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"Would you please slow down?"

"Would you walk faster?"

"Fallon, for Aslan's sake–"

The Huntress swivelled on her heal, facing a sweat-covered Felix with a sharp expression on her face. "We have to keep moving. The griffins need their rest too, Felix, and we need to find a decent place to train."

The blond blinked at her. "You do realize Caspian's probably waiting for us, right? You left the camp without so much as a letter."

Fallon rolled her eyes and turned back around, climbing over another moss covered rock as the warm sun made its way to her face, warming her skin.
She'd woken up at dawn that morning, though she wasn't fully sure she'd ever gone to sleep. When she left her bed only a few hours before, somehow managing to not wake Ayron, she'd thought it best to be alone for a while, enough to think about what she would do next, and find a place where she and Felix could start training again. It wasn't as though they'd ever stopped, but it had been a few hundred years since their last war. Then again, those kind of scars and memories never truly fade, and the two knew that all too well.
She noticed Felix following her the second she reached the edge of the woods, away from the clearing of the Stone Table. It had taken them a few days, but the Narnians were now all rounded up at the old tomb, and Fallon had been able to keep herself from slicing Caspian's throat open in her sleep. Felix, more than anyone, saw that as major progress.

"Fall," Felix called, but the brunette just kept walking.

"Fallon," he tried again. "Fallon!"

This time the Huntress turned around, sending a sharp look to the hand that had wrapped around her wrist before looking up at the blond.

"What?"

"I know what this is about."

Fallon felt the light breeze and the early morning air suddenly suffocating.

Felix's eyes softened as he looked over the girl's face, taking in her usual, stressed features.

"I know you feel it. I feel it, too," he started, "but we can't be sure it's them. Anyone could have walked into Narnia. Or it could've been a false alarm. We've already checked the ruins. If they were here, they would've been at Cair Paravel.
I know you're scared. Hell, I'm terrified. And that's ok, Fall. Maybe they're back. Maybe he's back. But you can't let your damaged self overcome your logical, true self."

Fallon's eyes were coated in glass, but she held Felix's chocolate gaze. She needed this. She knew she did.

The boy, noticing his friend's expression, gave her a soft smile.
"Bring back the Fallon that always kept a cool head. The one that, through anything, kept her head high. Hell, bring back the Fallon that smacked me over the head with the back of a spear that one time I tried taking one of her knives–" Fallon let out a small laugh at that. "–But most of all," Felix gripped her shoulders. "Bring back the Fallon that stumbled and fell and rose back up again. No matter what. You are a fighter, Fallon Hunter. Don't let anyone take that away from you."

The two stood there for a moment, the forest wrapping around them like a veil of silence.

Fallon was the first to speak. "I really hate some of your speeches sometimes, you know?"

Felix breathed out a laugh, Fallon following his lead as she dried her eyes.

"Yeah, well," he said, "you needed to hear it."

Fallon nodded and took a breath before turning back around, Felix followed right behind her, and not another word was exchanged.

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Flatline ⤞ Peter Pevensie [2]Where stories live. Discover now