❝ there was a difference between living and existing, and for the first time, phoebe felt like she was living. and wasn't that a marvellous thing?❞
[book 1]
in which a boy calls a girl irrelevant, but somehow manages to fall in love with her anyway...
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Peter had to admit, being woken up by a beaver was a very strange way to start the day. The scent of smoke burnt his nostrils - clearly, they'd already extinguished the fire. Rubbing the sleepiness from his face, he stretched and looked around with bleary eyes. Susan and Lucy were being gently awoken by Mrs. Beaver, a harsh contrast to the rough shaking he'd received.
If he was honest, part of Peter had been hoping that it had all been a dream. That he would wake up back in Finchley, or at Professor Kirke's estate, and never have to worry about fantastical lands or Witches who created eternal winters.
Peter looked over to his left and saw Phoebe still asleep. The beavers clearly hadn't gotten around to waking her up yet. He felt a stab of guilt go through his heart. After all, he hadn't exactly treated her in the best way the day before. She probably hated him, and she had a good reason. He'd taken all of his anger out on her. For Christ's sake, even his apology had been sub-par.
He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, blinking in an attempt to wake himself up still. Phoebe was still sleeping, her breaths forming clouds in the cold air. Peter remembered being fairly stunned when Susan grabbed her out of her room when they were running, and even more so when she ended up in Narnia alongside them.
And of course, knowing his luck, he managed to ruin it. Honestly, Peter knew he was stupid sometimes, but that really had been one of his worst moments. Now, she hated him. He'd called her irrelevant, for crying out loud! Peter didn't know how she'd restrained herself from killing him.
In a spur of decision making (and maybe some recklessness), Peter reached over and shook her lightly. She grumbled under her breath and rolled over, something about 'five more minutes'. Peter laughed slightly - he didn't miss the looks that Susan and Lucy both shot him, before turning to each other and giggling.
"Phoebe, you have to get up. We need to go." He shook her a little harder, and her eyes opened just a crack, before realising just who had woken her up and sitting up with a gasp, shooting him a glare as she did so. Peter ran his hand through his hair once again, sighing almost to himself. He really had messed up this time.
"Thanks for waking me." Her tone was sharp, clipped. Clearly, she hadn't forgotten his absolute train wreck of an apology from the night before. He stood up and nodded to her. If she thought he hated her, Peter figured there was no use trying to change her mind this early in the morning.
Phoebe stood up too, brushing off some of the snow which had clearly fallen on her through the night. Mrs. Beaver, having finished waking up the girls, was busying herself with repacking the bag's items which had been strewn across the forest floor through the night.
Peter noticed that there were a few bare patches on the ground where the snow had melted, not just around the fire. Maybe spring really was coming, but how could that possibly be their fault? It had to be because of this Aslan fellow that the beavers wouldn't shut up about.
