RUTH:

I tossed and turned, unable to slow my racing thoughts. My attempt to talk to Edmund had gone horribly.

"Edmund, wait," I had called, following him down a hallway. He turned briefly over his shoulder, revealing the tears coursing down his cheeks, and started to sprint.

"Ed, no," I moaned, dashing after him. He wound through the castle expertly, trying to shake me loose. My legs wobbled underneath me, bandages chafing painfully around my ankles, but I pressed on. I put on a burst of speed and caught his wrist. I could feel his pulse racing wildly under my grip.

"Ruth, no, go away," he sobbed, trying to wrench his wrist away.

"Hey... hey..." I said gently. He stopped fighting and stared at the ground. "I'm not leaving you until you feel better."

"I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. And that's alright. Come on, Ed, you can talk to me." I let go of his wrist, and ducked into the room closest to us. I had lowered myself down onto a couch gingerly, still breathless and aching from the run. He had seen the grimace of pain I failed to hide, opened his mouth, closed it, sniffled, and run away. This time, I was no match for him. He had gotten away.

I rolled over to face his bed. He was curled up with his back to me, deeply asleep. I sighed and rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I heard someone else in the room stir. and I knew I had made too much noise and started to wake someone up. I quietly got out of bed, slipped my feet into slippers, and stepped out into the hallway. I made my way back over to the balcony where Peter had found me.

Part of me wished he would find me there again, in the middle of the night. After failing to find Edmund, I learned that Peter was in a meeting with the leaders of the Archenland army discussing safety measures. He did not appear at lunch, nor at dinner. I helped Mrs. Beaver make a platter of snacks for the men and brought it in. I hated seeing the lines of worry wrinkling Peter's brow, and the fatigue painting black beneath his eyes. After the sun had gone down, he stumbled into the bedroom, muttered a good night to me, the only person still awake, as he changed into nightclothes, and promptly fell asleep.

Standing there at the edge, looking out upon the dark water and the soldiers sleeping around campfires on land, I felt alone. A chill wind whispered around me, finding every open wound in my heart.

The night I lost my family had been exactly like this. I wanted it to rain. I wanted it to pour. I wanted the sky to cry, too. But the stars still shone, mocking me. The moon cast a ghostly glow on the wreckage, reminding me of what I lost. The fires raged unhindered. The sky did not cry for me.

Again, tonight, the sky did not cry for me. I felt a hot tear slide down my face. My wrists and ankles ached with the ghosts of chains. My heart was heavy, pulling me down into the darkness Narnia had allowed me to escape from, for a moment. There was no Peter to save me now.

Behind me, I heard what was unmistakably a sword being drawn slowly from its sheath. I stiffened. I had no weapon on me. No one in sight. The soldiers down below would not be able to reach me in time if I cried for help. I could not fight back unarmed. I only had one choice.

I yawned loudly, and, without turning around, walked directly to my left and ducked down a hallway. I listened intently for footsteps; whoever it was had decided to follow me. I walked slowly, careful to maintain enough distance to be safe but not so much that I couldn't hear the intruder. I looked into each room out of the corner of my eye, scanning desperately for some sort of weapon. Up ahead, I saw the faint flicker of candlelight. I crept to the door, an idea suddenly coming to me.

"BOO!" I yelled bursting into the room and closing the door. I laughed hysterically, running into the room and yanking the mounted sword from the wall. "You should have seen the look on your face!" I shrieked. "You were so-" I threw the door open and pressing the tip of the sword to the nose of a dwarf. "Surprised?"

He lunged out, trying to attack. He managed to slice an ugly cut across my fingers before I could lay my sword across his neck.

I couldn't help but chuckle as his eyes bugged out. "I'm going to take that as a yes, you were surprised. Alright, off to the dungeon you go. I'll take that." I flipped his knife out of his hand and onto the floor. I kicked it into the room behind us and closed the door. Keeping the tip of my sword hovering at his neck, I led the way down the stairs to the dungeon. The soldier keeping guard there jumped to his feet in surprise.

"Who are you? Where did... how... what...?"

I laughed. "I'm Ruth Byrne, friend of the Pevensies. For reasons I'd rather not explain at this ungodly hour, I was away from Narnia when you arrived. But don't worry," I explained quickly, "I bring no harm. I couldn't sleep, and he tried to sneak up on me. Looks like he's looking for his friends."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so too. I can take him from here. Thanks."

"Not a problem," I replied as casually as possible before walking back up the stairs. I put the sword back on the wall and took the bloody knife from the ground. I examined my fingers, suddenly aware of the searing pain. I pressed my fingers to the fabric of my dress to try to stop the bleeding, knowing it wouldn't last. I was beginning to get lightheaded. This was serious.

I hated to wake Peter up, but I knew I wouldn't last very long trying to find bandages on my own. I hurried to the bedroom, and gently shook his shoulder.

"Ruth?" he asked, rubbing his eyes and starting to sit up.

"No no no," I said, "you can lie back down." I hoped he was too tired to register what I asked. "I'm sorry to wake you, but where are the bandages?"

"Kitchen," he drawled, his eyes drooping.

"Thanks!" I whispered. "Good night." I scampered out of the room before he could think too much about what I said and closed the door. I ran down to the kitchen, throwing drawers open trying to find them.

Bingo. I gingerly wrapped a clean white cloth - I don't understand why bandages are always white, blood stains are less noticeable on darker fabrics - around my fingers. I stumbled, dizziness crashing over me in crippling waves.

The kitchen door flew open. A single candle illuminated golden hair and flashing blue eyes.

"Ruth!" Peter cried, his eyes going first to the bloody mess on my stomach before landing on my bandaged hand. He sighed in relief as he rushed to my side. "What happened? Are you okay?"

I giggled, feeling deliriously happy. "I guess you figured out why I needed the bandages."

"You're slurring your words together," he said grimly. He pulled a chair out and forced me into it. "How much blood have you lost..." he muttered to himself as he rummaged through the drawer. He pulled out a small bottle. "This is going to hurt, but I need you to trust me."

"I trust you." I beamed at him. "I trust you with my life. You're my best friend. You and Susan and Edmund and Lucy. Su and Ed and Lu. Oh! Wow! Su and Lu and... and Ru! I'm Ru!" He smiled crookedly, taking my hand in his and peeling the bandages back. He gently poured the liquid onto my hand. "Ow..." I moaned, my head clearing slightly.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry..." he said, winding the bandages around my hand tightly. "I'll go get the vial."

"No. No, I... it's okay." I shook my head to clear the fog, and nearly fell out of the chair. I moaned again.

"Would you rather me stay with you until the dizziness clears? I know you don't want to use the vial, I just thought you were, um..."

"Loopy enough to let you?" I teased, smirking a little.

He shrugged, smiling. "I guess." He pulled up a chair and reluctantly let go of my hand. He did, however, inch his closer to mine so that our knees nearly touched. "What happened, Ruth?"

I sighed. "I couldn't sleep. I got up, like I did this morning, but there was a dwarf. I heard him pull a knife, and-" I giggled.

"And what?" he pressed, smiling reluctantly.

"I can't believe I did this, but I yawned, pretending not to hear him, burst into a room like I was trying to scare someone, took a sword off the wall, and managed to walk him to the dungeon."

He laughed. "Nice one! That was clever. How did this happen, though?" He took my hand again.

"The dwarf managed to get one good shot at me before I disarmed him," I admitted. "I didn't want to wake you, but I knew I'd faint without the bandages."

"I'm glad you did. I don't mind." His voice was tender.

"Thanks," I replied, failing to fight the blush creeping from my neck to my cheeks.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" he asked after a couple moments of silence.

I looked down at our hands in shame and recounted the story of what had happened with Edmund.

He was equally troubled. "I'll try to talk to him tomorrow. He's been acting a little off lately. He never smiles. He spends a lot of time by himself."

I frowned. "How did the meeting go?"

"It was alright. No one really knows what to do. Keep hunting for dwarves, and then what? No one knows how they're getting here or what they want. We..."

"It will be okay," I said, squeezing his hand. "We're together, right?"

Peter nodded. "We're together."

Mrs. Beaver stumbled into the kitchen, tiny curlers in her fur. She blinked in surprise.

"I was wondering why there were candles lit in here! What's wrong? Ruth? Are you alright?"

I nodded, yawning. "I caught another dwarf."

"Oh goodness! Tonight? And what happened to your hand?"

I briefly explained my encounter, yawning periodically.

"Sounds like you are ready to sleep now," Peter teased.

"Oh, it's morning!" Mrs. Beaver exclaimed. "Look!"

Surely enough, the sky outside was beginning to grow lighter.

"Of course it is," I said with a sigh.

"You should still get some sleep," Peter remarked, helping me to my feet.

"I agree, dear. You've been up all night!"

"Alright," I relented. "See you later, Mrs. Beaver."

I stumbled down the hallway, Peter standing protectively next to me.

"You're so tired," he whispered sadly as he caught me by the shoulder.

I nodded, feeling a tear leak out of the corner of my eye. I sniffed.

"Oh, what's wrong?" he asked, turning to study me. We stood in front of the bedroom door.

"Just tired," I answered, wiping my eyes. "I... look at me. A third of me is covered in bandages and I've barely slept a wink in days and I... I'm so tired."

"I know," he said gently, brushing a flyaway hair out of my face. "You need to sleep." He opened the door and gently pushed me onto my bed. He pulled my shoes off, pulled the covers around me, and propped my injured hand up next to me on my pillow.

"Thanks," I murmured, my eyes closing.

"Of course," he replied, his footsteps echoing away.

I woke some time later to intensifying pain in my hand. Peter was sitting on the edge of his bed, peering at me intently.

"Oh, good, you're awake. You've been crying in your sleep. I didn't know if I should wake you or not."

I dried my bleary eyes on my sheet. I felt sweaty and disgusting and way too hot. I hoped he couldn't tell. "I'm fine. Just hot."

"Hot?" he asked, feeling my forehead. "Oh, yes, you are. You should change to something cooler. I'll bring you some water."

"No, it's alright," I said, throwing the sheets off and standing up. "I think I just need some fresh air. And maybe a change of dress," I added, glancing down at the crimson stain on the one I was wearing.

He grimaced. "I'd agree. Meet you in the pavilion in ten minutes?"

"Sounds good," I said with a smile. He smiled back and left. I quickly threw the dress I was wearing into the laundry pile accumulating in the corner - with dwarves still running amok no one wanted to risk doing laundry in the defenseless water - and pulled a red dress over my head. Seemed fitting; in the event of another sneak attack, I didn't want to ruin another light-colored dress. I ran a brush through my tangled hair, which had returned to its naturally straight state, and pulled it into a loose braid. Feeling like it was better to be extra cautious, I strapped my sword to my waist. Feeling quite suffocated at this point, I stepped into the hallway and breathed deeply.

I considered paying a visit to the kitchen, but I wasn't very hungry. I made my way to the pavilion, my eyes darting back and forth, scanning for any hidden dangers. I heard the sounds of a sword, and I rushed forward, drawing my own.

However, I saw that Peter's opponent was a short straw man. I silently sheathed my sword and watched. With several deliberate strokes, Peter blocked and countered invisible attacks, dancing around it. Straw bits flew into the air, and for a grand finale, he took the head off.

"Nice one!" I called encouragingly. He jumped back from surprise, then smiled sheepishly.

"I see you brought yours," he called, nodding at my hip. "What do you say to a friendly duel?"

"What do I say?" I strode closer to him, letting my hands hang limply. "What do I say, indeed?" I stopped inches away from his face, and grabbed my sword out in one single motion. "I say yea!"

The duel was on. We danced in the dust, swords swirling. The scrape of metal on metal rang in the air. I surprised myself with the speed of which I was able to block his attacks, and even launch a few of my own. He seemed to be surprised too, based on the way his eyes widened before quickly narrowing in concentration every few seconds.

I was doing so well.

But then.

But.

Then.

My dress caught.

On what, I'll never know. But I went from winning our play-fight to being flat on my back in a matter of milliseconds.

"Ruth! Are you alright?!"

I howled in laughter as a response, throwing my sword off to the side as I lay flat on my back, twitching with giggles. He began to laugh too. Once our laughter died down to chuckles, I got to my feet and made my way over to the wall surrounding the dusty arena. He joined me.

"That was fun," he panted. "You're good."

"So are you!" Out of the corner of my eye, I admired the way his shirt fit just a little bit tighter in all the right places.

A flash of blue drew my attention away from Peter. A blue magpie had swooped into the pavilion and alighted on a straw person's shoulder.

"Look," I whispered, pointing.

The little bird poked around the straw, looking for something. Apparently finding what it had been looking for, it chirped into the sky excitedly. Another magpie, this one black and lean, tentatively joined the blue magpie on the straw.

"You know," Peter whispered, leaning closer to me, "my mum wasn't a superstitious person, but she said that two magpies together symbolizes happiness in union."

I smiled. "Mine said the same thing. She loved bird watching when we went to her childhood home in the country." I hesitated. "The blue magpie is a lot like you, and the black one is a lot like me. The blue one is the same color as your eyes, actually. Adventurous. Helpful. Brave. And the black one is like me-"

"Beautiful?"

He clapped a hand over his mouth.

I looked at him in surprise. He met my gaze with bright blue eyes. "I didn't mean that. Well- no, I did, I just- I didn't mean to say it then, I- I just-"

I felt my face flame. "You really mean it?"

Still mortified, he nodded. He lowered his hand so I could see his embarrassed smile.

"Thanks," I stammered, smiling back. I quickly turned back to the magpies, who were now chattering excitedly as if talking to each other. "Happiness in union, huh?"

"Y-Yes. Happiness in union." He cleared his throat. "I see what you mean about the black magpie being like you. It was sweet and shy, but it trusted the blue magpie."

"It did. Smart bird."

"Do you trust me?" he asked shyly.

An even wider grin spread across my face as an idea blossomed in my mind. "With my life, Magpie," I answered.

"Magpie?" He sounded amused and intrigued.

"Mhm! MAGnificent, MAGpie. Unafraid of trying new things. Always searching for the value in situations."

"I like the sound of that," Peter said, the smile in his voice detectable. "Magpie."

"My magpie." I gently squeezed his hand with my injured fingers as the magpies we were watching took flight and disappeared into the big blue sky above.