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

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

I drifted in and out of consciousness for Aslan-knew- how-long. Faces swam in front of me, feeling my forehead, peering over me, faces pale and pinched. Fever, burning like fire and freezing like ice, and fiery, stabbing pain under my arm. Telling me to drink, then I'd be better. Everything was blurred and I couldn't make much sense of what they were saying to me. What did they want me to do? Who were they? And then back into the void of unconsciousness.

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Finally I came back awake for good, my vision and head clear. I woke with a start in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and pain. Immediately, people rushed to my side.

There was Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, Tumnus, several nymphs, and a few other Animals. Mrs. Beaver asked me, "How are you feeling dear? Has the fever broken?"

I blinked rapidly, pushing the sheets off of me. "How long has it been?" I asked hoarsely.

"Four days," Tumnus answered, and before I could open my mouth to ask the next question, he said, "We won."

I slumped back against my pillow, nodding in relief. I felt the bandage around my torso.

"My wound?" I whispered.

Shifty glances all around.

"It's fine now, dear. Don't you worry. It'll be healed up soon," Mrs. Beaver assured me, combing her fur, fidgeting.

I looked around the room, searching their faces for what they weren't telling me. Mrs. Beaver asked the all of the others except her husband and the faun to leave.

"What are you keeping from me?" I asked.

She glanced around nervously and picked at her fur. "You were wounded through the ribs, under your arm. There was a bit of internal damage and a lot of bleeding. You were fading fast, and we had to find some way to heal you." She paused, fussing even more at her fur. "And then Anduril stepped forward and, well, he offered his horn. You know the horns of unicorns can heal almost anything, very powerful, very valuable and prized, so..." she trailed off as I stared at her in horror.

I paled. "Andy gave his horn... for me?"

They nodded.

"But--" Tumnus interjected. "He's perfectly fine. It doesn't harm his health at all."

Mrs. Beaver agreed. "Now, dear, you musn't worry. You've got to get better as quick as possible! We'll get you some soup, and then you need to get some rest."

I had a meal, and then they left the room. I thought about what my ever-faithful unicorn had done for me. I cried. Because of the pain, because of the loss of my kings and queens, because of my new responsibility, and because of the dedication and love of Anduril, who was always there for me.

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When I slept, I dreamt of Aslan. The painting of the Great Lion on my wall came to life, and he spoke to me. When I woke again, I knew what I was going to do when I was better.

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It took me another week to heal enough to move about and bathe and go outside. I was still a bit weak and sore, but my wound had healed into a scar in the shape of a jagged cross, was puckered and white. I turned and looked over my shoulder to see it in the mirror, and tears pricked at my eyes. I was ashamed of myself for being so vain, but it was so ugly. No one would find me beautiful now.