Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [38]
He sat his watch and peered outwardly, to be sure, but he also observed the others as they slept under their blankets, cloaks or coats, huddled in a close circle around the fire. Mother and Father slept together, wrapped up in a shared blanket. Mother had suffered in the day and night before. He’d seen it in the weary sagging of her shoulders and in her eyes, which no longer shined with the delight she took in nearly every day of her life. Her world was gone. She lost it when they turned away from their caravan wagon, filled with drums and bells and her beloved wooden xylophone. The fact that she now carried in her purse more gold than she’d ever had in her life, more than the total worth of all that she’d left behind, and that Father, Max and Peter each had an amount to match, was of no comfort to her. That wagon was her home and it was gone forever. But she never complained, not once. Mother wasn’t the type.
Mr. and Mrs. Peep also slept together. He was so large, and she was plump enough in her own right, that they could barely get their arms around each other, but somehow they managed it.
The Peep daughters slept in one great extended bundle. Some covers had been kicked off in the night, lying as they were so near the warmth of the fire. Max could see the fascinating curve of one girl’s body, or the flutter of an eyelid, or the delicate quiver of another girl’s perfectly formed and achingly lovely lip as she breathed in and out. Many times he reached out almost touching one of them, before drawing back his hand. Not now, he thought. I’ll wait for the right time, which will be soon enough.
And here was Peter, the only one sleeping alone under his coat. Poor little Peter, who was out in the woods on a great adventure with his dear little sweetheart Bo, but unable to enjoy it. Even now he can’t touch her, Max thought, like I know he wants to. It wouldn’t be proper, and Peter is nothing if not always proper and good. But I could touch the little piggy girl right now if I wished. But I don’t wish because she’s not among the ones I want. Bratty little Bo was sleeping just a few feet away from Peter, so enticingly close, on the outside edge of the tangle of Peep daughters. How Peter will wail and cry when he sees what happens to her.
Out in the darkness the beasts were calling their calls and making every sort of noise. While here by the light Max wasn’t as afraid of them as he had been just hours before, because he was now a thing transformed. He’d pondered imponderable thoughts, and come to dark decisions, as he grew more and more certain that the only way to survive in such a place as this was to become one of them. Just like the creatures beyond the light, Max was now a fell beast of these woods. And none of these foolish sleeping people knew what a terrible danger sat so quietly among them, regarding them without compassion or mercy, with his cold, reptile eyes.
WHEN ANOTHER HOUR had passed, Max gently shook his father awake. “It’s your time to stand guard,” Max whispered close into his ear. Slowly his father came awake, carefully extricating himself from his makeshift bed, so that he didn’t wake Mother. He stood up, found his boots and his sword belt, and put them on. Then he led Max a small distance away from the others, so that their talk wouldn’t disturb them.
“Can you keep watching for another few minutes, son, while I step into the woods a ways and make my water?” Father said. “And then, when I return, if you’re not in too much of a hurry to get back to sleep right away, I’d like to have a private talk with you about some of the decisions I’ve made lately.”
“You mean about giving Frost to Peter,” Max said.
“Yes. That and other things.”
“Of course, Father. I’ll stay up as long as you like.”
“Thank you. I won’t be long.” And with that Father turned and stepped gingerly into the darkness, pausing once at the very edge of the firelight to turn and say, “I’m proud of the way you acted today. I’m proud to see my first son grow into so steadfast