"It smells funny."

Lucy wrinkled her nose as another fur coat brushed past her face, tickling her cheeks and wafting the faint scent of mothballs and dust towards her again.

She shifted slightly, raising her legs and pushing them straight up against the door, ignoring her brother's sleepy objection as they came to rest by his head.

"I know, Lu" came the voice of her oldest brother, "but just bear it a little longer." He winced as his forehead hit the clothes rail, and hung his head as low as was possible in the small space. "We'll be out of here before you know it."

Lucy watched the little light that came between the doors flicker across his hair, hanging golden and dancing in front of his eyes, and tried to forget where they were.

The clothes surrounding the four siblings may have muffled the sounds that had driven them inside, but it would take more than fur coats to quieten her fear. Though she tried to shut her ears to the noises, it was impossible to ignore the dull thuds and booms that had first awoken them, the silence that had reigned in the wardrobe for 20 years no match for the explosions outside. It was hard to distract herself when each hollow blast made the doors rattle against her feet and sent showers of dust cascading onto her shoulders, like snow from a shaken tree.

She grabbed one of the furs beside her and ran her fingers through the animal's soft down, her searching hand eventually coming to rest in Susan's own slender fingers.

"I hope Mother's okay," her sister whispered. It was directed inwards, like a prayer to herself, but the others heard and also hoped, and Lucy's stomach clenched once more. She rested her head on Peter's shoulder as he turned to Susan.

"Don't be silly, Sue, Mother's fine. Mother has to be fine."

He was silent for a few moments, perhaps ashamed of the catch in his voice. Beside her ear, Lucy heard a faint rustle as he raised his head to the ceiling, and made no comment when something wet fell from his face to hers.

"Let's pretend it's a game," he whispered into the darkness, words seeming hushed and magical in the heavy stillness of the wardrobe. "We're just playing hide and seek, waiting for Mother to come and find us, like she always does."

He straightened, and found the others: an arm around Lucy, a hand on Edmund's shoulder, his knee against Susan's.

"Imagine," he murmured, "that we hide in this very wardrobe, but it isn't hot and cramped like this, its big and cold. . ." His voice got louder and more confident as he withdrew into his mind's eye, leading the others behind him.

"We walk right through this wardrobe and find ourselves in a huge, snowy forest, and we're all stood there in our pajamas and slippers getting wet feet. . ."

Quiet laughter filled the wardrobe as the children imagined the scenario, already settling back into the picture Peter was creating for them.

And so, with their own world collapsing around them, the siblings found themselves a new land, stretching far beyond the four walls of their small sanctuary, and the bombs and the fur and the smell all faded before the tale of magic and adventure Peter wove for his family.

And the real world slowed, left far behind, as the Pevensie children travelled further and further into Narnia.