A Boat, Narnia, Saturday Night
Cold, wet and on a boat south wasn't how Edmund had planned to spend his Saturday night. He'd made it to the river delta. His sources had been somewhat correct, if missing the whole picture. Now all he had to show for his efforts was a botched skirmish in the Marshlands, a lead to follow and a marsh-dwelling ferry driver who assured him as they followed Edmund's target that he was so good at being quiet that most times people never even noticed he was there, even when he was standing right in front of them. There was even a bit of a sigh involved during this reassurance.
Personally, Edmund thought he was a bit of a sad sack stick in the mud. At least he was a quiet sad sack stick in the mud. They pressed on south along the coastline and Edmund couldn't help but be completely aware that Cair Paravel was further along, too far to see, but too close for comfort when his task at hand came to mind.
Personally, Edmund thought he was a bit of a sad sack stick in the mud. At least he was a quiet sad sack stick in the mud. They pressed on south along the coastline and Edmund couldn't help but be completely aware that Cair Paravel was further along, too far to see, but too close for comfort when his task at hand came to mind.