Authors Note: to answer the question put to me by LilFlyergirl, no, Philip is not Peter. We'll find out more about Philip's mystery brother in the next chapter or two, so hang tight! =) Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far, please keep on, it makes me happy!
Wendy regretted storming out of the library in such a temper, but it was the proper thing to do. Philip's playful actions angered her. Even though his appearance and manners were generally proper and sufficiently 'grown-up', they had not been in the library. Had it been a few years ago, Wendy would have grabbed another broom and shown him how swordfights were done properly. But times had changed, and Wendy had to change as well.
It was most impossible to deny that Philip treated her the same way that Peter had - with a friendly candid nature, not held-back by manners, formalities, or rules. He seemed to know who and what she really was, without asking. It was unnerving, but at the same time, it was what Wendy desired best. A person who understood who and what she was, a person who asked no more or less of her. 'But why?' she wondered many times. She could not see what interested Philip in her, why he paid this special attention to her. It was another frustrating question that irked her, that had no answer.
After leaving the library, Wendy retreated to her room, and after trying to decide what to do for an hour, she wrote to her parents, telling them she had arrived safely, was enjoying her studies, and had made many new friends, which was a lie, but it would make her parents happy. She signed the letter 'cordially yours, Wendy'. She studied the signature gravely. 'Cordially yours, Wendy'. It seemed impersonal and cold, as the rest of the letter had been.
She carefully put the letter in an envelope, addressing and sealing it with the care she had not put into words inside the letter. And then she gazed idly out of her window, as she had done so many times and nights before. But the stars were difficult to see, and the moon was not visible.
-+-
Sunday morning dawned bright and cold, the snow was… wait, snow?! Wendy rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not seeing things – but there it was, pure, white, abundant snow, as far as her eyes could see. The snow brought a smile to her face, she had always loved snow! Many beloved memories of joy and happiness had snow in them… snowball fights, snowmen… but today was Sunday, which meant mass at the Catholic Church. Besides, why would she be interested in playing in the snow now, at her age? She was an almost fully-grown young woman! Playing was a waste of time.
Wendy closed her curtains to avoid seeing the snow, and then dressed quickly in her warmest dress, stockings, and hat, gently convincing herself that mass would be over in a few hours, and then she could at least admire the snow, perhaps taking a walk around the grounds.
The weather outside was divine. The air was crisp and cold, the snow dry and deep. All of the other children hurried past, seemingly liking the idea of mass more than Wendy did, paying little attention to the fallen snow. Wendy's pace was snail-like, her feet seemed to have minds of their own, and she stopped walking completely, and gazed around as the last of the children went into the church building. And then she saw it. The lake! She had not really noticed it before; before it looked like a small hollow in the land filled with grey water. But now it was frozen over, and clearly visible. And by the lake sat a tall, lanky figure with wild blonde hair... Philip. The one who deserved an apology from Wendy. Wendy looked at the dull stone church building. She looked at the lake where Philip seemed to be waiting for her arrival. The lake won.
'No one will even notice I'm gone.' She told herself, and made for the lake. As she drew closer to Philip, Wendy become nervous. What if he was angry with her? He would probably never speak to her again… but an apology was due, either way, and she would deliver it.
He must have heard her coming, for he turned, stood, and smiled.
"Good morning!" he said to her, his breath making little clouds of white in the cold morning air.
"Good morning." Wendy returned, and admired him for a moment. His cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were bright. His hair was tousled and uncombed, and he held something that looked like a sketchbook in his hands.
"Oh! Are you sketching?" Wendy asked curiously, avoiding her apology.
He nodded. Wendy thought he might show her what he sketched, but he made no move to show her, and feeling embarrassed, Wendy looked away. Even though the temperature was frigid, Wendy felt uncomfortably warm. Philip looked expectantly at her, a smile playing with his lips. She cleared her throat.
"I… I'm sorry... forbeingsorudetoyouyesterday." The words spilled out in a rushed jumble, and Philip's face was filled with mock-confusion.
"I'm sorry, didn't quite catch that."
"You heard what I said!" Wendy said, a grin splitting her face, laughter in her voice. Phillip grinned back, and Wendy knew she was forgiven.
"You weren't rude, Wendy," Phillip assured her, his face growing slightly more serious. "I'll try to behave my age around you,"
Wendy smiled.
"At least some of the time." He added, and before Wendy could move, he had launched a snowball at her. Where it had come from, Wendy could not tell, but she let out a shriek of surprise, grabbed some snow, and threw it at him without thinking. He laughed heartily.
"Why Wendy, you ought to be ash–" he began, but was cut short as a bigger snowball hit his chest.
"And you ought to prepare to defend yourself!" Wendy said threateningly, holding up another snowball, smiling widely. Philip set down his sketchbook slowly, carefully, gently…
And then launched another snowball at her. Wendy ducked and laughed outright, throwing a badly aimed snowball back. Philip let out a howl of mock-agony as he was hit in the shoulder. The rest of the morning dissolved into snowball fights and laughter, a thing that Wendy did not participate in wholeheartedly most of the time.
