[au] Narnia and the North

[the_seafarer]

There's a chill bite to the air, these days. The horses have been growing out their winter coats, and they look shaggy and plump as Caspian turns them out into the paddocks. Behind the stables, in the makeshift woodshop he'd cobbled together, the sleigh from his drawings is starting to come together. 

He hopes he'll have it finished by Christmas. With a little luck, and maybe some assistance, he thinks it should be possible. The tack, he's largely left up to Susan's devices, though he'd commission Gimli the dwarf for the various buckles and other metal pieces they'll need.

Once the horses are turned out, he gets to his other morning chores with a will, whistling cheerfully as he does. The stable stays strangely quiet around him. It takes him the better part of an hour to realize the strangeness is because he's become accustomed to Susan's cheerful presence working alongside him, talking or humming or simply working in companionable silence. 

Caspian pauses in his task – refilling the grain chest – and looks around. Susan's nowhere to be seen, and when he later wanders through the stables, checking each stall and outside, he can't find her there, either.

Comments

[the_seafarer]

Caspian ignores the jolt that runs through him and instead goes to pick up the fallen gloves, lifting the scarf from the peg. With her winter coat, she should be warm enough, but he tucks the items into his own pockets, anyway, unsmiling and focused.

She isn't in her room, in the Bar, or at the stables. Nor does she seem to be in any of the usual places outside.

"Kiseki was still in his stall, this morning," he says. "I'll take him out into the woods. Reep is searching out by the far paddocks, if you want to join him."

[sai_delgado]

"I'll rouse Alain." Grim and intent, as is the quick, bitter curse he lets out. "We'd thought we'd have the day at least - surely she'd not have --"

[the_seafarer]

"I'm sure she's all right," Caspian says. He tucks the end of the trailing scarf into the pocket of his own coat and turns to clap Cuthbert on the shoulder, pressing an encouraging smile onto his face. "Let's not worry just yet, eh?"

All the same, the concern is clear in his eyes, and when Cuthbert peels off to wake Alain, Caspian's steps toward the stable are swift and determined. "Come along, old fellow," he murmurs to Kiseki as he leads the gelding from the pasture. "Let's go find your mistress, shall we?"

[sai_delgado]

Kiseki whickers entreatingly at Caspian and stretches his neck out toward him, whuffing in the direction of his hair. But he's well-trained, despite high spirits and whims, and stands easy to the mount.

[the_seafarer]

He mounts and turns the gelding towards the forest path he and Susan have ridden many times before. Where she is, he's not wholly certain, but he'll look in the few places he can. The rabbit warren, for one. The garden of the tree-women, for another.

[sai_delgado]

If asked, she'd not be able to say how long she stumbled through the woods. Susan had lost the intended path almost immediately and struggles on despite that, her only plan to keep moving for as long as she can. Branches and brush catch and tear violently at her hair and clothing; each shadow whispers cruel things and early-morning mists swirl around her like smoke in the darkness.

Eventually, as the sky above the trees begins to lighten, she pushes through another set of briar-studded brambles and emerges on a path. Susan looks helplessly back and forth along it. She doesn't recognize either direction, not really, but there's a fork off ahead on one side, and she supposes that's good enough. Susan starts toward it.

The right-hand fork leads along a narrow path she's sure she's never seen. There's a fallen log ahead, partially blocking the way, but not so much that she couldn't get by, and she sees a curve beyond which leads behind a stand of trees and deeper into the forest.

Uncertain, Susan starts in that direction, only for a light breeze to catch her hair as she takes the first step. She stops to shove it back from her face, and as she does the other fork catches her eye. There's something familiar about it, something comforting, and on the instant she changes direction. As she walks, she becomes more and more certain of the way, and soon enough she's running.

[the_seafarer]

Susan isn't with the rabbits, and she isn't on the paths, and Caspian's worry and strain is starting to translate through to Kiseki. The gelding snorts and prances, nervous, as Caspian considers where else to look.

The only other place he can think of is the garden of the tree-sisters, on the other side of the lake. He pats Kiseki's neck and urges the gelding into a loping canter, keeping a sharp eye on the path as he does for any branches or rocks which might appear.

[sai_delgado]

The swell of relief that washes over her when she bursts into the

(clearing at the end of the path - but nay, not yet, not yet)

tree-sisters' garden is almost overwhelming, but it's followed immediately by a crushing surge of horror and guilt.

She can't be here, not and bring this trouble down on them, she can't-- but she can't make herself go out once more, not yet.

Susan keeps to the very edge of the garden and circles it a little ways, trying to find a place she can be, if only for a while. But oh, her tear-blurred eyes make it hard to see, and she mistakes her step and loses her balance much as she'd lost her way before.

She hits the ground hard, knocking the breath out of her, and rolls down a small hill until she fetches up against a series of grassy tufts. Lost in the wildness of her desperation and the burden of her sorrow, Susan Delgado curls into the side of them and cries.

[the_seafarer]

He knows they're going the right way when a faint, sweet-smelling breeze drifts through the branches by his head – a breeze that smells like spring and almost sounds like a voice whispering in the fall-bared trees. He urges Kiseki to go a little faster, and the gelding complies, as anxious as his rider to find his mistress.

When they reach the edge of the garden, he thinks for a shocked, horrified moment that he must have been wrong after all, because he can't see her anywhere. Caspian dismounts and leaves Kiseki to graze in the spring-sweet grass, then ventures into the garden.

It's a few moments more before his attention is caught by the slowly waving arms of the birch-woman. She's moving sleepily, but there's determination in her beckoning branches. As he comes nearer, he sees a small form huddled near her roots and hears the birch-woman's gentle voice. There, there, little sapling. No need to water the ground so. You are not alone.

He stops a few paces away, the sound of Susan's sobs tearing at his heart, then comes close and sinks to his knees near her, his hands gentle on her shoulders. "Oh, Su."

[sai_delgado]

"Sorry - say sorry," she gasps. It's not right of her to upset the birch-woman so, and well she kens it, but she can't seem to stop.

And then she hears Caspian's worried voice, feels his hands on her shoulders, and a wail rises in her throat as she twists to look at him, her hands pressed to her mouth to try to stifle herself now, her eyes wide and wild and haunted.

[the_seafarer]

He takes in her flushed face and red eyes, the expression in them, like a fleeing animal, and his shoulders fall in an exhale. "Oh, my dear," he murmurs, unhappy. "Come here, Su."

His hands firm on her shoulders, gently coaxing her to curl into the circle of his arms, to cry on his shoulder instead on into the grass of the garden.

[sai_delgado]

She lets herself be drawn, fragile in a way she's tried so hard not to be, shuddering with the force it takes to try to get her tears under control. "I'm sorry, say sorry, I do," she whispers, helpless, her face turned into his shoulder and her breath warm. Susan lets herself cling to his shirt-front, just for a moment, and holds on tight, trying to tell herself this is real, not the other.

"I didn't want - I'd not meant - I'm sorry, Caspian, I'm so sorry--"

[the_seafarer]

"Hush," he murmurs, gentle but firm, and strokes his hand over her hair, along her back. "You've nothing to be sorry for, dear one. Nothing at all."

Relief swells, sharp and painful in his chest, along with a sympathetic sorrow. She's been dreading this for so long; he supposes it simply all came to a head.

[sai_delgado]

"I do," she insists. "I should have been stronger, I just - I'm so tired, Caspian, and it's all so awful, and I don't know how to make it stop." Her voice cracks in her throat and another sob threatens to take her. She bites her tongue until it bleeds, trying to prevent it.

[the_seafarer]

"My darling, you are terrifically strong," he promises. "You needn't try to hide the way you're feeling, or try not to feel it. I'm so sorry you've been shouldering this all alone."

He runs his hand again and again over her hair, her shoulder, her back, doing his best to soothe her. "If you're tired, let me help. Rest on me a while."

[sai_delgado]

"I don't know if thee can," she whispers. She's avoided even thinking about, or tried, the same way she'd tried to avoid being a burden to them all, but ka is cruel and it won't be denied.

"There's no--"

(peace)

"--we knew, all of us did, when we felt the ka-shume, do'ee ken? Before. And mayhap this is just part of it after, I never would have felt it, the first time--"

Since she'd been the one to die, breaking their ka-tet.

"--and if so then I'd best set myself to it and endure, but then fin de año, and now it's Reap, and --"

Susan shakes her head, reaching up with one hand to grab a fistful of her hair and pull on it, confirming its presence still.

"I keep feeling it. I've no idea why, but I do. I could smell the smoke and ash when I woke, Caspian, I couldn't stay for it."

[the_seafarer]

He draws her hair over her shoulder, letting it fall in a smooth wave so she can feel it, see it. "No," he murmurs. "I imagine you couldn't."

But there's nowhere else for her to go, is there? 'Bert and Alain can only open the door to the clearing, and Narnia –

A thought strikes him, flickering, and he frowns at it. "Would it help to go someplace else for a little while? Away from the Bar?"

[sai_delgado]

"Where is there to go?" She sighs and leans against him. "Nay, I'll -- I'll find a way, I will. Just a moment longer, and then I - then I can go back. Say sorry for worrying thee, I do, truly."

She breathes, in and out. "'Bert and Alain are planning something, I wot." Soft and weary. "They think they're being so canny about it, but they're not near as trig as they think they are. Mayhap it'll help."

[the_seafarer]

He only hums a noncommittal sound and gathers her close, letting her rest against him as she needs. "As long as you like," he promises. He has no wish to worry Alain and Cuthbert for long, but nor will he rush her to leave.

As for her comments on their plans, he only smiles a little. "Perhaps. Will you pretend to be surprised, when they spring it on you?"

[sai_delgado]

"Mayhap. It'll depend on what it is," she says, practically. Susan tips her head back against his shoulder and peers up and over at the birch-woman.

"Say sorry, lady-sai," she apologizes. "I didn't mean to bring my troubles to yer garden."

[the_seafarer]

The birch-woman curves gracefully low and brushes Susan's cheek and shoulder with her leaves. You are welcome here, sapling, she murmurs.

Caspian smiles, slight, and drops his mouth to the crown of her head. "When you're ready to go back," he says, soft, "I brought Kiseki."

[sai_delgado]

She holds still under the gentle touch of leaves and Caspian's kiss on her hair, and allows herself to be comforted a moment before renewed distress spikes sharply through her.

"Oh - and I left thee with all the chores this morning --"

[the_seafarer]

"And they were done," he comforts. "Not to worry, Su. It's not such a hard thing to do them myself. But we ought to go back before 'Bert and Alain really get worried."

Reepicheep, too. He half expects the loyal Mouse to have already rallied half the bar to a search for Susan.

[sai_delgado]

"I kennit, say true." Big Pat's daughter has always known not to shirk her duty, whatever form it took. Reluctantly, she sits up, out of the shelter of his arms, and starts to push herself to her feet.

[the_seafarer]

He begins to get up, meaning to help her to her feet, but pauses, horrified. "Su – "

Any exposed bit of skin is scratched and dirty; her clothes are studded with twigs and dried leaves. She looks as though the forest had swallowed her whole with no possibility of ever letting go.