She turned away from the edge, tears threatening to slip past the rock hard blockade of her face. A terrified yell was heard, before a sickening crunch sounded and she gave in. Hot, salty water began to course down her cheeks, tracing paths in the dust and grime that covered her pale cheeks. She peered over the edge of the cliff, down at the mangled body that lay there, crumpled and bloody. Broken, just like the rest of the family.

Furiously wiping away any sign of regret or compassion, she turned, her steps making deep imprints in the soft, wet ground as she walked. The clink of her sword on the hips that once danced for hours every night was barely audible. A light mist was falling, seeping into her clothing as she brushed away the thought that she had just killed someone.

The words he uttered…

It came in short flashes, remembering what had transpired only a few moments ago.

Her cruel smile, taunting him to continue…

She grabbed her hair, wrenching it from side to side, pushing her head back and forth trying to clear the images.

His laugh, him thinking she couldn't be serious when she threatened to push him off of the cliff only about a metre behind his boot heels…

She stopped thrashing her head for a moment, continuing to walk, and still not believing she had actually done it.

That cruel smile again as she stepped up to him, placing her hands on his broad shoulders, and giving a strong push that sent him reeling backward, off of the outcropping and onto the rock below…

Her laugh rang out into the damp evening air, deranged and shaky. She gave a satisfied growl, and lengthened her stride to the horse standing by a tree. It was a dumb animal, so therefore couldn't report what it had just witnessed. His horse… Would have to go. She tugged the poor animal over to the cliff, and drew her curved blade.

The large body of the horse landed next to its master, just as corrupted and shattered as the man was, and had been. She was already calculating the cover story that she would use, telling a tragic tale of mishap and accident. No one could ever know how the King of Narnia had died.