(Untitled)

[treading_dawn]

The moon is bright this evening, starlight muffled by its light.

And out of the forest comes a matching light, softening as it emerges from the trees.

The Lion is out and about tonight, walking the boundaries of this place.

Walking, and watching, and waiting for someone very dear to him.

There are a great many to choose from.

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[called_lioness]

She's not all right.

She's coming more and more to this realization, as she walks and hugs herself.

She's not all right in more way than one, and the thing that she'd been worried about before...

(walk with me)

That's not it tonight. Not really. It's there. It's part of it.

But the thing that has her most not-all-right is simply a question:

What if Amy's right?

And it's really all she can think about, even when she sees Aslan, even when she smiles.

[treading_dawn]

"Dear one."

He speaks softly, voice carrying quite far even so.

And then he stands, watching her--great golden eyes solemn and sad and loving--waiting for her to come to him, as always.

[called_lioness]

One of the things about those eyes is that when they look at her, she knows he knows everything already.

That doesn't mean she won't have to say it. But he knows.

Sometimes that makes it easier to bear, a little, and so she just walks over, quietly as she can, and stand in front of him, like she has many times before, and to reach out and just-barely touch his mane.

And this time, her eyes are sad too.

[treading_dawn]

He leans his head down to brush his muzzle against her cheek, whiskers brittle and ticklish where they brush her skin.

His breath is sweet, like always, and his mane is soft.

"Joy and sorrow have ever walked hand-in-hand, Daughter of Eve. I would be sorry for it, but to lose one is to lose the other, and then there would be little of light left."