XIV

At first the companions were worried Hedegar was bluffing about the poison, but David remembered having heard somewhere before that hedgehogs were immune to snake poison in their world. And so, reluctantly, they accepted the hedgehog’s word. He was still in a lot of pain from the bite wounds to his stomach and paw. Susan got out her first aid kit and cleaned his wounds. The animals were particularly intrigued when she produced the self-adhesive miniature bandages we know as plasters (or band-aids), which she used to cover up his wounds.

Scaltard had been waiting patiently throughout the ordeal at the top of the ledge with only the guinea-pig for company. It didn’t make sense for him to climb back down again as it had been hard enough getting him up, but they didn’t want to try getting Hedegar up either, not until he felt better. Vixel insisted he shouldn’t be travelling any further that day anyway.

Eventually they agreed that Scaltard and the guinea-pig would go on ahead and explore the area - seeing how the terrain continued and whether they could find a longer, flatter route for them to follow. Although it would take longer, it seemed more prudent and although they were all eager to finish the quest as soon as possible, there was no real urgency.

Susan, David and Vixel spent the rest of the afternoon with Hedegar, resting. They found an area of low, unusually dense shrubs, just far enough from the river to avoid the chill that would come from it by night, where they set up camp. Only once Hedegar was comfortably settled in a makeshift bed of soft foliage (the hedgehog protested that they were fussing over him too much, but Vixel insisted he needed rest) did the reality of the scare they had had sink in for Susan.

She sat on a small flat-topped boulder, head in her hands, as she relived the afternoon’s trauma. David looked over at her, wondering whether to leave her alone with her thoughts or go over to comfort her. Eventually, he tentatively made his way over, asking her if she was okay.

Susan looked up as he spoke. “That could have been me,” she answered looking in the direction of where Hedegar lay dozing (clearly exhausted despite his protests). “Only it would have been much worse.” David nodded as he lowered himself onto the ground next to her.

“I faced numerous dangerous situations when I lived in Narnia,” Susan continued. “I was nearly killed by a wolf once - Peter saved my life that time, despite having never used a sword before. I’ve seen countless battles, even occasionally been forced to take part in them.” David looked at her somewhat wide-eyed as she spoke of her experiences with wolves and battle.

“But somehow,” she continued, “standing back there with the adder poised to strike seemed more terrifying than all that. Maybe because it’s been so long since I was in any real danger - but somehow this was different. Back then I always felt a kind of peace, as though I knew that even if the worst came, Aslan was in control and I’d be all right. This time the fear was more real - hopeless. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why do you think that is, Susan,” he asked. “What has changed?”

Susan wasn’t sure. Somehow, back then when she was younger, it had been easier to believe that everything would be all right.

“That first time, with the wolf, I think I felt brave because of the prophesy. My siblings and I were brought to Narnia to fill the four thrones in Cair Paravel, and I felt we wouldn’t have been brought if the prophesy wasn’t going to be fulfilled. But maybe I was just naïve. Later though, after seeing Aslan killed by the White Witch, and then returned to full life again, it was hard to fear death. Not when your leader was someone who held a power even greater than death.”

As David listened, he realised just how extreme Susan’s adventures in Narnia had been. She hadn’t just travelled and spent time in this other place. She had lived there, and experienced more than most people from their world could imagine. “You speak of this Aslan as if he’s more than just a ruler - the way you describe him is more like…a god.”

“Well he is,” answered Susan matter-of-factly, “He’s the God of Narnia. The God of all worlds. In our world he came to earth as a man; in Narnia he appears as a lion.”

She had been in no doubt as to Aslan’s identity after all the things she had seen him do. And she remembered too his words to her and Peter when he explained that they would not be returning to Narnia after their second visit. He explained how he needed them to live for him in their world as they had in Narnia. The world had experienced unspeakable horrors during the war, and there was need of men and women of faith to stand firm for him in those dark days, and to remind the world of hope in the aftermath, as people came to terms with all that had happened.

“But I failed him,” she continued. “When I first returned home, I tried to live as he would want me to. But as time went on…life went on, I slowly began to forget, and to doubt. Till I’d convinced myself he was just a lion - a kind of hero that formed part of the imaginary games we played.”

“But you remember him now, don’t you? You believe that he is real?”

“Oh, of course I do,” said Susan. “Since arriving in the Woods and seeing the guinea-pig, all my memories have returned. And I have no doubt about who he is. But I’ve fallen so far from the confidence I had before. I don’t know that he’d forgive me for abandoning him. And I don’t know if I’d want his forgiveness. After all that’s happened…after the train wreck…I’m not sure I like who he is and what he allows to happen. It almost seems…either he’s not as powerful as I thought, or he’s not as good.”

At first David didn’t reply. He understood that her pain was heavy and saw how she could feel such doubt and bitterness. “I can’t speak for God,” he answered carefully, “and I know it doesn’t look like it - I don’t even pretend to understand and excuse why he would let you suffer as you have - but I believe in my heart that he is good. If he isn’t - what point is there in living? I can’t say I have seen or experienced him tangibly - certainly not in the way you have - but I know what I believe. And that’s what I hold on to. That’s what kept me sane when I lost my mother - and through seeing my sister’s struggles. I think God is beyond our understanding. But I trust him. I have to.”

There was another silence for a while. At last Susan spoke up. “Do you know what frightened me the most, David?” She didn’t wait for a response. “The thing I feared the most back there, was watching Hedegar locked with that snake, and afterwards, seeing him lying there helpless and motionless. I haven’t known him long, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone else. Not another person…”

She broke off and David realised where this was coming from. She’d lost so many people in the train wreck - both family members and close family friends. He remembered how heightened he was to the fear of losing more people after his mother’s death, and could only imagine what it felt like for Susan multiplied sevenfold. He stood again, moving over to where she sat on the rock, and wrapped her in his embrace, allowing her to cry against his shoulder.

It was the second time that day he had hugged her. Unlike that evening at Margaret’s house or the day at the coach station, when he had felt that a direct embrace would be inappropriate given the circumstances, here it felt right. While he knew his feelings for her ran deeper, this was a hug of sympathy - the sharing of one human’s sorrow with another. It was what she needed. No more.

Susan’s body shuddered as she let out the pain and sorrow she’d been hiding the last few days. In the business and excitement of the quest she had been able to forget for a bit. But now was one of those times of remembering. And as she remembered, she had to cry.

This time was slightly different, however. It was the first time since the accident she really had someone sharing with, if not in, her grief. For the first time she didn’t feel completely alone. The physical touch of another human comforting her in her grief made it so much more bearable. Her uncontrolled sobs began to slow and her body relaxed. The unbearable pain had become a duller thrum.

*-*-*-*

Hedegar and Susan slept solidly throughout the night and woke late the next morning. David and Vixel had caught more fish from the river for supper and, following Susan’s instructions, David had made them some fish soup. They added to it some flowers that Vixel had collected which she knew had relaxation properties and would help them to sleep well. The soup, added to the stress of the day, helped them get some good rest.

The next day, Hedegar’s wounds still hurt him as did his muscles from the strain of the fight. Scaltard was still off exploring and they could do nothing but wait for him. While Hedegar continued to rest, the other campers did some exploring of their own, but never wandered too far from their campsite, especially since the fear of meeting another adder was still very real.

After lunch, Susan took a walk down to the river, where she sat and watched the current flow by. David was worried about her being on her own for too long, but also knew she wanted space to think. After a while, he headed down after her and found her seated on a flat rock, close enough to the water’s edge that from it, she could dangle her feet into the water. She had taken off her shoes to do just this, and sat, allowing the cool water to relieve both the heat of the day, and her deeper stress.

“I just came down to check on you,” said David, afraid of breaking her reverie but knowing it was rude not to announce his presence, “Do you mind if I join you?”

The girl nodded, as he made his way to where she sat and perched on the rock next to her. “Running water is always beautiful, is it not?” she asked after a moment’s silence.

Although the stream here was shallow, it was sufficient and provided a refreshing break to the country’s harsh dryness. “Its beauty seems all the more amplified here in contrast to the wilderness about us,” she continued. “In a way, it seems all the more valuable, and I appreciate it more because the land is so desolate. Is that not ironic?”

David smiled. He could feel the peacefulness of the stream quieting his own soul. All his life he had been drawn to water. He loved swimming and as a child found family trips to the sea his favourite time of year. Although, where the ocean pulled on his heartstrings with a sense of excitement and adventure, the water of this stream did just the opposite. It brought a sense of quietness and satisfaction.

“I wonder,” he said after a while, “if that’s not true in life as well. The things that bring us happiness and joy are all the more valuable when they come after a time of trouble. The things that refresh our souls are sweeter when we feel dry and without hope. There’s nothing like being brought down to our lowest, to make us appreciate the blessings we have. Extreme contrasts put things into perspective.”

“I know what you mean, David,” answered Susan. “When I first arrived, I felt that this land echoed my heart. It makes for a pretty good portrait of how I’m feeling.” She stopped, wondering again why it was so easy to be so honest with David. With most people, she was afraid of sharing exactly what was on her heart. But with him, trust came naturally. She somehow did not fear his judgement.

“Maybe that’s why I feel that this quest is so important, and why I feel like I need to see it through,” she continued. “Regardless, the adventure itself is a bit like this river. Simply having something else to put my mind on and help me forget my sorrows has given me hope - something to live for again. You know, this land was so much more before the loss of the breaknut trees. If we find the seed, we might be able to restore, if even just a glimmer, of what it was like before. It will make the task worth it.”

David nodded, following her metaphor. And, though he knew not how it could be accomplished, he hoped that Susan too might win back a glimmer of the fuller and happier life she had had before.

*-*-*-*

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