COMPLETED | ❝ Some journeys take us far from home. Some adventures lead us to our destiny. ❞
━ in which a peculiar girl with gifted abilities and natural wit named ophelia wellington finds herself burning the entire world with a single spitefu...
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AS WE PART WITH the beauty that alit the lands into rays of warmth, now laid upon us was the blanket that veiled the brightness produced by the first light. It dimmed the ember of the once blaring sphere, replacing it with twilight then dusk which went illuminated by the shiver-giving celestial body. The cold has spread more as the solar went into slumber, making us await for the calidity that is to be possibly sought on the morrow.
“Isn't there anything we can do to help Tumnus?” Peter spoke from his chosen seat, curiously looking at the beaver who was standing before the miniscule table.
“They'll have taken him to the Witch's now,” Mr. Beaver replied, holding a cup of what seemed to be hot tea. The whole area, despite the size, had a homey feel to it. Obviously because of the candles. Definitely the candles. “And you know what they say. There's few that go through them gates that come out again.”
“Fish ‘n’ chips!” Mrs. Beaver chuckled nervously, glaring discreetly at the male. “But there is hope, dear. Lots of hope.”
Smacking her husband, the other beaver spat his drink. “Oh, yeah! There's a right bit more than hope.”
He moved nearer to the three sat siblings, making glances around to see if there were excess listening ears.
“Aslan is on the move.”
From my leant position on the wall, I released a loud gasp, moving to their huddled forms. “For real?!”
Lucy glanced at me curiously, her face scrunched up in surprise. “You know Aslan?”
“No,” I blinked boredly at her, morphing my face back to my unamused expression. “I just wanted to say that.”
“Who's Aslan?” Edmund stood from his seat on the stairs, silencing Peter from making a remark at me. The beavers shared a look, later letting out boisterous laughs.
“Who's Aslan?” Mr. Beaver guffawed in disbelief. I glanced at Edmund who stood beside me, my face saying words that didn't need to be spoke. And there goes my last chance of having at least one sane companion. “Oh, you cheeky little blighter— what?”
Rolling my eyes, I proceeded to take back my original spot, leaning once more on the wall by the door of the small hut. My eyes flickered momentarily to the opened spots of the structure, deducting that those walls wouldn't be strong enough to hold on if something forceful were to happen to it. I mean, the beaver himself admitted that it wasn't finished yet, a work under construction. Where I reclined however was what I stared at when I first entered this place, knowing that due to it being possibly built first, it had a stronger foundation than the others so it was safe to be putting my weight on.
