It’s not always easy to express thankfulness, but the truth is, there’s always something to be grateful for! Write about any Narnian choosing to be thankful despite the circumstances.
Example: “In Comparison”
“We’ve just got to make the best of it,” Lucy said.
Edmund leaned his head against the wall, knowing she was right, but not wanting to admit it. “I just don’t get why we….” He trailed off, remembering he’d said it at least five times already. From the corner of his eye, he saw that Lucy was ready to say something, but was relieved that she decided not to. Except that she said it in her eyes, and that was worse.
“Alright, alright,” he finally grumbled. “I’ve camped in the cold, marched on an empty stomach, and slept in a cave with an ogre blocking the way out. And, in comparison, this is a much better situation. There, satisfied?”
Lucy smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the door suddenly swinging open.
“Oh, come off it already,” Eustace declared as if he knew anything. “Your make-believe adventures are just that. Alberta says that all it does is muddle your grasp on reality. And besides, it makes folks absolutely insufferable.” Eustace held his nose high as if he really had anything to say on the matter. Then he abruptly added, “And dinner is nearly ready,” before turning on his heel and marching out.
Edmund was tempted – oh so tempted – to snip back, but one look from Lucy made him bite his tongue. After a few seconds, he finally said in a tight voice, “At least that’s the worst insult he can come up with?”
Lucy stood and offered a hand to help him off the floor. “That’s the spirit.”
And the winner is…
“Sandstorm” by Tom Duffy
It was another beautiful day in Narnia. The White Witch had been gone for seven years and the four Kings and Queens ruled majestically from Cair Paravel. It was a wonderful time to be alive.
“Mother, Shadowsheen is going to Archenland to show the new one- and two-year olds the Great Desert. I know I am not yet one year old, but my birthday is less than a month away. Can I, please, please, go with him?
Finbro sighed. “Yes, Hwin,” as she looked at her prancing foal, “yes, you can go with the herd. Every horse should see the Great Desert and the beautiful southern edge of Archenland. You must mind Shadowsheen and the other stallions and mares. It is dangerous near the desert. Sandstorms can spring up quickly and there is always Calormene raiders to watch out for.
Hwin neighed happily and nuzzled her mother’s nose. “Oh, I will, I will.”
After three days of traveling across Narnia and over the pass into Archenland the herd slowed as they beheld the Great Desert. Spreading across the vista, a vast yellow expanse merged with the distant horizon.
Shadowsheen cautioned the foals as they gathered around him near the flowing waters of the Winding Arrow. “I must warn you all to be especially watchful of the sky. Sandstorms can spring up very quickly. If you see it darkening head back to the north. Keep the sun on you right in the morning and on your left in the afternoon. This will keep you heading to Narnia and the North. Be watchful of anyone you see or meet out in the desert. There are Calormene raiders around who are always looking for horses to capture and take back to Tashbaan. If you are captured, do not ever speak. If they find out you are a talking horse they will keep you ever so closely guarded. Now go, be careful, and explore the Great Desert. There is no place like it in Narnia.”
Hwin joined the rest in a mad scramble to the south. Oh, how different the sand feels from the heathery hills of Narnia. The foals frolicked for several days at the edge of the desert, never going too far from the waters of the Winding Arrow.
Hwin soon began to be weary of the more boisterous members of the herd and began to wander by herself further and further from the rest. “I need some quiet time away from everyone else. The older horses are so loud and pushy. Always wanting to race or get into fights over other mares. I didn’t come here to choose a mate. I am not even a year old. My mother would be furious if anything happened,” thought Hwin.
As Hwin wandered, she didn’t notice the wind as it slowly picked up speed. All at once she started. “How did it get so dark so quickly, it isn’t even lunchtime?” She looked around and saw on her right a massive billowing, pulsating, and dark shape. It was all shades of brown and tan and black flowing through the air getting blacker and blacker as it closed in on her. “Oh, Aslan,” she cried, “a sandstorm! I must try and save myself. What did Shadowsheen say? Keep the sun on my right in the morning and left in the afternoon. But what if it lunchtime and there is no shadow, then what do I do? The storm is on my right so it must be coming from the south so I will keep it on my right and try and run around it I will be heading north.”
Alas, it was not to be. The sandstorm was moving in from the north-east and poor Hwin was blindly running further and further south. Hwin also did not known how fast a sandstorm can move and that it was impossible to outrun. Very soon the storm engulfed her in clouds of billowing, biting, sharp sand. After three minutes Hwin couldn’t breathe. She quickly slowed down and tried find some place to get out of the storm. She thought she saw a darker something ahead and ran towards it. She didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was had to be better than staying out in the sandstorm. When she reached it she saw it was a small mound or outcropping of some kind. She quickly found the side that seemed to have the weakest winds. She settled slowly down as close to the sides as she could and lowered her head to cover it with her hoofs to try and keep the sand out of her nostrils. She found that if she got as small as she could, the shape blocked most of the wind and the blowing sand didn’t sting as much. Exhausted and tired out, Hwin slowly fell asleep in the protection of the shape.
Hwin was woken up several hours later by the feeling of a rope being dropped around her neck. Hwin snapped her eyes open, sprang up and almost let out a yell before she saw who were around her. Twelve or fifteen men in flowing robes were all around trying to put their camp back together. Calormenes! The storm had passed and Hwin realized that she had run in the wrong direction, away from safety and her herd. She had been captured by Calormene raiders who had hunkered down during the storm. She saw that what she had taken for a rock was actually a low tent.
“By the Bolt of Tash,” said a harsh voice, which held the end of the rope, “this is a beautiful horse that has fallen in to our laps.”
Hwin was never so glad to hear a Calormene voice. She would have lost her life in the sandstorm if it wasn’t for the tent that sheltered her. “Oh, Aslan, thank you for saving me, I would have died with these men. I hope I can repay you for saving my life somehow,” she thought.
Don’t forget to check out the winners of the last contest.