Last night, two human children and some owls showed up in my marsh and woke me up. Shouldn’t wonder if being woken in the middle of the night increases your risk for some sort of deathly illness. At first I though they brought bad news concerning the state of Narnia. Isn’t that the general state of things when folk come to your door at midnight? Apparently though, that isn’t the case this time. Not getting my hopes up though. It’s likely just the calm before the storm. But at the moment, I have a Son of Adam and a Daughter of Eve sleeping (that’s a relative term; likely they’re not sleeping at all, the ground’s probably too damp and cold for them) in my wigwam, and I’m supposed to accompany them to look for the lost prince. I would say that it’s most likely a hopeless venture (and it really is) but I’ve been told the Lion sent them, so at least the chances of his being dead are slim. At the least we can give him a decent burial if we find his bones. If we don’t die ourselves first. With the country in the state that it is, what with the king (especially the king being gone on a trip to the East to seek Aslan) and Trumpkin as old as they are and no heir to follow and the dry summer we’ve had, I’d rather die sooner than later. At the least, this trip will likely end badly, so this is just what I need to sober up as all the Marshwiggles are always telling me I need to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment