Only Peter doesn’t eat, smiling serenely at the frenzy. When she finally slows enough to take a breath and properly look around, she sees Peter isn’t the only one not eating after all. Timothy is nowhere to be seen, and Rufus sits miserably at the edge of the fire’s light, arms wrapped around himself. He’s bare-chested and his ribs press against his skin. There’s a hollowness to him, and the way he holds himself makes her think he’s fighting his own hunger, fighting with himself not to join the feast.

As if her attention draws his, Peter turns to look at Rufus as well. His expression goes through a rapid, flickering change that has nothing to do with the shifting, tricky light of the fire— mischievous, then calculating.

“What’s the matter, Rufus? Why aren’t you eating?” Peter’s voice is sickly-sweet, coaxing, as if he genuinely cares about Rufus and his well-being.

“Not hungry.” Rufus shakes his head, a violent motion. He rocks his body, arms still wrapped around himself, refusing to look up at Peter.

The meat in her stomach turns, fear unsettling her, and she’s afraid she’ll bring it all up again.

“That can’t be true,” Peter says. His smile, like his voice, is honey, but the light in his eyes is dangerous. “It smells so good.”

He tears a piece of meat free, straight from the boar in a way that should burn his skin but doesn’t. He steps closer to Rufus, waving the meat under his nose. Rufus turns his head away, and the firelight catches tears welling in his eyes that he struggles not to let fall.

“I think Rufus feels bad for the boar!” Peter crows the words, turning to flash a grin at the gathered circle of boys, who now shuffle uncertainly around him.

Tension strings the air. She feels it. A storm about to break, something terrible about to happen. Even though she swallowed it all, the meat feels as though it’s sitting in her throat, a lump making it impossible to speak, making it hard to breathe.

“I think Rufus likes boars so much that perhaps he’d rather be one than be a boy. What do you think?”

Peter’s smile is triumphant. His eyes glitter, waiting for a response from his crowd.

“I think…” Arthur hesitates. For all his bluster earlier, she sees uncertainty in him now. This game has rules none of them but Peter understand, and all the boys feel themselves on dangerous ground.

“I think.” Arthur clears his throat, making his voice louder, borrowing confidence from Peter’s encouraging gaze on him and standing straighter. “I think that Rufus should be a boar, and we should hunt him.”

Arthur darts a tentative look at Peter, waiting for approval.

“Yes!” Peter claps his hands again. “Excellent idea.”