RUTH:

I didn't even wait for my tears to stop before I sprinted down to the line of canoes at the beach. I threw my bag containing my journal, the map, and a couple meager rations into the middle of the small boat and jumped in after them. I tightened my sweater around my shoulders and my beanie on my head, shivering in the Narnian wind. My tears felt as if they were turning to icicles. I clutched the oars with numb hands and set off across the water. As the gentle current swept me away, I glanced back over my shoulder, one last time.

"Just because your family's all dead doesn't mean mine can just die too!"

I swiped at my eyes and looked again to the shoreline ahead, remembering the bombs.

The first bomb dropped in the street.

They had just been running to the bomb shelter.

I was the last person out of the house.

I had grabbed a box of family pictures. To keep with us.

In an instant, in a single moment, that box was the only family I had left.

Before I knew it, I was wandering down Memory Lane.

I knew how to row because of my time spent with my grandmother and grandfather in the country. They had a pond in the middle of their pasture, and many summer days were spent rowing my siblings around, one at a time.

"Faster, faster!" Michael would screech, beside himself with glee. "Come on, Ruth, give it everything you've got! Yes! Yes, yes, yes, that's it! Faster! Faster!"

The twins preferred to go slowly, so they could drag their fingers along the surface of the water. Sometimes Michael would swim underneath, splashing the occupants of the boat, and sometimes he would propel us from behind, pushing us in circles, kicking wildly.

My family didn't deserve to be taken away. Not so soon. Not like that.

We were so happy. My parents never fought. Michael could annoy me sometimes, yes, like any younger brother should, but I still loved him. Abigail and Mary were so young. So vibrant. They had so much life ahead of them. They didn't deserve to die at the hands of evil brutality.

I realized with a jolt how fast I had been rowing. Fueled by my anger, I was almost to shore.

The last time I had been in a canoe, I had been dozing in the warm sun, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the boat and Peter's soft, out-of-tune whistling.

But now all of that was gone.

I had only tried to help, but I had made everything worse... I had been bossy and pushy and hurtful...

I slid onto shore with a grating crunch.

"Who goes there?" a voice boomed. A centaur burst through the trees, bow and arrow at the ready. He squinted at me. "Ruth?"

"Fireleaf?"

"What are you doing here? Where are the others?"

"Long story," I said with a sigh. I slung my bag over my shoulder as I climbed out of the canoe. I extracted the map Hesturi had drawn me. "But I know how to stop the dwarves' attacks. And I need help doing so."

🦁

"This all sounds so simple, but how will we ever do this? We are severely outnumbered, and our enemies have proven to be brutal and cunning."

I whirled around to face the shy voice as others murmured their shared dissent. The discussion among the members of the camp had begun at sunrise, after a fitful night of sleep, and it was now nearly noon.

"Anything is possible with Aslan!" I answered. "He will not let us lose."

"But we do not have Aslan this time. He has abandoned us!"

"No, no, no!" I cried. "Aslan has not abandoned us! He will come to our aid if we need him, just as he has before!"

"At what cost?" a giant growled. "When innocent blood has been shed and our enemies live on?"

"He appointed the kings and queens to power. It is our duty as subjects to defend their lives as the rightful rulers of Narnia, which have been endangered several times by our dwarfish foes."

"Where are they, then?"

I hesitated. "They will plug the end of the tunnel at Cair Paravel. It is not safe for them to come here."

"And you would willingly lead us to our deaths?"

Oreius stepped forward then. "Leave the girl alone!" he declared. "She is right. Aslan appointed the kings and queens to power. He will not let us fail in defense of their rule."

The crowd murmured again.

The giant that had challenged me stepped forward. "So what's the plan, Lady Ruth?"

I pulled out the map and studied it. "They are attacking us because they think we're weak. Remember our fallen brothers and sisters, slain in the middle of the day in plain sight, merely a couple yards away from this very spot in the heart of camp. They underestimate us. They doubt our strength." I looked up from the map, my gaze sweeping the creatures before me. "And I believe it is in our best interest to prove them wrong."

Everyone cheered. I beamed, and began to explain my plan.

🦁

The next two days were spent preparing for the attack at sunrise. Swords were sharpened, armor was repaired, bow strings were tightened, and messengers were sent out into every inch of Narnia, recruiting more soldiers. I personally scouted the site Hesturi had detailed as the entrance to the tunnel; surely enough, a legion of dwarves guarded it, though the hole itself was not even big enough for a human.

The night before the attack, I couldn't sleep.

I couldn't stop thinking of Hesturi. He had fought against his family - his entire family - in the battle just months before his capture. When he returned home, under the lie that he was held captive and forced to fight by Narnians, he caught wind of the dwarves' plans to murder the Pevensies. He went through the tunnel in the middle of the night - the night after I was attacked, actually - planning to tell someone of the tunnel and the plans of the enemy, but was captured and thrown into the dungeon by the Archenland soldiers without a second thought. Peter had been the first to take notice of him, and I was the first person he trusted.

He told me of his family. Of his father being brainwashed by the Witch when Hesturi was only a boy. Of how Hesturi always tried to protect his brother by telling him stories of Aslan. Of the way his father kicked him out of the home for believing that Aslan was more powerful than the White Witch.

My heart ached for him. I hoped he was alright.

I hoped Lucy was alright, too. I wished, for the thousandth time, that I had found a way to say goodbye to her. But it was too late. I wouldn't see her again until we were all back in England.

England. Getting up, I took my beanie off, tucked it into my bag with the journal and map, and stuffed it into a pillowcase. I wanted it to be safe when I returned from battle... when I was ready to leave Narnia forever. I crawled back into the hammock, and finally fell asleep.

When I heard the waking horn blow, I jumped up, donned my armor, strapped on my sword, and strode outside. I quickly saddled my horse, Evelonne, and guided her toward Oreius.

"Any word from Cair Paravel?" I asked.

He shook his head sadly. "We will have to fight without them this time."

I nodded numbly. "Apparently. I hope nothing harmful has befallen them."

"I am sure they are safe. We would have heard otherwise by now if they were not."

I nodded again. We stopped at the edge of camp, watching as our ragtag army staggered into formation, chattering nervously. Oreius turned toward me then.

"Will you lead your army?"

"My- my army?"

"Look around you." The sky was just beginning to lighten, making clear the shadowy figures before me. "In the absence of the kings and queens, these soldiers assembled for you."

"But what if I lead them to their deaths?" I asked softly. "What if this isn't what Aslan wanted after all?"

"You have done no wrong, Ruth. Everything you have done has been for the good of Narnia. And now, we march to battle."

I studied the army once more. I sat up a little straighter, patting Evelonne's mane.

"Are you ready?"

"Absolutely," she replied, tossing her head back.

I smiled to myself. I loved talking horses.

I looked to Oreius. "Are you ready?"

"To defend the land I love? Always."

"In that case... for Narnia!" I bellowed, turning rapidly and pushing Evelonne into a gallop through the forest.

"For Narnia!" my army cried, sprinting after me, following Oreius, who lagged behind me, according to plan.

I remembered the exact trail, weaving Evelonne between trees. I muttered directions in her ear, telling her to put on a burst of speed as we neared the village of dwarves.

"I come in the name of Aslan!" I shouted.

"Who're you?" a guardian of the tunnel sneered.

"My name is Ruth Byrne, and I am here to give you two choices: recognize the kings and queens as the true rulers of Narnia, or-"

"Never!" the guards all yelled in unison.

"So you have chosen war!"

They snickered among themselves.

"You, girl? Declare war, on us? Alright then, war you shall have, girly."

They all stepped forward, knives and axes extended.

"Charge!" I screamed, jumping off my horse and pulling my sword. From the forest behind me came an army of Narnians. I could not help but giggle as I watched their eyes widen in fear. It had worked!

My giggles soon faded, however. At the sound of battle, dwarves streamed out of their homes and out of the forest in unprecedented numbers, wielding any weapons they had, from axes and swords to knives and bows and arrows. All around us, the enemy pressed in.

I fought one at a time, but for every one I defeated, two took his place in reinforcements. Before I knew it, my offense had become defense. My attacks became dodges and deflections. I felt my hope fading.

Oh, Aslan, have I failed again...

Suddenly, I heard dwarves screaming and yelling. "Run! Run for your lives! We are lost!" they said. My opponents, once pressed up against me from every side, dropped their swords and scattered, save one.

"Cowards!" he cried, attacking me with a new fury. "The Queen reigns forever! FOR THE QUEEN!" He slashed at my legs, forcing me further back. I jumped, swinging at his neck, but my right ankle buckled under me. A sickening snap resounded as fire licked up my leg. I collapsed on the ground, screaming. I put my hands over my head, waiting for the fatal stab - but none came. I dared to look up. The dwarf was gone.

I was suddenly aware of clanging behind me. I turned to see that Hesturi had distracted him, fought him away from me.

"Hesturi?" I called weakly. He looked my way.

"Ruth!" he said. He held my gaze a second too long. His opponent, who had been mine just seconds before, plunged his sword into Hesturi's chest.

"NO!" I screamed, struggling to my feet. I snatched up my sword, thrown to the side when I had fallen, and took the enemy dwarf's head off in a clean swipe.

"Hesturi!" I wailed, collapsing at his side and lifting the mask of my helmet. "No, don't leave me, don't go."

He smiled. "I have finally broken free. That was my father."

I began to weep. "You did it, you did it," I said, cradling his head. I started to lift his shirt to examine the wound, but he weakly pushed it away.

"No, Ruth. It is too late."

"It can't be!"

He raised a hand to touch my face. "All I wanted was to be a good dwarf."

"And you are... the best... and you always will be..."

He beamed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I am?"

"Absolutely." I planted a kiss on his sweaty forehead. "Be at peace, bravest Hesturi."

With a final sigh, the light in his eyes was extinguished. I kissed his forehead again, and broke down sobbing.