Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia, all characters, places, and related terms belong to C.S. Lewis.

Churning, Calming

Twisted in her bed sheets, Polly awoke with a strangled gasp. Turning on her side, she fell out of bed, hitting her head against the wooden floor. The girl lay still for a moment, trying to remember where she was. Her breathing was quick and uneven. She shuddered, and sweat slid down her body.

Slowly she sat up and untangled herself from the sheet wrapped around her. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and ran her fingers through her damp hair, catching on the snarls. Groaning slightly, she rubbed the back of her head.

The girl could not stop shaking. She got to her feet only to collapse on the bed. She attempted to even her breathing and willed her heart to slow its racing gallop. She swallowed hard several times.

She now knew where she was: in the guest room of the Kirkes' country house. She was here visiting Digory for the holidays. And it was the beginning of August. Despite the sweat forming on her skin, she felt chilly.

It was a few more minutes before she had the strength to rise to her feet. She went to the open window, letting the air play over her upturned face, and breathed in deeply. She gazed at the twinkling stars and full moon.

"Only a dream…" she breathed quietly. Yet it did not fade from memory as she returned from the land of dreams. It was all there -- every image, every word, every look, every sensation. She remembered it all.

A final shudder rocked her slender frame, and a pressing pain rose momentarily in her chest before subsiding. Tears formed in her eyes; before they could fall, she brushed her sleeve over her tired eyes.

She was not ready to go back to sleep. She could not sleep. Quickly she put on her slippers and night robe. She lighted a candle and got her sketchbook and a pencil from the night table.

As quietly as she could, she tiptoed out of her room, down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the sitting room. The fire in the large fireplace was slowly beginning to die out.

Polly sat herself on the floor close to the fire. Carefully she set her candle down beside her, along with her book and pencil. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body and stared for a long time into the fire. Snatches of her dream kept returning.

Wind, a terribly strong wind…

Her candle flickered; then it grew bright.

She lost her grip on him, becoming lost for a moment…

The flames leaped; sparks flew into the air.

Hard, cold, mesmerizing eyes…

A chill ran down her spine as she reached for her book.

"Forget them, forget them all…"

Her focus became blurry as she drew. Flashing eyes looked up at her.

"I don't want to go home only to be driven mad."

A crown rested on the head of a tall figure.

A long, heated look passed. The girl could only bear to witness it for a second before the ice, fire, horror in it made her turn her head away…

Adoration shone in the boy's face.

"No, please, do not go…"

Tears, shining like crystal raindrops, fell down the girl's face, with anguish in her eyes. Polly's hand trembled; yet she steadied it with an inner determination and continued drawing the tears.

A chilling kiss…. Her hand in his, aware of only each other, leaving all else behind…

Polly gulped, and tears again blurred her vision as she worked.

A warm breath, a low soothing growl, soft fur, golden eyes shining with tears…

She finished the mane and wrote the date in the bottom corner. Gently she laid aside her pencil. She tried to blink away the tears that now threatened to trail down her face.

"Please, help him." A lion's kiss. "Daughter of Eve…"

"Polly?"

She bit her tongue hard to keep in the sob that wanted to come out. She swallowed it back. With a light swoosh and thud that sounded loud as thunder in her ears, she closed her book, keeping it closed in a death grip with a single hand. She wiped at her face with the other and cleared her throat lightly. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed.

"Polly?" the concerned call came again. Soft, quick footsteps came toward her.

She straightened her back and squared her shoulders. "Yes, Digory," she replied in a soft, calm tone.

She heard him sit down beside her but did not look at him. A short silence passed between the two while she kept her gaze on the fire and his was on her face. She sensed his frown.

"This is the third night in a row I find you down here in the middle of the night, Polly," he commented.

A faint blush rose in her cheeks. Last night she had claimed a headache, the night before that she couldn't sleep. Yet now she could not think of an excuse for her being here. This time she told him the truth.

"I had a…a bad dream." She half-expected him to laugh at her for being troubled by a dream.

Digory lightly touched her shoulder, his frown deepening. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine." She lowered her head and turned it slightly away from him.

"Liar."

That caused her to laugh lightly in surprise, and he chuckled before sobering.

"Was it the same one?" he asked.

Not for the first time did Polly wish Digory did not know her so well. She sighed and shook her head. "No." It was awful, worse than the others.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, and unconsciously she placed her hand over his. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I will forget it eventually. It is all in the past; and if we went back, I know you would not do such a thing, you could not…. Just dreaming it made me forget, and I was so terrified. "I…you do not need to worry yourself." The sharp pain returned for an instant, and her breath caught.

"Polly."

She suddenly found herself facing him. His hair was messed and his eyes were tired, though there were also concern, frustration, slight hurt, and a mysterious light in them. She stared at him for a moment in surprise.

He spoke, an edge in his voice, "I find you, a friend and guest, down here three nights. Did you think I did not notice how you were troubled about something? Or that I did not see you seemed afraid? Or that you had been crying? And I should not be worried?" He scowled.

"I had hoped you would not notice," Polly said.

Digory chuckled dryly. "Polly." His gaze became intense.

"I really do not wish to speak of it," she said, averting her eyes from his. She traced the pattern on her book with one finger. "I will be fine."

He sighed. "Why are you so stubborn?" he asked, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"I, stubborn? What about you?" she accused, with a twinkle in her eyes.

The mood considerably lighter, she stood up with her book and pencil in one hand and her candle in the other. Digory rose with her.

"Would you like some tea?"

Polly declined. "I believe I shall return to bed. It is late." She yawned.

He simply nodded and walked with her out of the room. Side by side they went up the stairs, mindful of not stepping where the boards squeaked. When they reached the top, they made no move to go to their respective rooms. They stood facing each other, not quite able to hold the other's gaze. Digory spoke up first.

"Polly, I…"

She looked at him nervously, waiting. He seemed uneasy; then he finished:

"I hope you have a pleasant sleep."

"Thank you, Digory," she said with a small smile, feeling a strange pang of disappointment.

At his silence she turned to go down the hall. When he suddenly caught her by the sleeve, she turned back, puzzled and uncertain. Polly did not realize what was happening until she felt him pressing a kiss to her cheek. He pulled away quickly and flushed a bright red. He met her astonished gaze for a moment and then retreated to his room.

She gazed after him before slowly going the other way down the hall to her room. After blowing out the candle she climbed into the bed. Hugging the sheets to her chest, she pressed her fingers fleetingly to her cheek. Her nightmare forgotten, she drifted to sleep.

THE END