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"Ugh, five more minutes," I reply drowsily to the sound of my name being called.
"Imira! Imira wake up!" I hear Edmund's voice and come back from dreamland.
"What is it?!? What's going on?!?" I reach for the knife I keep under my bed and jump up stumbling a bit.
"Whoa! It's just me," Edmund informs me as he jumps back, effectively evading my blade.
"I'm so sorry Edmund!" I apologize to him, putting away the knife. "What is it?" I ask, composing myself.
He looks at me dead serious "It's Aslan. They say he's dead."
Shock and a loss of words is my immediate reaction to this unimaginable news. How can this be true? How can Aslan be dead? he's-he's Aslan!
I put on my shoes and follow him outside head towards his and Peter's tent, where the battle plans are laid out. The sun has barely risen, but already the entire army is awake and ready to move. Oreius has arrived as well and we merely exchange a brief look, words are pointless, before Peter exits the tent.
Hesitant, he turns to us: an anxious slightly sleepy blonde, an unpredictable brother, and a loyal general.
"She was right. He's gone," he announces sadly before resting his hands on the table as he examines the map. He looks overwhelmed. Of course he does, he is now in charge of leading us into battle against the Witch. The weight of Narnia rests on his shoulders now, with that sort of pressure, who wouldn't be overwhelmed?
I briefly wonder who is inside the tent or what was in it, but before I can appease my curiosity, Edmund's voice gets me back on track.
"Then you'll have to lead us," he declares.
Peter most certainly does not look like wants to lead us, in fact, he looks like he wants to go home, but regardless, Edmund continues. "Peter, there's an army out there. They're ready to follow you," he reminds his brother.
"I can't," Peter replies disheartened.
"Aslan believed you could," Edmund tries, but Peter looks away. "So do I," he adds softly.
Hearing about Aslan's trust in him might have not had the effect Edmund intended, but the trust his brother has just expressed does and Peter is renewed with confidence.
"The Witch's army is nearer, Sire. What are your orders?" Oreius asks now that it is evident Peter will not back down from the challenge that has been placed before him, and Peter starts to examine the battle plans.
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Since my army is still hours away, if not a day too late, Peter decides it is best to send word to them to meet us on the battlefield as soon as possible. I write the letter right away and hand it to a raven before going to hear about the plan.
"So, what do you think?" Peter asks me expectantly.
As far as I know "It's a good plan," I reply nodding.
The boys look at each other content with their strategy and then look back at me, proud of what they've done, although probably most of it was already thought of by Aslan and Oreius.
"So what happens next?" Edmund asks.
"Now, we put on our armour and go to war,"
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I finish with my armour and Kraneia pulls my hair back into an elaborate braid fit for battle. I've had some breakfast in the meantime, no time for a formal meal, but I continue eating while she does my hair. Once she's done I thank her and proceed to conceal my weapons in their appropriate place and finish my look with the typical warpaint Datramites wear to battle. I give myself one last look in the small looking glass before leaving the tent. With any luck, I'll make it back to this tent my dinner.
I find Peter and Edmund already in their armour speaking to some centaur ladies. Not wishing to interrupt, I wait for them to finish before approaching from behind them.
"Ready?" I ask them making them turn around once the centaur ladies have gone.
"Whoa, you look-" Peter starts saying, but he is interrupted by his brother.
"Brilliant! Scary, but brilliant," He exclaims excitedly. "I'm glad I'm not fighting you because if I were I'd be running away," Edmund says, getting a smile out of me.
"Well, that is the intention," I reply, taking a step closer.
"Have you eaten yet?" Peter asks me, changing the subject.
"Yes, I had some breakfast while I was changing. You?" I ask them.
"Us too," Edmund tells me.
We stand there briefly in awkward silence, unsure of what to say before the battle until the great horn is blown.
Peter exchanges a nervous look with his brother before turning to face me. "I think we better get going,"
