Daughter of Nowhere || A Narnia (Prince Caspian) Story

3: This Is the Reason

The sun had just risen when Prince Caspian followed Ina out of the cottage.

Caspian, he reminded himself. Just Caspian. In one night, he had lost his title, his home and those he considered family. The grief had hit him like a blow last night, when he sat alone near the fireplace to rest and keep warm. But Caspian will not think about that now.

He looked back at the cottage one last time. If he hadn't been searching for it, he would've missed the door, so well-camouflaged into the large tree trunk as it was. Beside it stood a small wooden shed, where Ina's steed rested. She murmured a quick goodbye to the horse, rare affection softening her features. Beyond her, Caspian saw the glint of a few blades—swords and daggers of all kinds hung on racks in the shed. He wondered how the Narnians had acquired them.

As they began their march deeper into what Ina called the Shuddering Woods, Caspian found himself drinking in the sights and sounds of the forest eagerly. Details that he hadn't noticed in the dark of night jumped out at him now—the skittering of lizards across tree barks, the constant drone of insects, the oddly pleasant smell of soil and rotting leaves. The woods seemed like a living, breathing being, and Caspian couldn't help but feel a sense of wrongness, as if he were trespassing on someone else's property. But when he looked over at Ina, he saw that she was completely at ease, no trace of fear clouding her features. Caspian was not surprised—she had spent most of her life here, after all.

"So, about that long story," he began, hoping to pry some answers out of Ina. She had been dodging his questions in favour of sleep last night; now she would have no excuse. "We have plenty of time now."

She glanced sidelong at him, smirking. Her bronze skin glistened in the light of high summer, and Caspian saw that her hair was beginning to curl wildly in the heat, loose strands sticking stubbornly out of her braid. He felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of his face, too. The forest canopy may provide some shelter, but it certainly didn't help with the heat.

"What would you like to know?" she asked.

The words rolled off his tongue quickly. "How did you come to live with the Narnians?"

"My father used to work as a blacksmith in Telmar. But then he became a drunk, lost his job, and couldn't pay for the house. When we got evicted..." She inhaled and bit her lip. "He left. I've never seen him since."

Caspian knew better than to ask about her mother. He, too, had lost both his parents. "Was there nowhere in Telmar for you to go?"

"Where else could I have gone?" There was a hint of bitterness in her voice. "I was eight, I couldn't get a job, and I didn't want to go to the orphanage," she said, matter-of-fact. "Thought I'd try my luck out here, since I had nothing left to lose."

A surge of pity for young Ina rose in his heart. "Were you not afraid? I mean, you were only eight."

She flashed a crooked grin at him. "Were you?"

"Well, not really. But that was different. You were there."

Ina raised her eyebrows consideringly. "So I was."

Caspian continued his prodding, his curiosity unsatiated. "How did the Narnians react to you?"

"Well, there were a lot of discussions, many of which I was not invited to. Long story short, Trufflehunter agreed to take care of me, but the Narnians decided that I should leave when I turn sixteen," she shrugged.

"Which is...?

"Next year."

"Ah. So that's why you need the gold."