A/N: Breathe. There's good in the world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for.

Chapter 7-Interruptions

Early morning in Narnia was always beautiful, but Canisp had never before realized just how lovely it really was. The pale, early-morning light glittered gently off the new-fallen snow and made the glassy icicles glow with mystical pinks and oranges. The bare Trees were black silhouettes against the lovingly painted sky, and the Birds were just beginning to wake, singing softly to one another.

Of course, the graphite-colored wolf at her side contributed greatly to her sense of well-being. After the confrontation with Maugrim two weeks before, something had changed in the relationships of the little group of friends. Jenga, for one, had finally stopped glaring at Mercury whenever he came within three feet of her sister. In fact, she had walked up to him one day, out of the blue, and grudgingly admitted,

"I guess you're all right. You risked your life for Canisp. And I suppose…" She paused, looking like she was about to bite into a fish gone sour. "I suppose you're good… you're not bad for Firebird. You'll take care of her, and I guess…well, I guess I can see why she likes you, even if I don't." With that glowing commendation, she had added "You'd better not prove me wrong!" and stalked off.

The lovers in question were asleep a few yards away, in a relatively snow-free spot under a spreading Pine. Each had their head resting on the other's back. As Canisp watched them, a small clump of snow fell out of the tree and onto Mercury's nose. His nose twitched and he snorted in his sleep, but he didn't wake up.

A low, quiet chuckle to her left made Canisp look around. Thor was awake, and had evidently noticed the snowdrop. His eyes met hers for the barest fraction of a second before he politely refocused on her shoulder. "You're awake," he whispered.

Canisp's eyes widened. "I am?" she whispered back.

Thor laughed quietly and cuffed her lightly with his muzzle. "You're so sarcastic in the mornings."

"Thank you."

"Good morning to you, too." He hesitated for a moment, and then quickly licked behind her ear. She blinked, surprised, then smiled and rested her head on his paws.

Canisp didn't quite know how to describe what had changed between her and Thor. She supposed, if she wanted to be poetic, she would say it had blossomed into something more. But this didn't quite seem to be the correct description. Nor did it fit into the other traditional description of an invisible barrier falling away. It was more as if they had suddenly realized that there was no barrier, and never had been.

By the Lion, she had it bad. Well, as long as she was clearly not in her right mind…

"Thor?" she murmured, lifting her head off his paws. For a moment, she tucked her head under his, eyes closed, but then she pulled back so she could look him in the eye. For some reason, he didn't mind eye contact when she initiated it. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth…

And had it promptly filled with a large amount of snow.

Spluttering and blinking snow out of her eyes, she looked blindly for her assailant.

"Jenga!" said Thor. "What in the name of-"

"Rise and shine, lovebirds!" sang the reddish wolf. She spun around and tugged on a low branch of Firebird and Mercury's tree, sending a cascade of snow tumbling onto them. "You, too, Meya," she added as an afterthought.

"I hate you," muttered Firebird, picking her way gingerly out from under her tree.

"With a vengeance," agreed Canisp.

Meya, who like Mercury and Firebird had taken shelter under a low-branched Pine, stretched leisurely and yawned. She stepped out into the world with great dignity, carefully pushing a branch out of her way.

The movement dislodged a great deal of snow on the upper branches, which fell on her with a muffled whump.

"It snowed again last night," she announced serenely, which made the others laugh.

"So, Jenga," said Mercury, shaking snow out of his fur. "Why exactly are we awake?"

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's because she woke us up," muttered Firebird, who was not a morning person.

"Our hunting release only lasts until tonight," Jenga reminded them. "And I for one don't feel like being chewed out by a dominant for cutting it too close. I've never lead a hunting party before!"

Unfortunately, she had a valid point; a hunting release lasted eight days, and today was the eighth. And so the six wolves made their way back to the home pack.

Thanks to Jenga's wake-up call, they were back before the sun had fully risen. They checked in with Kosovar (Jenga ducked behind Firebird and kept her face hidden) and hurriedly rejoined the subordinates. Meya immediately hurried over to a young snow-laden Cherry Tree that looked about to snap from the weight and began knocking snow off the branches. She was in such a hurry that she failed to notice the young runner curled up under said tree, and ended up dumping a great deal of snow on his head. He leapt to his feet and, being an adolescent male, promptly retaliated by flinging snow at the first person he saw.

Mercury and Firebird, who had been innocently sitting nearby, were thus involuntarily entered into an impromptu snowball war. Jenga laughed and, looking happier than she had in ages, rushed in to help them.

A word on Narnian snowball fights: They are truly something to see. In the old days, they could last for up to a week, until there was no snow left on the ground in all of Narnia. All the creatures—Fauns, Dwarves, Talking Beasts, even the Kings and Queens—would eventually join in the anarchy. Of course, since the White Witch had taken over, there was much less enjoyment taken from snow, but that didn't mean that a snowball skirmish didn't break out here or there once in a while. The Wolves, devoid of hands, kicked snow in each others' faces and took running slides to throw up tidal waves of the stuff; the Dryads, once they'd woken, threw snowballs. Incredibly, in all the joyous confusion of flying snow, not one snowball hit Meya, who had now moved on to a young Willow. This miracle probably had something to do with the curious tendency of swaying twigs to flick out randomly into the path of any incoming snow, knocking it harmlessly away whenever it approached a certain cinnamon-striped she-wolf.

Meya was dearly loved by more than just Canisp.

Thor and Canisp had guarded Mercury and Firebird's backs for a while, but a rush of enthusiastic youngsters had finally forced them to make a tactical retreat to the far side of a nearby hill, where the only danger was in sticking one's head over the top. Snowballs still flew over their heads from time to time, but they were relatively safe.

Canisp sighed. "It's going to take forever to get my feathers dry," she lamented, beating her wings experimentally.

An expertly-packed snowball soared majestically over the crest of the hill and landed squarely on her forehead.

Thor laughed. Canisp shook the snow out of her eyes and snorted a few times to clear her nostrils, and he laughed more. "That one Pine was being a bit overenthusiastic, I think," he mused.

"How could you tell who was throwing which snowball?" asked Canisp incredulously. "I couldn't see a thing!"

Thor tried and failed not to smile. "You have a twig in your fur," he explained, nudging the small branch off her back. She laughed and lightly licked his cheek. He blinked, then grinned and flopped down into the snow. He rolled over a few times, then righted himself and sneezed.

Canisp rolled her eyes good-naturedly and lay down next to him. Thor's head was resting on his paws, and she rested her head on hers as well. Thor met her smiling eyes, and for once he didn't look away.