Ahren woke to whispers and muttered arguments. It was slow his drift to consciousness. His head was heavy and he was groggy. Mouth tasting like fabric and every joint hurt. His eyes felt glued shut but he could just about smell the scent of burning herbs, earth and campfire smoke. The whispers and mutters on the edge of his hearing. It sounded like five of them. Three women and two men. The sounds made terror fill his veins as he remembered what had happened. The fire, Othello, the forest. A whimper of pain a fear escaped him before he could stop it.

The voices stopped with startling suddenness. There was a noise almost like footsteps but also like hooves. They thudded on earth, hooves clopping as they drew closer. Ahren let loose another noise as a hand gently rested on his forehead. It was warm. He struggled to open his eyes. For a few seconds, his vision blurred as his eyes took a moment to focus. What was a blur of browns and reds took shape and detail. Ahren screamed and with uncoordinated limbs far too sore to move, he scrambled back as quickly as he could.

He was on a bed, or what was a wooden frame covered in furs and animal skins. A blanket had been draped over him and it fell back as he pressed his back to a cold stone wall. It was a rough stone that dug painfully into a wound in his shoulder that made him cry out. Harsh against his bare skin and catching on the bandages wrapped around his chest. Other than that and the trousers on his legs, he was completely bare. "Tello! Tello! Where's Tello?" He cried as his eyes began to well. "I want Tello!"

This was no place he recognised. It was a cave that twisted and turned. The ceilings rose high above him, high enough for two grown men to stand on each other's shoulders. A cooking fire was in the centre of the cave chamber, directly under a small hole where smoke exited. A pot was suspended over the flames and animal skins were drying on a nearby rack. One corner of the cave had been filled with hay like a stable, which made sense considering who was in the cave with him.

The person who had rested their hand on his forehead was closest. She was a woman in her late twenties, with pale skin and long loose red hair that tumbles over her shoulders. She wore a vest made from leather and a belt with various items hanging from it. There was a small knife, a hip flask and few pouches. Under the belt was where she was different. Where hips and human legs would be was a horse's body, legs bent down in a kneeling position and a coat of a rich russet colour that almost matched her hair.

In the doorway stood four more humanoid beings. One in the doorway was a young man with curly blonde hair, barely out of his teens. He was bare chested except for a pack slung over his shoulder and a similar leather belt. His hips were covered in fur and two goat legs stood in place of human limbs.

There was another two women like him. One smaller, slight and young. She did not seem fully grown yet. Her hair was braided back, a more wheat colour to the man's golden blonde. She wore a leather vest dyed dark green and there was freckles across her skin and a flower in her hair. A buttercup. The second woman was older. Her face was wrinkled and her light brown hair had streaks of grey. She shared the same green eyes as the two other satyrs and she wore a tunic in a red brown.

The last one was a man with a horse' body. He was dark skinned with sunbleached brown curls hanging around his face. Bare chested and skin matching his horse hall exactly. He was the same age as the woman, with a resting stern expression that was not helped by the bow and quiver across his back.

"Little one. It's okay. You're safe", The redheaded centaur had her hands out as if soothing a startled animal. Ahren stared at her, arms hugging himself as he pressed as close to the wall as possible. It made the wound on his shoulder throb and he whimpered.

"We won't hurt you. You are safe here", her voice was soft and low. It reminded him of a distant memory of his mother, half forgotten and lying in the back of his mind. "Will you tell us your name?"

At the mention of his name, Ahren jerked. He wanted Othello. He wanted his father. He wanted Caspian. "Ahren. Son of Lord Restimar". Despite his fear and exhaustion and pain, it came out clear and precise as he had been taught.

The people in the cave entrance all exchanged looks. The centaur woman smiled slightly. It was kind. "Ahren. You are safe. Summer and Bree over there found you a few days ago by a stream. You had been shot and were running a fever. You've been in and out of sleep for two days". She gestured towards the two Satyrs. "Bree is the blonde, and his sister Summer. That is their mother, Marigold. Next to her is my friend, Ironhoof. I am Willowbranch".

Ahren flicked his gaze across each of them in turn. "You're narnians. Like the stories".

Willowbranch smiled wider as he relaxed slightly. Narnians could not be more scary than men. "We are. And you are a telmarine".

"Not just any Telmarine. A son of a lord", Ironhoof's voice rumbled across the chamber. Ahren flinched. His dark stare seemed to bore right through him. "What are you doing in our woods son of a lord?"

Willowbranch made an unhappy noise as Ahren promptly burst into tears. "Where's Tello? I want Tello".

"Ironhoof! He's just a child! A child who was obviously shot by soldiers. Stop your posturing!" She snapped. Ironhoof's horse legs shifted uneasily and he appeared a bit bashful at the dressing-down. Satisfied, Willowbranch turned back to Ahren and tried to calm him down. "Ahren. Little one. You're going to aggravate your stitches if you do that. It's fine. You're safe".

She reached over gently, slowly making sure that she wouldn't startle him. Ahren was too much in a state to do much more than flinch slightly and sob as she moved him from the wall. Her arms were warm, far warmer than he was. The comfort they offered were too much to pass up and he clung to her as she tucked him close. His face buried into her shoulder and hidden by her hair as she murmured soft soothing words to him as she hugged him close.

It took time for his sobs to dull down to weeping hiccups. Ahren pulled back and rubbed his eyes roughly, furious at himself for crying. Caspian would not have cried. He would have acted like the prince he was. At least, that thought made Ahren gather himself.

"Is that better?" Willowbranch asked. "Will you tell us what happened now? Where are your parents? Who is Tello?"

Ahren blinked big brown eyes at her. "My guard. The soldiers set fire to my house. He carried me out of the window. He got a horse and said we had to run. But he fell off. The soldiers shot him and he fell off". He almost started bawling again.

"Poor dear", Marigold muttered. Tone full of motherly concern and pity. "Where are your parents?"

"The regent sent my father away. He's out on the sea". He hiccuped, fingers anxiously playing with Willowbranch's long hair. It was surprisingly soft under his hands.

"And your mother?"

"She's dead".

"Why would they want to kill their own lords?" Bree voiced in confusion.

"The king is dead", Ironhoof explained. "Our sources say that the regent is getting rid of anyone who poses a threat to his power. He recently sent seven lords of the King's inner circle away. He must have ordered his men to kill their families with them gone. It can be passed off as accidents".

Summer was wearing a disgusted expression. "Telmarines", She spat. "Only the cowardly kill the weak and defenceless. Who would kill a child?"

"The regent, if we send him back", Bree stated. His sister smacked his shoulder.

"That's obvious. We can't send him back. He'll die. Look at how small he is! I have never seen a human so small. Also he doesn't have fur, so he'll probably die of cold". She waved at hand at Ahren. The boy was beginning to fall asleep in Willowbranch's hold. All the fear and trauma and emotion beginning to drain him. She was still holding him, seemingly unbothered by his weight despite him being a tall seven year old.

"How old are you?" Ironhoof was the one who asked.

Ahren blinked slowly at him, far too emotionally exhausted to be scared. "I'm seven. Eight in November".

"He's a baby!" Summer declared. "Satyrs are already scaling cliffs by five. Humans are too fragile".

"I bet we could teach him to scale cliffs", Bree exclaimed excitedly.

"And to climb trees!"

"We can't keep him", Ironhoof grunted.

"I would like to see you send him back to the people who tried to kill him in a fire, then shot and chased him into the forest", Willowbranch shot back. It started another round of discussion of what to do. Ahren probably should have been listening but instead he was falling back asleep in Willowbranch's arms.

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