Violet Hill

She ran almost blindly through the thick forest, her feet pounding heavily on the mossy floor as she gasped for the air her deprived lungs so desperately needed. Where she was going, she hadn't a clue. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there, fast. She needed to get as far away from this place as possible.

Adrenaline pumped through her body as tears of fear and loss flowed freely from her eyes. The sword she had strapped around her waist slapped against her thigh almost painfully as she bounded through the forest. She had lost the soldiers long ago, that she knew, but she couldn't keep herself from running—running as fast as her legs could carry her, as if she could merely outrun everything that had just happened. Dressed as a wretched Telmarine soldier, she was able to gain enough of a head start to escape the siege that had claimed countless lives.

Her foot caught on a tree root and she fell heavily on the ground, knocking what little air she had clear out of her lungs. Her muscles screamed in protest as she pushed herself slowly up on her elbows and knees. Leaning over, she gasped for air as sobs were wrenched from her chest. Finally, exhaustion and shock overtook her and she crumpled on the ground, black smoke filling the sky.

Even unconsciousness would not relieve her of the horrors that plagued her every thought.


The evening was peaceful and quiet, and she sat in a chair by the window repairing a dress she had torn while climbing a tree. The first thing she heard was horse hooves pounding on the ground outside. Followed by deep male voices shouting orders to one another.
Then the screams began.

She looked up from her work, her violet eyes scanning the scene outside the window. Men dressed in black armor rode atop horses, their swords flashing as they swung at innocent villagers—others began setting fire to the houses. Beginning to panic, she shot out of her chair, the dress she was sewing dropping to lie forgotten on the floor as she ducked behind one of the chairs in her living room.What is going on?

"Evelyn!" A voice screamed over the noise, and she whipped her head around frantically to find her grandmother, Farah rushing towards her.

"Grandmother, what is happening?" Evelyn demanded.

The elderly woman looked around in alarm, as the screams her the villagers grew louder and more hysteric. "It is the Telmarines."

Evelyn's eyes widened. The Calormene people of her village had lived peacefully in Narnia for generations, even with the Telmarine invasion. Why should they attack them now?

A rough shake of her shoulders brought her out of her thoughts. "Miraz has ordered his soldiers to annihilate all of the villages in Narnia that are not Telmarine," Farah said, though her tone revealed to Evelyn that this came as no surprise. "You have to get out of here now!"

Evelyn nodded quickly before looked at her strangely. "You meanwe have to get out of here." Her grandmother's expression grew grave, and something clicked in Evelyn's mind. "No!" She screamed. "I will not leave without you. Iwon't!"

Farah grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and looked her square in the face, her pale gray eyes seeming to bore into her very soul. "Listen to me, I am old. My life isover. But youmust live through this. Do you understand?"

Evelyn nodded her head feebly, trying unsuccessfully to swallow back her tears.I have to be strong, she repeated to herself. "I promise."

Farah nodded solemnly and hugged her granddaughter tightly, before quickly pulling away and holding her at arm's length. "Do you trust me?" She asked gravely.

Evelyn nodded. "Of course."

"Then stay over here," Her grandmother led Evelyn quickly to the middle of the room. "Just wait, and trust me." With that, she crept over to the corner of the room and hid in the shadows, producing a small silver knife from the folds of her dress.

Withing minutes, a soldier tore through the flap that was the door to their house. As he entered, Evelyn's eyes were drawn to the blazing fire that was consuming the village outside. She could feel the scorching heat on her face.

Seeing Evelyn, he started menacingly towards her. "Well, what have we here?" He said cruelly, and that was the last thing he would ever say. For at the moment, Evelyn's grandmother came up behind the soldier and viciously slit his throat, killing him before he could make a sound.

Evelyn stared wide eyed at the soldier bleeding on the floor, when Farah began stripping the man of his armor. "Put on his clothes," she commanded, and Evelyn nodded, quickly slipping off her dress to fumble with the ties of the breeches and armor with trembling hands until she had finally secured them. Lastly, the piled her long, dark hair into the Telmarine's helmet and jammed it onto her head.

Farah handed Evelyn the soldier's sword. "Remember everything I have taught you," she said as she placed the sword into her granddaughter's shaking hands. "And be strong."

Evelyn nodded once more, warm tears flooding down her face. Her grandmother gave her one last loving gaze, and then turned around and ran out of the door—towards that horde of soldiers that terrorized the village. Brandishing her knife, Farah cut down as many soldiers that she could get her hands on before they even realized what had happened. Others began to close in on her.

Finally, with a war cry that filled the air, Evelyn's grandmother raised her knife, glistening with blood above her head and brought it down towards her heart—

Before the blade made contact, Evelyn, who had bee rooted to the spot with terror, turned and sprinted out of the village and into the neighboring forest. She was positive she had been seen, but she kept running regardless, half blinded by her tears.

The soldiers pursued her, following close behind. But she was fast, and she knew it. Evelyn weaved through the trees and leapt over fallen logs, pushing for her legs to go faster as she willed herself to get lost in the darkness of the trees around her.

Pain shot through her right side and she let out a sharp cry as an arrow whizzed past her. Gritting her teeth and digging her fingernails into her palms, she continued on, her pace never faltering. Wetness soaked into her shirt, but the pain of the wound was numbed by the adrenaline that was pulsing through her. She bounded through the forest, not pausing to look back as the flames from the village and cries from its inhabitants rose into the night air.

Evelyn's eyes snapped open and she shot up, her violet eyes scanning her surroundings frantically. The screams of the previous night were still ringing in her ears, but they faded away as her senses returned to normal and soon she heard nothing but the silence of the dark forest. Her eyes moved to gaze through the tall trees. The sky had begun to brighten with the sunrise, and as the it rose the sun tinted the sky an ominous red.
Soon the sky shone with the blood that was spilled the previous night.

Evelyn allowed herself to flop onto her back, and as soon as she made contact with the ground pain so intense ran through her that her eyes rolled and she almost passed out again. Taking deep breaths, she slowly looked down at herself. The whole right side of her shirt was drenched with crimson blood. Taking one last deep breath, she lifted her shirt as her gaze fell upon the bleeding, jagged cut that ran just above her hip bone. She gently prodded it, hissing at the pain. It was deep, but not life threatening. And it hurt like hell.

Using the tip of her sword, she tore off a part of her tunic and wrapped it clumsily around herself as a makeshift bandage. Satisfied with her work, she slowly pushed herself onto her feet, swaying slightly before she gathered herself. Having brought no food or water, she started shakily into the woods.

She continued walking on, not paying attention to time and having no idea where she was going or how to get there. All she knew was that these murdering tyrants would pay. Lord Miraz, the Telmarine King would pay for the brutal murders of her village. I promised grandmother that I would live and be strong, she reminded herself, clenching her fists as she was filled with white hot anger. But I will not forget what they have done.

Evelyn's ears pricked slightly when she heard a twig quietly snap behind her, followed by the soft sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath.

Her eyes widened and she ducked instinctively, cursing herself for being so oblivious. A silver blade whistled through the air mere inches above her head. Evelyn sprang to her feet and drew her own sword, ignoring the stabbing pain in her side as she whorled around to face her opponent.

With a flash of blonde hair, he was on her again. He swung at her with such force that her arm shook with the shock, and she gritted her teeth with the strain it put on her wound.

Evelyn sparred with the man, matching his swings with blows of her own. Her grandmother had taught her that men will not play fair. Their strength and size is their advantage, but also their weakness. The man towered over her and he was strong, but Evelyn was quick on her feet, and her slight frame allowed her to dodge his attacks more than block them.

He swung at her again and she danced out of the way—with a twist of her body that pulled roughly on her wound. In the split second it took her to gasp in pain and blink, the man noticed her hesitation and swung at her twice more.

As she blocked his first blow, the force twisted her wrist oddly and her sword flew from her hand. Evelyn threw herself backwards to dodge his last swing, but his sharp sword slashed her cheek and knocked the helmet from her head, allowing her dark hair to tumble down her shoulders revealing her identity as a woman.

Great, Evelyn thought, her breath coming in short pants as she wiped the blood from her cheek and turned to look at her attacker, shaking her long hair out of her face with a flick of her head.

The first thing that she couldn't help but notice was the sword pointed at her chest, the metal glistening with the sunlight. No fear, she said to herself as she lifted her violet-eyed gaze to his. If he kills me, I amnot going down without a fight.

Her eyes locked onto his, and his bright blue orbs were filled with hate and rage. But as he looked at her face, his eyes widened and his expression changed from that of a furious hunter, to that of a confused child.

As Evelyn's defiant gaze roamed his face, she noticed that he wasn't a man at all. He was a boy. Maybe only a few years older than herself. He stood tall, his dirty blonde hair falling lightly into his eyes as they rapidly changed expression; from anger, to shock, to confusion, then back to shock. He didn't look like a Telmarine. His skin was pale, very unlike the caramel-colored skin of Telmarines and that of her own. His deep maroon tunic was trimmed with gold, and his brown breeches were tucked into knee high brown boots. His clothes didn't look Telmarine, but she had no idea whether he was friend of foe.

He blinked a couple of times, then slowly lowered his sword. Evelyn's guard didn't falter, neither did the hardness in her eyes as she held his gaze. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again before blinking several times more and trying again. "You're.... you're a girl."
His deep voice held an accent that was unknown to her.

Evelyn's eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms and responded boldly, "Yes. What of it?" Another lesson that her grandmother had taught her: men underestimating their opponents on account of gender was often a mistake that cost them their lives.

The boy looked at her curiously and held her gaze as he sheathed his sword. "I mean you no harm." He said, holding up his hands. "What is your name? You're not a Telmarine soldier are you?"

Evelyn involuntarily flinched at the word Telmarine, and she was positive that her eyes flashed with pain as the night's occurrences flooded into her mind. Roughly pushing them back, she held her head high. "I am not a Telmarine," she growled with much more menace than she had meant.

His eyes widened at her tone and he took a small, unsure step towards her. Evelyn tensed visibly. "It's alright," his deep voice reassured as he held up his hands once more, as if she was a wild animal that could strike at any moment. "If you're not a Telmarine soldier, you're a friend to us. My name is Peter Pevensie, High King of Narnia. And you have my word that I mean you no harm."

It took a moment for his words to process in Evelyn's mind, but as soon as they did, her eyes widen and her jaw dropped as her eyes looked over him. "But—" She started, but cut herself off before she could scream, but you're dead! Everyone knew of the golden age of Narnia, when the four Pevensie children ruled as Kings and Queens. But that was over a thousand years ago! Yet here before her stood High King Peter, not as an old corpse, but as a strong, handsome young man. And what of the Narnians? They were said to be extinct, but if High King Peter was alive, does that mean they are too? Her gaze grew cautious. He must be lying...

"What's your name?" Peter asked her again, taking another step towards her once he saw that she knew of him. "How did you get here?"

Still wondering whether or not to trust him, she answered slowly, "My name is Evelyn, Granddaughter of Farah. And..." She trailed off, looking down at her shoes and struggling to fight back the tears that were prickling her eyes.

Peter's expression softened and he took another step towards her so that he was now standing directly infront of her. "What is it?" He asked quietly, curious about what this girl was doing alone in the forest dressed as a Telmarine soldier.

Evelyn swallowed. Hard. "I... I am..." She shook her head, making her decision to trust him. "I am running away, that is all you need to know." She looked up at him disbelievingly. This boy cannot really be High King Peter. His sapphire eyes seemed to contain limitless depth as they stared back at her. His strong jaw clenched and unclenched visibly, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Her eyes shifted to his sword, which hung from the belt around his hips. The golden lion head at the top of the hilt was known to only decorate the sword of the Narnian High King. "If you are really High King Peter, why are you so young? How did you get here?"

A grin slowly spread over his face, as if remembering an old joke. "It's a long story, but I guess it's safe to say that Aslan works in mysterious ways."

Evelyn's eyes widened at the name Aslan. "He really exists doesn't he?" She breathed.

Smiling, Peter nodded. "Indeed he does."

"What of the Narnians?" She continued. "Do they still exist?"

Peter bent over to retrieve her fallen sword, before holding it out to her. "Of course," he replied. Evelyn looked down at the Telmarine sword in his hands, one that he was so willing to put back into her possession.

Her gaze shifted from the sword back up to his face, which was observing her curiously. She stared back in confusion. "You are giving me back my sword?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

His face split into a sarcastic grin and he chuckled softly. "I believe I am."

Evelyn almost laughed in disbelief. What on earth makes him think that I am trustworthy? She thought, even though she meant him no harm. "How can you be sure I will not kill you as soon as I take the blade from your hand?"

His cerulean eyes flashed and his smirk grew as he responded daringly, "Only one way to find out."

Evelyn looked back at him stubbornly for a moment or two, before taking the sword from his hand and sliding in smoothly back into its sheath, never breaking their eye contact.

Peter dropped his arm and took a small step back, grinning smugly. Then his expression changed and he cocked his head to the side. He realized that he had to choose his questions carefully. Something about this girl told him that prying questions were not welcome. "So where do you plan to go?" He asked, keeping his questions vague.

She shrugged. "What does it matter?"

"Come with me back to Aslan's How," Peter suggested. "I'm sure we'll be able to help you in some way or another.

Giving him a questioning look, she wondered incredulously what made this boy so sure that she was good. For all he knew, he could be letting a Telmarine spy into his midst. Nevertheless, she weighed her options. He seemed trust worthy, and if he was really who he said he was, than he may be able to help her. Or she could wander aimlessly through the forest until she died of starvation, or was caught by more soldiers. It took her no time at all to make her decision.

"Alright," she decided with a nod. "I'll go with you." Evelyn started forwards, but was halted by the burning pain that ran up her side. Her eyes widened briefly and she let out a small cry dropped to her knees, closing her eyes tightly as her hand flew to her cut.

Peter's voice was filled with concern as he dropped down beside her and asked, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

His voice seemed far away as Evelyn drew in deep breaths and lifted her shirt. The bandage she had made was completely soaked with blood, and the edges of the gash seemed to have grown while she was fighting. Now how did that get there? She wondered in confusion, the blood loss finally starting to affect her.

Peter gasped in shock when he noticed her stained shirt. "How did this happen?"

Her vision was becoming hazy, and when she spoke it was as if another person far away was talking. "Attacked... by soldiers.... kept running...." The words were spoken breathlessly with long pauses in between.

"We have to get you to my sister, Lucy," Peter said, his voice growing more hysteric. "She can heal you."

Nodding, Evelyn pushed herself shakily to her feet, gripping Peter's strong arm tightly for support. "Okay..." she said dreamily. Have to get to Lucy.... but I am... so... tired... with that, Evelyn's eyes rolled back into her head and darkness over took her.

~:~:~:~:~

Nothing but darkness.... and pain. She was vaguely aware of the feel of strong arms cradling her... carrying her somewhere.
A beautiful voice cried loudly for help, raising Evelyn out of her restless slumber.Why is everyone so loud? She wondered absently without opening her eyes. Why can't you let me sleep?
Something very soft was placed underneath her... and a drop of sweet, warm liquid was poured into her mouth.
Gasping unconsciously, warmth flooded through her body, growing hotter and hotter as it reached her injured side....
A strange wriggling feeling filled her, and then the pain was gone...
And the darkness returned.....
~:~:~:~:~

Where am I? Evelyn wondered airily as she slowly regained consciousness. What happened?

Groaning softly, she opened her eyes. Above her, the ceiling was a tan brown, seemingly made of stone. She blinked twice and furrowed her brow. How did I get here?

With a rush, she remembered running away from her burning village. She remembered being chased by the Telmarine soldiers, being wounded—meeting Peter. Her eyes widened and she shot up, realizing that she had been asleep in a soft bed. She wore nothing but a thin white dress that felt light and smooth against her skin. Holding the sheet at her chest she quickly lifted the dress from her side to look at her injury—but there was nothing there. The smooth skin of her waist was unscathed, not even a scar remained from her cut. She raised her hand to her cheek, realizing that the scratch she had received from Peter was gone as well.

"You're awake," a deep voice spoke from across the room, causing Evelyn to jump and shriek, clutching the white sheet more tightly as she pulled her dress back down to cover herself.

She turned in the direction of the voice and found Peter leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He had removed the outer layer of his tunic and was now wearing a breezy white shirt, his sword still hanging from the belt around his waist. "I'm glad you're alright," he said, grinning at her good-naturedly.

Evelyn ran a hand through her long hair in attempts to slow her beating heart. How much had he just seen? She took a breath and looked back at him. "Where are we?" She asked, her plum-colored eyes scanning the room around her. "And how is it there is no trace of my injury?"

Peter easily pushed himself off the wall and began strolling toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. "We're at Aslan's How. My sister, Lucy, has a potion that is able to heal any injury. You were hurt, that's why I brought you here."

"You brought me here..." Evelyn said, more of a statement that a question. Peter nodded once nonetheless, his blue eyes still looking at her curiously.

He jerked his head towards the foot of the bed she lay on. "I had some clothes brought in for you, so I'll leave you to get changed." Still holding her gaze, he inclined his head slightly and slipped out of the door, closing in quietly behind him and leaving Evelyn to her wandering thoughts.