RUTH:

"When are you two going to kiss?" Susan asked one day. I nearly dropped the book in my hands.

"Excuse me?"

She glanced around the library, empty except for the two of us. Our shared love of books had contributed to many hours spent together in the spacious room, even when we weren't helping Lucy with her research. We typically talked little, each withdrawing into the world of the story we read, but today was different.

"You know," she whispered. "You and Peter?"

"Us? Kiss?"

"Yes silly, you. Kiss. When will you kiss him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said quickly.

She rolled her eyes. "It's so obvious you two are in love. I'm surprised you haven't kissed already. Or have you...?"

"What? No, we haven't kissed, we-"

Susan laughed. "You don't have to play dumb, Ruth. I see the way you two look at each other."

I flushed. Things had been different in the weeks following our talk on the beach. Summer was giving way to fall, and I had felt our friendship giving way to something more. My nightmares hadn't stopped, but whenever I had them, Peter would shake me awake and go down to the kitchen with me, usually fixing me a cup of tea to soothe my mind and talking to me until I stopped shaking. I had never trusted someone as much as I trusted him, not even my own mother. But I knew he did not love me the way I did him. It was impossible.

"You're lost in thought."

"Oh, sorry," I stammered. "I guess so."

She smirked. "Thoughts of Peter, no doubt."

I cleared my throat awkwardly, not offering further information.

"I can't blame you, you know. I've known since the beginning you two would fall in love. I just knew it!"

"What do you mean?"

"The way you two always did things together. You hid together playing hide and seek, he always wanted to include you in family things. Not to mention the way he smiled at you like you were the only person in the room."

"We're just friends. We're the same age, and the oldest child in our families. We're just good friends."

"For now, perhaps," she said smugly, returning to her book with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

I tried to focus on my book, but my mind wandered. Peter and I were just friends. Just friends. He didn't think of me as anything more. We were just good friends. We couldn't be anything else. It was impossible.

And yet... I couldn't deny the way he made me feel. His smile could brighten even the darkest nights. Whenever I caught him staring at me, my stomach erupted into hundreds of thousands of butterflies. Even after my worst nightmares, the sight of his face could bring me comfort.

"You're doing it again," Susan teased.

"Doing what?"

"You're thinking of Peter."

I didn't deny it this time. I smiled. "Yeah."

"Say, Lucy's birthday is coming up pretty soon. Have you had any ideas? It's-"

"September 30."

She cocked an eyebrow. I blushed.

"I asked Peter for everyone's birthday a couple months ago."

Susan chuckled. "I take it you HAVE had an idea, then?"

"You bet!" I said, jumping to my feet. "Want to see what I've come up with so far?"

🦁

"This is perfect!" Peter exclaimed.

"You really know our sister," Susan agreed.

I beamed and shoved the box back under my bed. "Thanks! Where is she, anyway?"

"She and Ed are playing chess downstairs," Peter answered. "Don't worry. She's not around."

"Did you make your curtains yourself?" Susan asked, stroking the lavender fabric. "They're beautiful."

"A girl's gotta keep busy somehow. I got bored when you all visited Archenland," I said with a shrug. What I didn't say was that I had made a sky blue set for Susan's Christmas gift that same week. "I like working with fabric. I would always help my mom with sewing projects. I even made her a dress one year for her birthday."

"Did you make your beanie?" Peter inquired, teasingly snatching it from my head.

"No," I answered, stealing it back. "Mum did for my birthday that year."

"Ah."

"I won!" a call came from downstairs.

"I LET HER WIN!" came a second voice.

We all laughed.

"I should play Edmund sometime," I remarked as we all headed down the stairs. "I used to beat Michael all the time. I wonder how he compares."

"He's actually quite good," Peter muttered. "He's beaten me every day this week."

I laughed. "Yeah, I'll play him tomorrow. I'm going to head to the courtyard and hack at some straw men. I've been sitting too long."

"I'll go with you," Peter said. "It's better practice with a moving target."

I tried to ignore Susan's raised-eyebrows, smirking-lips "I told you so" look behind Peter and just smiled. "Sounds like fun."

"I think I'll go lose to Edmund," Susan said, her voice as light as air but shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. "You two have fun!"

I felt my face grow hot, but I turned to Peter and shrugged. He smiled, and we headed down to the courtyard.

"Hey, would you look at that?" Peter said softly. "The magpies are back."

I stopped short. Surely enough, they were.

"Are they the same ones as last time, you think?" I whispered.

We stood entranced by the entrance, shoulder to shoulder, our hands nearly touching.

"Yeah. I think so."

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes twinkling in the autumn sun. I quickly looked back towards the magpies.

Peter's pinky grazed the back of my hand, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm.

"I wonder why they don't speak English the way a lot of the animals do," I remarked under my breath, looking up at him more obviously this time with the slight turn of my head. He looked back at me.

"I think they speak their own language for a reason," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. A smile spread slowly across his face. "I think... I think that for these magpies, they speak a language only the two of them understand, and that's enough for them. As long as they're together... they are content with their world being found within each other."

I blushed furiously, my imagination running away and leaving my sense of reality in the dust behind it. Susan's words looped endlessly through my head. "That makes sense to me," I finally responded, turning back to the magpies. Straws in their mouths, they pointed their beaks to the sky and flew away.

"I wonder if they're gathering those straws for a nest together," Peter wondered aloud.

I beamed. "They probably are. They..." I hesitated for a second. Did I dare? Yes. Yes I did. "They're taking parts of our home to make their own."

I didn't look at him again, but I heard the smile in his voice when he replied absently, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

I drew my sword, shaking my head to clear the dreaminess from my mind. "Ready, Pevensie?"

"If you are, Byrne!"

We were a great match. We had learned the other's movements so well we could anticipate the next attack before the other person so much as regained their footing. Our swords clanged against each other until twilight befell us. I put my hands up in truce, dropping my sword.

"They will probably call us in to eat soon," I panted.

"Yeah," he replied, sheathing his sword and tossing mine to me. I started to walk away, but he called after me.

"Ruth, wait."

I turned around and walked back toward him. "Yes?"

He grabbed my hand and led me to the wall. "Let's wait and see if the magpies come back."

I smiled and sat down next to him, his hand still in mine.

I felt as if I were going to explode. Warmth spread from the top of my head to my toes despite the cold breeze now stirring in the trees.

He didn't seem to want to let go.

And neither did I.

It wasn't loud before a familiar call was heard. The two magpies swept back down and perched themselves on top of the same straw person.

Time slowed to a crawl.

I don't know if it was thirty seconds or thirty minutes or thirty hours or thirty days - it wasn't long enough. Peter's hand, strong because of the sword yet soft because of the way he still stroked Lucy's back to help her fall asleep when she missed home, remained wrapped tenderly around mine as we sat, transfixed by the magpies. Speaking their own language. Content with just each other and nothing else. Oblivious to the cold, the dark, the wind.

They were them.

And we were us.