The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

The valley itself, with its brown, cool river, and grass and moss and wild flowers and
rhododendrons, was such a pleasant place that it made you want to ride slowly.
CHAPTER TEN
THE HERMIT OF THE SOUTHERN MARCH
AFTER they had ridden for several hours down the valley, it widened out and they could
see what was ahead of them. The river which they had been following here joined a
broader river, wide and turbulent, which flowed from their left to their right, towards the
east. Beyond this new river a delightful country rose gently in low hills, ridge beyond
ridge, to the Northern Mountains themselves. To the right there were rocky pinnacles,
one or two of them with snow clinging to the ledges. To the left, pine-clad slopes,
frowning cliffs, narrow gorges, and blue peaks stretched away as far as the eye could
reach. He could no longer make out Mount Pire. Straight ahead the mountain range sank
to a wooded saddle which of course must be the pass from Archenland into Narnia.
"Broo-hoo-hoo, the North, the green North!" neighed Bree: and certainly the lower hills
looked greener and fresher than anything that Aravis and Shasta, with their southern-bred
eyes, had ever imagined. Spirits rose as they clattered down to the water's-meet of the
two rivers.
The eastern-flowing river, which was pouring from the higher mountains at the western
end of the range, was far too swift and too broken with rapids for them to think of
swimming it; but after some casting about, up and down the bank, they found a place
shallow enough to wade. The roar and clatter of water, the great swirl against the horses'
fetlocks, the cool, stirring air and the darting dragon-flies, filled Shasta with a strange
excitement.
"Friends, we are in Archenland!" said Bree proudly as he splashed and churned his way
out on the Northern bank. "I think that river we've just crossed is called the Winding
Arrow."
"I hope we're in time," murmured Hwin.
Then they began going up, slowly and zigzagging a good deal, for the hills were steep. It
was all open park-like country with no roads or houses in sight. Scattered trees, never
thick enough to be a forest, were everywhere. Shasta, who had lived all his life in an
almost tree-less grassland, had never seen so many or so many kinds. If you had been
there you would probably have known (he didn't) that he was seeing oaks, beeches, silver
birches, rowans, and sweet chestnuts. Rabbits scurried away in every direction as they
advanced, and presently they saw a whole herd of fallow deer making off among the
trees.