It had been the Lion's Will. And it had been His Will again which had brought the Pevensies back to Narnia only once the ones they loved so dearly had passed beyond into His Country.

But it's also His Will that she be standing here now, clinging tight to the faun (such as he was) she had loved so dearly while he tells her he understands; he forgives the lifetime they had lost together. She can't begin to stop an exhausted, happy smile from bursting over her lips.

"And... y-you're here."

He's so easy to cling to. It's so familiar to bury her face in against his shoulder (how odd, to feel the fabric of a jacket, but how well-known, being this tall against him).