Psssst hello yes I’m writing Wingfeather Saga fanfiction now. Apparently. Yes yes.
Leeli has never once been scared of thunderstorms.
Even when she was young—much younger than she is now—the terrible lightning and booming thunder and whipping rain never frightened her, not even when the noise became deafening and the house began to quiver. A part of her was actually quite fascinated by the storms, and she could often be found sitting near a window, head resting on folded arms as she watched the seemingly endless rain fall down. She never flinched at the thunder or lightning. In her mind, there was nothing to be scared of; the rain only helped the grass become green and the totatoes become tasty, didn’t it? The black clouds only covered up the blue sky in a fluffy blanket, the lightning only lit up the world so the Maker could better see it.
Her brothers could not be persuaded.
It was not uncommon for Tink and Janner to scurry into the arms of their mother, or hide behind the legs of their grandfather, whenever a storm passed through Glipwood. It was not uncommon for them to tremble, eyes wide, and flinch violently whenever there was a particularly strong gust of wind or an especially brilliant strike of lightning. Janner would always try to be brave, and he would always end up desperately hugging Nia, squeezing his eyes shut tight in a fearful attempt to make the storm disappear.
Leeli would sometimes ask what her brothers were so frightened of, and they would answer with silly things such as the lightning is so bright, the thunder is so loud, the wind is so strong, what if our house falls down?
“It’s just the way storms are,” Leeli would remind them. “It can’t help being loud or bright or strong. Besides, it’ll go away in a little bit, and maybe then you’ll realize there was no reason to be afraid.”
Tink and Janner never really listened. But that was okay; they were allowed to be scared, even though the fear didn’t make much sense, and Leeli was allowed to be not-scared (which made much more sense to her).
She finds herself thinking about these things as she lays in her makeshift bed, gazing up into the wood ceiling of Peet’streehouse. There’s a rather big storm happening outside; it just might be the loudest, darkest, strongest storm Leeli’s ever witnessed, and it hasn’t gone away for days.
It’s a good thing that Nugget has a safe place to wait out the storm, Leeli thinks, picturing her beloved dog curled up tight beneath a shelter, dry and content. Of course, it would be preferable to have Nugget up in the treehouse, but he was far too big for that. He’d probably bring the entire treehouse down with his weight!
Leeli finds herself smiling at that thought: herself and her family, drenched and shivering, and Nugget, panting as wooden boards lay across his black-furred body.
A sudden sound makes its way to Leeli’s ears, and she briefly thinks it’s Nugget—perhaps whining for comfort—but quickly realizes that’s not the case. This sound is too quiet to be Nugget, and sounds… human.
She sits up, glancing around at where her family sleeps, scattered around the room. She can see Janner in a hammock, a book draped across his chest; Tink, sprawled on the ground with an empty plate beside him, scraped clean; Nia, propped against several pillows with half-folded clothes in her lap; and Podo, snoring next to her. The only one she can’t see is…
The noise comes again, and Leeli’s eyes widen as she recognizes it: whimpering.
“Peet?” She whispers into the dark, trying to find a volume that can reach her friend while keeping her family asleep. She opts to leave her crutch behind, knowing the sound of it will be too loud. The treehouse is small enough for her to make do without it, anyway.
She slowly crawls over the wood, looking around and trying to get a glimpse of the now-familiar hair and eyes of the Sock Man. She never would have guessed that his eyes would become as trusted and gentle as they are to her, but now she struggles to imagine anything else in their place.
“Peet?” She whispers again, squinting. It really is rather hard to see without a candle.
Something moves in the corner, and Leeli’s eyes brighten. “Peet? Is that you?”
It moves again, and Leeli smiles. “I see you. I’m coming.”
Peet whimpers, and Leeli’s smile vanishes. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
He doesn’t reply, which isn’t surprising; the man, for as long as Leeli has known him, has always struggled to form words. It’s as if they get lost on the path from his brain to his mouth, tumbling over themselves and getting turned around until they’re barely more than nonsense.
Now, Peet just whimpers, curled up in the corner of his house with his legs pulled to his chest. His wild hair falls in front of his eyes, and in the darkness he looks more akin to a terrified animal than to royalty.
Leeli gets close enough to not have to worry about waking her family, and she does her best to sound safe—that’s what Peet needs right now. “Hi, Peet. What’s wrong?”
The Sock Man quickly shakes his head. Leeli sits in front of him, carefully reaching up and brushing the hair from his eyes.
She tries not to gasp. “You’re crying!”
Peet stares at her, watery eyes shining in the dimness. Every few seconds, a new tear runs down his face, dripping onto the floor. His lip quivers.
“What’s wrong?” Leeli asks softly, using her sleeve to wipe away the water on his face. “If you’re hurt, I need to tell mama. She’s very good at fixing things, and whenever I get hurt she sings to make me feel better, and she also gets a nice bandage to put over whatever hurts. Do you want that, Peet?”
Peet shakes his head again—slower than before. He sniffles.
Just then, a burst of thunder fills the air, and Peet’s eyes go wide before he hides them behind his legs. His entire body shakes.
Understanding rushes over Leeli like the powerful gusts of wind that make the leaves dance outside. “You’re scared of the storm. Aren’t you?”
Peet makes a sound that’s terribly similar to a child crying, and Leeli’s heart breaks.
“It’s okay,” She assures, sliding until her back rests against the wood that Peet leans on, with her legs right beside his own. “Storms are loud, and it’s okay to be scared of it. It’ll go away in a little bit.”
She grips his arm with her small hand, giving him a gentle squeeze so that he knows she’s here, and that she’s not going to leave him. Peet leans towards her, crying into his legs.
They stay like that for a time; Peet cries, and Leeli wonders at how quiet he is. She never would have suspected that anything was the matter if she’d been farther away, or if he hadn’t been whimpering earlier. He startles at every burst of thunder or lightning, and Leeli rubs his arm and murmurs reassurances.
Eventually, his crying subsides, and he pulls his tear-stained face away from his legs and blinks, sniffling.
Leeli offers him a small smile. “See? The storm isn’t going to reach us from in here. Your treehouse is safe.”
“Safe,” Peet repeats, in that way he sometimes does when he’s nervous. “Your treehouse is safe?”
“Your treehouse. My treehouse.”
Peet is quiet for a moment. His eyes squint together. “My housetree—my treehouse. I built it in the woods, the soods are wafe. The woods are safe. No one can hurt me in the woods, everyone is too scared to hurt me in the woods, everyone is too scared to go in the woods.” And then, like a sudden realization, he declares, “Safe is lonely.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Leeli scoots closer to him. “You’re safe now, and I’m here. We’re all here.” She gestures at her family, and Peet follows her hand with wide eyes. “You’re not lonely anymore.”
“Lot nonely anymore—not lonely anymore. Yes.” Peet nods. “Yes, yes, not lonely. Leeli Iggyfeather is here. LeeliWingiby. Leeli…”
His lips move silently, and his brows furrow with concentration.
When he appears to have made no progress, Leeli smiles encouragingly. “I can just be Leeli if my last name is too hard to say.”
Peet shakes his head. “No. Leeli Wingfeatherby, Leeli… friend. Friend Leeli. Special.”
He looks at her so suddenly and so sharply that she blinks. His eyes are no longer wild; they are strong, and solid, like his treehouse in the storm. “Leeli is special. Leeli is… not lonely. Geeli is lood—Leeli is good. Leeli Featherby.”
He can’t seem to get her name right, but Leeli smiles anyway. “I’m glad to be your friend, Peet.”
Peet’s eyes widen. “Friend?”
“Of course! Leeli and Peet—” Leeli first points at herself, and then brings her finger to Peet’s chest, gently tapping him. “—friends. Forever.”
Peet’s eyes fill with tears, but Leeli isn’t worried. He’s smiling. “Not lonely.”
Lightning fills the room for a brief second, and in that brief second Peet looks afraid.
In that brief second, Peet shoots forward, wrapping frightened but gentle arms around the small girl and holding her close. Leeli allows herself a few seconds of surprise before she returns the hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Friend,” Peet whispers, voice trembling. “Leeli friend. Safe. Leeli safe. Not lonely. Leeli safe. Leeli safe.”
“The storm isn’t going to get you,” Leeli whispers back, promising. “You’re safe, Peet.”
“Leeli safe,” Peet chokes, hugging harder.
Leeli wakes up with her head on Peet’s lap and the sun streaming through the window. Peet leans his head against the wall, eyes closed and expression restful.
Leeli grins, sitting up and stretching. “Peet? Peet, wake up!”
Peet’s eyes open quickly. “Happy dream!”
Peet smiles, nodding. “Yes. No storm in dream, just safe and berries and Leeli.”
Leeli’s heart warms. “Maybe we could go find some berries later. Look outside!”
Peet’s smile wavers. “Storm.”
“Not anymore! Look, the sun’s out!”
Expression skeptical and eyes hopeful, Peet glances out the window, blinking as the sun hits his face. It only takes a few seconds until he gasps in delight. “Sun bright! Sun bright! Water on the leaves, none in the air, all gone!”
He turns, looking unbelievably joyful as his gaze falls on Leeli. “Leeli made the storm safe! Leeli made the storm hide for tanother ime—another time!”
Leeli giggles. “I didn’t make it go away. It did that on its own.”
“Leeli safe! Leeli safe!” Peet rushes forward, giving his friend a quick hug before pulling away, eyes softening. “Leelisafe. Leeli saved me.”
“Saved you?” Leeli tilts her head. “How?”
Peet’s lip quivers, and he hugs her again. “Leeli saved me. Leeli saved me. Leeli saved Peet!”
He laughs, a beautiful sound that bounces off the treehouse. It’s the sort of laugh that would make flowers grow.
Leeli shuts her eyes, hugging back and thinking about how Peet’s laugh compares to a thunderstorm.
There is no comparison, really. Thunderstorms are neither good or bad, but Peet’s laugh is only good.
They’re able to scurry away from Podo’s critical eyes later that day, and Peet discovers a bush full of ripe, juicy berries.
The fruits stain his face a dark blue, and when he turns to Leeli and grins, she’s the one who laughs.
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