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Riley pumped the swing higher and higher, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut and pretended not to be scared because, now that he was seven, he couldn't be scared anymore. The swing got almost horizontal, and Riley still stood bravely, his feet planted on either side of Peter's hips and his fists gripping the ropes.
"I can see the next town from here!" Riley shouted above the rush of the wind. "Open your eyes, Penn!"
Peter couldn't do that. They were too high. "No."
"C'mon, Penn. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't." But, despite his insistence that courage was the only option, he allowed the swing to slow slightly.
Peter forced his eyes open and was greeted with the sun setting over the autumn hills, curls of smoke coming from stray houses and then the town to the west. "Oh ..."
"See?" The swing slowly drifted down, slower and slower, until they were looking only out over the sunset and not at the valley below. "Gawl, it's pretty, ain't it?"
Peter nodded. "Sunsets are the nicest of things."
"Next to dogs," Riley responded thoughtfully. At last the swing slowed and Peter planted his feet, allowing Riley to dismount safely. "Might as well go home and see if Aunt Lilli's got supper. I'm hungry."
Peter was hungry, too, but he sat still for a few minutes to take in the natural beauty before him.
"Comin', Penn?"
"Coming, Rye."