I reread the "Witch of Blackbird Pond" which reminded me of how much I loved it in the first place, so I just had to sit down and write some fanfiction. The characters don't really speak the same way they do in the book, but that's just because I'm bad at using "tis" and "thee" without making it sound too... old-timey, I guess. :P But I do hope you'll like it.

Disclaimer: Characters and book belong to Elizabeth George Speare.

Wethersfield was beautiful in the spring, but not, to Nathaniel Eaton's mind, as beautiful as the young woman sitting beside him.

"This is why I didn't leave," Kit sighed as she leaned against Nat, finding comfort in his presence.

"Because of me?" Nat teased slyly, basking in the feel of Kit pressed against him. The way she nestled in his arms felt right in a way that was unexplainable, much as the beauty of spring – words didn't do it justice.

Kit laughed. "No, I didn't leave Wethersfield because of spring."

"You mean to say I did not matter at all? You would have just picked up and went back to Barbados without me?" Nat protested, his voice half-serious, half-mocking. He plucked a bright yellow flower and twirled it between his fingers thoughtfully. "Do tell me, Kit, though, what it is you love so much about spring." Kit smiled at him.

"It…it reminded me of hope," Kit began, her voice hushed. "Winter was so dreary and dark, and I could not bear it. There was nothing but sewing to do, nothing to look at but white and the logs of the fireplace. But then spring came, and it painted the meadow and the sky. There was something magical about it. Just when I thought I could take it no more, that I had to leave, it came, like a breath of fresh air. Spring reminded me that even in the harshest conditions, in the end something beautiful and breathtaking could appear."

"Like the rainbow after the rainstorm," supplied Nat, fiddling with a lock of her hair. Kit quieted and blushed.

"What is it?" Nat asked.

"Oh, nothing," Kit rushed hurriedly. "It is such a silly little thing after all."

"No, no, tell me," Nat insisted. Kit took a breath.

"It's just that, whenever I think of the sky, or the sea, or a storm, I think of your eyes," she began. "Oh, that sounded so silly."

"No," said Nat, swallowing a smile, "I must say, I never knew you thought of me like that. You must have thought of me often, then, since you thought of sunny skies and the sea so much…" he trailed off, grinning wickedly.

"Oh, you!" Kit blushed furiously, sitting upright once more. "Must you mock me so?"

"If it eases your mind, I thought often of you, too," Nat said, turning so his blue eyes bored into Kit.


"Whenever I thought of the meadow. All those flowers growing in wild abandon reminded me of you – bounding with spirit, beautiful and joyous, uncontained."

"Maybe that is why I felt so at home in the meadow. The meadow flowers were my kith and kin," teased Kit, playing along. "And if I am so uncontained, I needn't be here with you now, because the meadow belongs to no one," she added with a good-natured smile.

"No, the meadow belongs to no one, but this particular flower belongs to me," said Nat, slipping his arm around Kit's waist as he pressed a deep kiss on her smiling mouth.

Leave me a review if you want me to continue! :)