❝ 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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Phoebe felt as though they'd been walking for days on end, but she knew it was just an illusion. The glaring sun reflected off the snow, making her squint her eyes. The lighthearted conversations she'd been having with Susan and Lucy had somewhat kept her mind off it, but the walking was becoming a far more arduous task by the minute.
Looking over her shoulder, she could see their footprints stretching far off into the distance. The beavers, despite their legs being far smaller, had somehow managed to stay ahead of the four children for all this time. Peter had fallen behind, keeping his thoughts to himself.
"Hurry up, humans! While we're still young!" Mr. Beaver's tone was surprisingly upbeat, considering the fact that he was carrying a far heavier bag in contrast to his body weight (he and Mrs. Beaver had switched roles several times over their trek). Phoebe didn't know how he managed it. A low mumble came from Peter behind her.
"If he tells us to hurry up one more time, I swear to whatever powers that be, I'll turn him into a large fluffy hat." Phoebe laughed despite herself, lifting her hand up to her mouth to muffle the sound. Peter's head snapped up to look at her, but she turned around swiftly before he could catch her eye.
Phoebe didn't miss the half-questioning, half-knowing looks she was getting from Susan and Lucy. Susan was smiling at her, as though she knew something Phoebe didn't, and Phoebe glared at her briefly. Unfortunately, it didn't diffuse the situation - it just made Susan collapse into her own fit of giggles.
"Walk faster, you lot! There's no time to have a laughing fit now!" Phoebe heard Peter mutter something under his breath again, clearly in response to Beaver's demands, and she wondered when exactly he would get around to turning the small creature into a hat.
"He is getting awfully bossy." Lucy's voice was pensive, less accusatory than Phoebe would've expected. It was always something that had fascinated Phoebe about younger children - the way that they could keep their emotions rather in check. Phoebe may have had five or so years on her, but Lucy was likely far more mature.
"I know, Lu. Maybe we ought to feed him to Aslan when we get to his camp." The girl gasped, before bursting into laughter. Susan looked over at Phoebe, still smiling in that knowing way of hers. Phoebe glared at her again, but Susan just shrugged and turned back to the way she was originally facing.
"Whichever one of you keeps telling jokes ought to know that we've got a great deal more walking to do!" Phoebe could've sworn all for children (maybe even Mrs. Beaver) groaned. Beaver meant well, but his chastising tone really was not helping.
Some noise drifted over to them, floating on the wind. By this point, Phoebe was almost convinced she was going utterly mad - that was, until, the noise got closer and louder. It was bells, small bells, making a high pitched noise. The type of bells that were normally attached to a sleigh.
