered.

  All around her, the trees stretched. The leaves seemed to yawn in the breeze, rustling themselves awake. Hope's jaw fell open, amazed by the vigor wedged in their bark. Their roots elongated themselves, urging the rest of the greenery and flora around them to awaken, too. One awoke another, then another, then another as Narnia came back to life.

  The tree nearest to Hope extended a branch. She hesitated, but it did not maim her as it had the soldier. Instead, the tree reached past her, coiling around her sword to return it to her.

  She stood, gracelessly. "Th-Thanks..." Every muscle in her face seemed to oppose her smile, but she did it anyway. And as she reclaimed her weapon, the tree suddenly looped a branch around her, hoisting her onto it. She squealed, but the tree did not let her fall.

  In perfect harmony, the army of trees began to march toward Aslan's How, with Hope at the frontlines.

  Lucy, Hope could only think as she caught her breath. This must be her.

  The battle between armies had long since begun by the time Hope arrived. She spotted Miraz's dead body first. He lay face-down, a red-feathered arrow sunken into his back that Hope didn't believe Susan had shot, considering that was her brother's fight.

  At her peak in the sky, the soldiers were ants, but even she could see the Narnians were hilariously outnumbered. An ocean of silver was advancing on them mercilessly. Catapults lifted the winds with every boulder they chucked. The terrain was uneven. Aslan's How was demolished. A pit had swallowed the center of the battlefield, no doubt from the Narnians' trap. It was Hope and Edmund's idea to set up the trap, to destroy the stone pillars that held up their underground camp and drag the Telmarines into the earth.

  But it wasn't enough.

  The Telmarines were winning.

  Until now, at least.

  The trees around the How were awakening, too. They lifted their trunks, swatted their branches, and thrust their roots deep into the ground into the enemy lines, yanking the Telmarines into the earth. The fighting ceased only for that moment. Both the Telmarines and Narnians froze in what could've either been disbelief, astonishment, or sheer fear. But once both armies identified the girl leading the trees, the Narnians let out a cheer.

  "Goodness!" Hope greeted as her tree lowered her safely before Susan, Odette, and Edmund—who looked particularly awestruck by her return. Each was grimy with sweat, blood, and dirt. Though amazingly, Odette's braid hadn't moved an inch. "What did I miss?"

  "How...? You...?" Odette swung her crossbow in the air madly. "What took you so long!? If I had known you were bringing that, I would've fought with less fear for my life!"

  "The battle's not over yet," Edmund reminded. Susan nodded. Her quiver was running low on red-feathered arrows. Behind them, Peter was pulling Caspian out of a pit after a tree had saved his life. "Where's Lucy?"

  "We were separated," Hope revealed. "I think she made it through."

  Peter agreed as he joined them. "Lucy. This has to be her."

  Caspian swallowed hard, watching as the trees vanquished the catapults. The wood split loudly in their ears. The trees were not very fond of those machines, as it appeared. "You..." Caspian said. "The trees, they're with you?"

  Chest heaving, Edmund replied, like it was the most casual sight in the realms, "Of course, they are."

  Another crash reverberated as the next catapult collapsed. "I don't think I understand..." Caspian trailed off. "Hope did this?"

  Edmund didn't know how it was possible, with how weary he was, but he managed a proud grin. "Amazing, isn't she?"

  The Narnians seemed to hum with a renewed energy as they gathered together. Maybe they could win this, after all.

  Peter raised Rhindon to the northern skies. "FOR ASLAN!"

  And the Narnians charged back into battle.

  Even Hope's exhaustion slipped away, the liveliness of those around her reinvigorating her. As the Narnians scattered, Hope and Edmund couldn't separate for long even if they tried. Swords flashing in the sunlight, they fought with their backs together.

  The Just King armed himself with two blades, seeing no need for a shield. He was as skilled with swords as he was with words. No matter how much stronger his foe was, he was smarter, the better strategist in every lifetime. His judgment hadn't failed him in a long time.

  It was their greatest strength, how naturally their minds understood one another. Two became one. Edmund attracted the Telmarines toward him by simply existing without a shield for defense. Their foolishness was his lure. No matter which way he sliced them open, he sent them off to Hope for the final kill.

  Likewise, Hope was an alluring target, with how battered she was already, and the mere fact that she was a woman standing in a man's war. She contorted herself in ways their metal armor would never be able to match, disarming them before sending them off to Edmund to deliver the final blow.

  Not a soldier came for one without the other finishing them off.

  When Peter found them again, he couldn't help but ask over the fighting, "How exactly did you manage all of this on your own?"

  Hope pivoted, driving her sword into another soldier. "Telmarines spotted us! I gave Lucy a headstart and charged at their horses on foot!"

  "YOU, WHAT?" Edmund called. He kicked at another soldier. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?"

  Peter shrugged. "SOMETIMES, THE GREATEST OPPORTUNITIES COME FROM TAKING A RISK!"

  Hope agreed. "SOMETIMES, YOU MUST DANGLE YOUR FEET IN THE WATER IN ORDER TO ATTRACT THE BLOODY SHARKS!"

  Edmund's eyes were wide. "WHY WOULD WE WANT TO ATTRACT THE BLOODY SHARKS?!"

  All Princess Odette saw when she passed the three on horseback was Hope and Peter give Edmund a shared look that was either amused or sheepish—as if he'd said something smart that they were both just now realizing far too late.

  Never mind that, thought Odette. She, too, had a plan. She did not expect for war to become her so naturally, but it made sense, in hindsight. Her kingdom may have been poisoned by war, but that didn't mean she didn't learn a trick or two since then.

  In her pocket—and Odette was very aware of how insane this sounded, which was why she didn't tell anyone—was a pouch.

  And in this pouch—bear with her—was something that was not there before. Nor was it the day before, or the day before that.

  It was the oddest sensation. One moment, she was perched on the How's ridge with Susan and the other archers. The next, the How was demolished. And the next, Odette felt a rumble beneath her feet and a small weight in her pocket.

  And so, there was this pouch. And it just so happened to be a pouch full of dust. Pixie dust, as a matter of fact. It was the same pouch Edmund and Hope once gifted her on her birthday one thousand years ago.

  Odette decided not to question it for her own sanity. Surely, this was a sign that Aslan was back, right?

  She'd never gotten around to using the pixie dust in the past. But now that their lives were at stake, and the Narnians seemed to be winning, and the air whirled differently, and her best friend was the Queen of Trees now or something, maybe this was her opportunity to try something new, too!

  Odette wore her crossbow on her shoulder, keeping her legs grasped firmly around the horse she'd stolen from a Telmarine (to keep a long story short, Hope had taught her that trick many moons ago). With a pinch of dust in one hand and an arrow in the other, Odette blew gently. The arrow gleamed gold as it floated before her. Then, it took flight.

  The first soldier it zipped through had been inches away from harming Susan. It was only one arrow, but it did not stop when it pierced its first target. Then, it darted through another Telmarine, then another, then another, then another. With only a pinch of faith, blind trust, and pixie dust, the Telmarines dropped like bloodied dominoes.

  Slowly but surely, the silver masses were shrinking. It had taken everything the Narnians had—pixie dust and tree armies and everything in between—but the Narnians were finally winning.

  "We can defeat them if we draw them to the river!" one Telmarine shouted.

  Lord Sopespian lifted his sword. "TO BERUNA!"

  But the Narnians didn't let up. The chase continued past dirt and onto sand. The crystal waters were tame as the Telmarines headed for the bridge. They came to a screeching halt, however, which led the Narnians to stop running, too.

  At the other end of the bridge stood Lucy Pevensie, alone.

  With an innocent smile, Lucy drew her dagger, daring them to come closer. Silence descended across the armies. Even the Pevensies, Caspian, Hope, and Odette did not move as they watched the youngest, intrigued. Peter wore the faintest of smiles when he saw his little sister, and it only grew wider when a shadow appeared at her side.

  Aslan, the glorious lion himself, had returned to Narnia.

  Hope grabbed Odette. It's him. The thought rang ceaselessly, blaringly. It's him, it's him, it's him, it's him.

  Lord Sopespian hesitated. He, too, did not believe in the lion, but now that Aslan was here, there was no chance the Telmarines would win. Still, he commanded, "CHARGE!"

  The Telmarines hardly made it halfway across the bridge before Aslan bared his incisors and released another mighty roar. It brought the winds back to life this time. Beneath the bridge, bubbles and foam formed. A geyser suddenly blitzed out of the water. The foam and bubbles shifted to form a face, revealing a newly awakened river god. He broke free from his waters and lifted the Telmarines' bridge eagerly. The Telmarines tried to escape in the water, but the river god simply pulled them and their horses back in his tide.

  Soon enough, only Lord Sopespian remained on the bridge. He swung his sword wildly, desperately. It was no use. The river god brought the man into his mouth, crashing waves against the rest of the Telmarine soldiers, drowning their screams.

  This was it. They could no longer retaliate. Narnia was awake. Aslan had returned. The war was over.

  Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Caspian trudged through the fervent river water while the Narnians dealt with what remained of the Telmarines, gathering their weapons and picking out those who required first aid and those who didn't. The Wysterian girls were about to follow, entranced by the sight of the golden lion in the near distance, when a dwarf collapsed beside them.

  "Oh!" Hope rushed to the dwarf's side. "Ode, grab that log, would you?"

  Odette's crossbow sank into the damp sand in exchange for one of the broken logs that had composed the bridge. She settled it beneath the dwarf's head while Hope removed his helmet. "There you go, try to sit up," said the princess. "Focus on breathing."

  "I-I'm sorry," wheezed the dwarf. "I'm alright. I just need to catch my breath."

  "Don't apologize," Hope reassured. "It was a long battle, and you fought valiantly."

  The girls turned again. This time, nothing would stop them from meeting Aslan. At long last. Goodness, how many years had it been since they first heard of the majestic lion? Even in the distance, the sunlight illuminated his mane and fond amber eyes. The Pevensies and Caspian were kneeling before him. Hope was beginning to make out what Aslan was saying to them.

  "Rise, kings and queens of Narnia," said the lion, with Lucy clinging to his side. Peter, Susan, and Edmund stood, but not Caspian. "All of you."

  Caspian's head hung low. "I do not think I am ready."

  "It's for that very reason I know that you are," said Aslan.

  Before she could hear the rest, Odette became distracted next. This time, it was an injured satyr.

  The princess acted swiftly, tearing off a piece of her dress to fashion a bandage around his leg. "That should stop the bleeding for now. I know it isn't the most absorbent, but it is pretty, isn't it?"

  The satyr laughed weakly. "Thank you, Your Highness."

  And so, the girls began their pursuit again— Oh, but they should really take care of that injured centaur first! And that soldier. And that dwarf. And that tiger. And that giant. And that bear—

  Eventually, Hope and Odette became so distracted in stabilizing and comforting the Narnian army that they managed to forget Aslan was ever there in the first place. They tore the ends of their dresses and borrowed discarded armor to fashion bandages, slings, and wet rags to place on the wounded's foreheads. Wysteria may have been long gone, but its touch lingered in the girls, who had put back together many soldiers in their day.

  "If we could get them in the shade, that'd be nice," Hope mentioned. "The sun will only drain them further— Oh!" The trees stretched their branches over the lines of soldiers they were taking care of. "Thank you!"

  "This really isn't necessary," said a centaur. "Please, let us tend to your wounds."

  "Please, this isn't even my blood," Hope dismissed, which obviously wasn't true. Actually, now that her adrenaline was dipping, her entire body was beginning to ache. A lot.

  "It's dislocated," Odette was saying to a giant. "I can set it back in place, but you may loathe me after." The giant just chuckled in understanding and placed a split log in his mouth, letting it muffle his groans as she pieced him back together.

  They were so occupied with their commitments that they did not notice the Kings and Queens of Narnia were watching them now.

  Lucy squinted against the sunlight. "Do you think they've realized Aslan's here?"

  "They know. Or, at least, they did," said Susan. "I suppose they got... carried away."

  "As merciful rulers should," mentioned Aslan. "To place the needs of your people above your own desires is what tending to Narnia is all about. Humility, honor, unity. Witnessing it myself is what makes me so certain that I made the right choice."

  "Choice?" echoed Edmund.

  "A lifetime ago, I sent them to your world, where they lived on their own for a year," Aslan recounted. "It was my intention to teach them to live out their wishes, to learn their truest identities without the weight of others' expectations influencing them. And this, dearest ones, is who they are. I see in them what I see in all of you. Benevolence. Wisdom. Selflessness. Optimism." The lion stepped forward, urging the others to follow.

  Hope was in the middle of elevating a mouse's sprained ankle when she heard Odette gasp. She straightened herself out, wiping the bead of sweat from her face. And when she turned, she, too, gasped.

  "Aslan!" Hope burst, and that was all she could say, for it was all she could think. "Aslan, I... Aslan!"  Hastily, she and Odette kneeled, bowing their heads.

  The Pevensies chuckled.

  "Queens of Narnia," Aslan greeted. His voice was rich. Even in its vibration, the hairs on their arms stood. "I do hope you will forgive me for keeping you waiting for so long."

  Hope and Odette side-eyed each other. "Who's he talking to?" Odette whispered.

  "He said queen," Hope whispered back.

  "Right, so is that you or me?"

  "You're the heir to the throne!"

  "Right, and you're married to the throne."

  "I don't see how that changes the fact that—"

  Peter cleared his throat with a grin. "I do believe he said Queens of Narnia."

  The girls hesitated, but eventually, after a little more bickering, they managed to rise. White rimmed Hope's eyes as she gaped at the lion. She kept blinking, but he wasn't disappearing. "Is... Is this real?" she asked.

  Aslan's amber eyes bored into her own. "Let me ask you this, Hope. Has that fear ever truly deterred you in the past?"

  Hope nervously laughed. "You know my name?"

  When Aslan laughed, the river jumped again, misting them on that warm day. "I would be a poor friend if I didn't. I missed your fond prayers in your year abroad, but I am pleased to hear your voice anew." His gaze shifted to Odette. "As I am pleased to hear yours these days, too."

  Odette's face flushed. "It's our pleasure, Your... Majesty?"

  Aslan laughed again. "Yes, Odette. It certainly is, at long last. We have much to discuss, but we have plenty of time to do that. First..." He nodded to Lucy inquisitively. "Where is this dear little friend you've told me about?"

  Lucy perked up, rushing into the crowd to find Trumpkin. As she did, Edmund stepped aside. Now that his hands were free, he was able to cup Hope's face. "You alright?" he asked.

  "Edmund, it's him. He's here," Hope whispered. In her peripheral, Aslan followed after Lucy while Odette was wildly explaining something about an arrow and pixie dust to Peter, Caspian, and Susan. "It's him."

  "Yes, he knew your name," Edmund teased.

  "He did!" Hope squeaked. "He knew my name!"

  "And he called you his friend."

  "He called me his friend!"

  Edmund chuckled, lifting her chin. He couldn't help himself from squeezing her cheeks, as if she might pass out and disintegrate in his grasp. "I can't tell if you're delirious or in shock."

  "Maybe both." As their mouths inched closer, another mighty roar interrupted them. Hope jumped with a giddy laugh, pressing herself into Edmund's chest.

  When they looked, Trumpkin's head was bowed. Sheepishly, he kneeled before the majestic lion.

  Beaming, Lucy asked, "Do you see him now?"

○ ○ ○

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

The way I purposely didn't write so much from this battle and the chapter was still long af LOL. I hope you all enjoyed my little twists on the final battle! It was fun trying to come up with new ways to give Hope and Odette their moments without taking too much from the other characters. :)

Lowkey are we just gonna quietly ignore how much murder is in this movie.... LMAO LIKE OKAY DISNEY.... In fairness, I put my characters through worse but STILL!