Peter went back to his cabin exhausted. After a night full of festivities and fun, he needed a break.
Peter practically collapsed on the bed he was so tired. He didn’t even mind that it was a bed and he hadn’t slept in one for years.
He woke to the sound of hushed voices. Peter’s back was turned away from his doorway, but he heard what sounded like 3 people whispering.
Peter opened his eyes and listened, trying to figure out who they were and what they were saying.
“He looks just like him, he could be the son of the man who killed my father.” one said.
But that voice sounded familiar. That’s when Peter realized it was Chris, who had welcomed them.
Who was he talking about? They were right outside Peter’s cabin, but then again, his neighbor on the side the voices were coming from was Richard.
That’s when Peter remembered something Skylar had said before she led them here. About a man who looked somewhat like Richard and left Skylar orphaned. If Chris was Skylar’s brother like Peter thought, that would mean his parents, too.
“He may well be,” another voice agreed, which sounded like one of Chris’ friends, “But we cannot be sure. Let us not forget that it was your sister who brought them into our home. If anything goes wrong with this boy, the fault will be hers and yours.”
“Perhaps we should ask the boy who his father is,” Another suggested.
As much as Richard annoyed Peter, Peter was stuck with him. And Peter didn’t know what these guys were planning to do with Richard, and he needed him on this quest.
So Peter did something he knew would blow Richard’s socks off if he were awake.
Peter crept over to the door on his left which led to the voices.
He opened it in a loud manner, to make him sound like something to be feared.
The boys in front of Richard’s cabin turned around in shock and fear, looking in Peter’s direction.
Peter knew he didn’t look like much, with his tattered clothes and skinny form. His hair was probably a disheveled mess and he knew his eyes didn’t look fully awake.
That’s when Peter noticed that one of the boys had a small knife.
“You know people are trying to sleep, right?” he half-heartedly joked, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice. He didn’t know what one of the boys could do with a knife.
Chris looked relieved that it was Peter standing there. “Peter!” he said, plastering a smile on his face, “What are you doing up?”
“Shall I ask why you are between my cabin and Richard’s?” Peter asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to seem annoyed and not scared.
Chris’ eyes narrowed as he realized what Peter meant. “How much did you hear?”
“Oh, enough.” Peter nodded, wrinkling his brow, “And as much as he annoys me to death, I don’t want to know what you were planning to do with him. You know, considering one of you has a knife.” Peter pointed to the knife in one of the boys’ hands.
“Look Peter,” Chris said, as he walked over slowly, his hands up in a harmless gesture, “You really shouldn’t have heard that…”
That’s when Peter punched him in the face.
Chris doubled over, holding his face as his friends tried to help him up, concerned.
“I’d suggest you leave before I break any of you ladies’ pretty faces,” Peter mocked, as Chris and his gang climbed down a ladder and out of sight.
As Peter turned away, he shook his hand, feeling his knuckles burn. It’d been a while since he’d punched somebody.
“I hope Skylar will forgive me tomorrow for punching her brother in the face, ‘cause he’s gonna have a mark.”
…
In the morning, as Peter was going to breakfast he saw Chris walk by.
He had a black eye.
Peter had a strange satisfaction.
Then he saw Skylar rush over to her brother and start worrying over him.
Chris brushed it off, though, and glanced for a moment at Peter. One look was all Peter needed that made him suddenly regret punching Chris. Chris was at least two years older and significantly taller than Peter’s scrawny frame.
Yet Peter had punched him. He’d punched him while standing up for Richard.
Richard of all people. Why would Peter stand up for someone he didn’t like at all?
Peter just brushed it off as the prophecy.
There was also another thing that had happened last night, and Peter remembered it clearly.
A nightmare.
Peter hated nightmares more than he hated Richard.
This one had to do with the prophecy. Peter saw himself bloody and bruised, looking like he’d just been beaten up.
“Pesky little boy,” Boromir’s rueful face spat.
Then, the scene changed to Alice being dragged away, kicking and screaming by two Dueglesteiners. Peter was being held by two Dueglesteiners as well, looking on helplessly.
The scene changed once again, to a woman’s pale face with purple eyes and black hair.
Follow your heart, her voice spoke in his mind even though her mouth didn’t move. You will find me.
Peter had woken up in a cold sweat, filled with more questions than answers. He’d never had a nightmare like that, which seemed so realistic and true. And who was that woman?
Peter could only guess...
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