[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.

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[sai_delgado]

She'd woken in the night, before even false dawn, choking and gasping for air as she clawed her way out from fire-poisoned dreams.

(charyou tree - come, Reap - die ye faithless)

But oh, there's no peace to be found, not for her. Reaptide's too near, now, and the weary exhaustion of days that had dragged her down is now given to the dark blur of nightmare. She can smell the memory of smoke, and can almost feel her hair blazing to ash--

"Not real," Susan whispers, desperate as a child's plea against monsters in the dark. "Not real, nay, not now, not again--"

Nothing answers, and the shadows threaten to swallow her up, but she couldn't strike a candle-light now to save her life, say true. Susan dresses hastily in the dark, only barely remembering to wrap herself in the coat Caspian gave her before she quits the room, then the bar entire.

She'd thought to go down to the lakeside, that surely the icy waters would clear her head, but shies away at the shadow of the bonfire lying ready to be set alight.

Shivering, she turns away from the shore. She thinks perhaps the stables, but no - her fear and upset'll spark the same in her charges, oh aye, and she'll do what she can to spare them and those who care for her.

With a sob, Susan flees into the forest, and is soon lost in the darkness.

[the_seafarer]

None of the stablefolk he speaks to have seen Susan; nor have any of the patrons awake at this early hour. Reepicheep stoutly promises to seek her out and hurries away before Caspian can call him back, and a knock at her door gives no answer.

Fear, sour and sharp, spikes through him. If he'd been with her the night before –

But worrying about choices he didn't make does little enough to help him in the here and now. He returns to the bar, where he meets an exasperated Reepicheep. "Sire, I could glean nothing from the squirrels and chipmunks at the forest edge," the Mouse tells him, fully willing to throw himself onto his own sword for his failure. "None of the animals here speak, or even seem to understand me when I do."

"Peace, Reepicheep," Caspian counsels, though his stomach seizes with worry. "Thank you for trying."

[sai_delgado]

Cuthbert's yawning hugely when he walks out of the staff corridor and makes a beeline for the bar. He and Alain had been up far too late the night before, trying to set their plans for the days and nights ahead. Alanna's agreed to cover his leave if need be, and Susannah for security to call on her for aid should it be needed.

"Mistress Bar, you're a sight for sore eyes," he declares, as he reaches it and pats the glossy surface. "And if you'd be so kind as to--"

That's as far as he gets before a large mug of coffee appears, and 'Bert beams at the Bar. "Thankee-sai, lady."

[the_seafarer]

He'd sent Reepicheep off to scout around the far edges of the paddocks – perhaps Susan is looking at space for an expansion of the stable buildings, or considering shifting the fences. For himself, he'd gotten a hot cup of tea and forgotten to drink it, letting it slowly steam itself cool as he looks out the windows toward the back porch.

At the familiar voice, he jerks around. Cuthbert looks sleepy, but not concerned, which is perhaps a good sign. Caspian makes his way over to the bar and sets down his untouched cup of tea. "Good morning, Cuthbert," he says.

His air is pleasant enough, but there's something tight in his shoulders and at the corners of his eyes. "You haven't happened to see Susan yet, have you?"

[sai_delgado]

"Long days and pleasant nights," he offers in return, but oh, his gaze is keen and sharp on the other man's face. "I haven't, no. I'd have thought she'd be in the stables at this hour."

[the_seafarer]

"I was there early to turn out the horses and do morning chores."

Caspian's voice is still easy, but there's a buzz of forcibly held concern beneath it. "She hasn't been there at all, that I've seen. And she wasn't in her room when I went to check."

[sai_delgado]

Cuthbert's on his feet in an instant, coffee set aside and forgotten. "Not there, or didn't answer?"

[the_seafarer]

"Didn't answer," Caspian admits. "I don't have a key to her room, so I couldn't check inside."

[sai_delgado]

"She doesn't lock it," he informs Caspian. He's already turning on his heel and heading back toward the staff quarters. "Never has. Can't be convinced to. Alain and I keep an eye out, but--"

[the_seafarer]

He nods and keeps pace with the gunslinger as they head into the staff quarters. Perhaps he should have tried the handle, but...

Caspian draws to the side as they reach Susan's door, allowing Cuthbert to knock or open it as he wishes.

[sai_delgado]

Cuthbert raps sharply on the door with his knuckles. "Susan? It's 'Bert and Caspian. We're coming in," he warns, and opens the door without waiting for a response.

The room is empty. Joanie's pen is cleaned and stands unused and silent, as though the little elephant had never been there. Susan's bed, however, is untidy and unmade, and her closet stands ajar.

Beside the door, a pair of gloves has fallen unheeded to the floor beneath the winter scarf that hangs forgotten on its peg. Her coat is missing.

[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.