"She seemed rather homesick," Edmund reflected. "Like most of us, I imagine." There was some backhanded benefit to being accustomed to living in exile, Edmund supposed. "Well, it's a place to start. I can ask Caspian later, as well."
In the meantime, they would look for materials to make snares. "Very good." They'd lived too long in Narnian for the idea of hunting talking creatures not to make him shudder. "Not even if we were starving," he said darkly, his earlier appetite gone.
Even answering questions about his knee was more welcome. "A bit, but it's healing." He made a face. "Slowly." It sounded as though the conversation hadn't gone badly, at least. "I suppose we don't need to be friends as long as we can work together. He worries me less than his so-called angel." Edmund exhaled shortly. "Although who doesn't like sardines?"