Chapter 13

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"Sophia, get up."

Groaning softly, I try and manoeuvre my way out of the voices hold in order to continue sleeping. I never realised how tired I truly was until I closed my eyes last night. Now, I don't want that sensation to end. Despite this, the voice keeps calling and the hands keep pushing until I peel my opens and glare at the face staring down at me. Susan Pevensie does not look happy, in fact she looks rather annoyed at me.

"Good morning Sophia."

She huffs softly before disappearing from my sight, leaving me alone for a few seconds. I sigh softly and rub my eyes, trying to wake myself up considering I'm in the middle of a snowy forest with wolves and witch chasing after me. I yawn slightly before pushing myself up from the snow and toward Mrs Beaver, my furry friend eating what appears to be jam on bread. I mumble a soft good morning to her before making my own jam sandwich, sitting down on the snow beside her. As I munch on my food, and begin to wake myself up properly, I notice Lucy slowly making her way toward the empty fire with hair just as wild as the last time.

"Morning Soph."

I grin at the nickname, replying in a smiling manner before giving her a side hug - letting the serenity of the empty woodland give me peace. That is, until a loud snore echoes out through the clearing - myself jumping at the loud sound. I snap my head toward the general direction of the sound to see my brother sleeping soundly, with Peter not too far away. I roll my eyes, hearing Susan mutter about how she 'couldn't wake them up, it's so hard'. Sending her a small smirk, I slowly approach Andrew without hesitating - scooping up a small ounce of snow as I do. Hovering above him, I wink toward the girls before taking a deep breath.

"WAKE UP!"

I throw the scoop of snow onto my brother's face, his scream waking Peter up in the process. I watch in amusement as Andrew sits up straight, snow covering his face while staring at me in disbelief. I start laughing, my giggles mixing with those from the fire before a sudden snort from Peter sends us all over the edge - including Andrew. At least he's not angry with me, but I know he's going to get me back. As I make myself comfortable once again back beside Mrs Beaver, a silence envelops us all but it isn't awkward. It's actually peaceful and serine, a different pace to the events of yesterday. Suddenly, Mr Beaver approaches us all with a fish dangling from his hand - a small smile dancing on his face, as though proud with his achievement. He begins to cook it up, the smell much more appetising than simple jam on bread - despite the yummy flavour. It doesn't take long for the food to be devoured for Susan made sure it was edible, and before I realise it our group is back on our feet - heading in the direction of Aslan. The beavers walk at a much faster pace than I would've liked, but despite this I still admire the scenery. It's much different to around Mr Tumnus's home - rather open and spacious. The trees are smaller yet there are more of them, and less shrubs and bushes - yet the amount of snow has practically doubled. It's almost as if the angrier the White Witch gets, the more intense the winter becomes. As I smile at the small butterfly flying past, I realise that the beaver have lead us to a hill that overlooks most of Narnia. My feet hurt from the amount of walking, but it seems to disappear as I admire the sight. Suddenly, Mr Beaver points his paw toward the horizon.

"Aslan's camp is just over the frozen lake, near the stone table."

My eyes widen slowly, realising just how far we have yet to travel. Seems I'm not the only one, for I hear Peter mumble under his breath something along the lines of 'that's a long way off'  - Mrs Beaver also catching it. She chuckles at this, placing a paw on Peter's leg as she too small to reach his arm.

"It's the world dear. Did you expect it to be small?"

At her words, I notice Susan glaring at her brother - obviously still rather annoyed at the lack of logic this world has. As she shoves past us all to reach the beavers, I hear her mumble the word 'smaller' before following the beavers down the hill. I sigh, having a feeling this is going to be a long trip.

The Honest and The Brave // NarniaWhere stories live. Discover now