~By the Lion's Mane~ >A Narnian Fanfiction<

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, or any of the characters except Rose, who is my own creation (among a few other minor characters). I wish I owned Narnia, because then maybe I could build a vacation home there and visit, but alas, CS Lewis is the creator of that country and all major plotlines.

Chapter One:

"Get up girls, jump to it!" Ms. Hill shouted. I opened my tired eyes, glancing out the window. Like always, dawn was still an hour away, and there was only a faint smudge of grayish pink on the eastern horizon that then blended seamlessly into the navy of the sky. The stars were still visible towards the west, I could see, looking down the rows of beds to the other window. I pushed myself into a sitting position and rubbed my eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden disturbance and light. I yawned repeatedly, which kept making my grass-green eyes water.

I slid off of my small bed with a series of loud squeaks from the rusty frame, my bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor. I knelt down to pull out my dress from where it lay folded under the cot. The threadbare garment was one of my only two dresses, both plain and faded blue. I pulled off my thin night gown, taking care to fold it neatly, and then dressed for the day. The rest of the girls did the same as me, all of us moving in silence.

As I ran a brush through my thick red hair, I winced as it caught a snarl. When my tangled mass of hair was finally tamed, I headed down the narrow staircase, which also creaked loudly, to breakfast. There was one long table, and we all sat along it. There were about fifteen girls, me included, at the orphan's home. We worked in the day, in turn earning food and a bed. We weren't allowed to leave without permission, though sometimes we would be hired out to help in stores or on farms. So people rarely left, unless they didn't plan on coming back. Several girls had run away the year before, but we never knew what had become of them.

Eggs and bread were passed around the table, and there was little conversation. The eggs were only lukewarm and rubbery, and the toast was stale. But no one dared to ever complain. I chewed the small breakfast quietly, keeping my eyes lowered. I didn't want to catch the attention of anyone, especially Ms. Hill. That was the way I existed; quietly, trying my best not to be noticed. It was harder than you might have thought, since I was one of the clumsiest girls at the home, no matter how hard I tried. I had never been very coordinated.  

When we finished our meal, we each were assigned a job by Ms. Hill, who read them from a list. I kept my fingers crossed that mine would be an easy one, and indoors. Outside it was freezing cold and a thick blanket of snow lay on the ground.

Ms. Hill finished reading the list with a scowl, and ordered us off. We took our plates to the kitchen for the assigned girls to wash them, and then each headed to our jobs.

My job that fateful day was to wash the entire kitchen floor. Mud accumulated quickly in the winter when the ground was soggy from snow, and people tracked it in all day. I had to kneel with a scrub brush and a bucket of sudsy water, and scrub the floor until Ms. Hill saw fit.

The bitter old lady walked about the home, overseeing our progress. She wore glasses, and had very sharp, harsh features. She never smiled, but always wore a scowl of intense dislike of her surroundings, and a look of loathing for us. There was not an ounce of motherly warmth in her. Her voice was like ice, and she was quick to reprimand, even for the smallest of errors.

As I fetched the bucket of warm water and soap, I reflected as I often did. I seemed to enjoy making myself feel miserable. I hated life in the home. No one was friendly, and the older girls bullied the little ones. Everyone looked out for themselves, and never stood up for anyone else. I didn't have any friends, and no living relatives that I knew of.