The sound of warplanes filled the air. The sound of their monstrously powerful engines, their propellers slicing through the air at breakneck yet calculated speeds, their dropped bombs decimating cities and obliterating innocent lives, their lethal guns taking down enemies with precision. aim, cock, fire, aim, cock, fire, aim, cock, fire...

Aim. ("Set position?" "Roger.")

Cock. ("Target locked?" "Affirmative.")

Fire. (... :BOOM:)

Bruno grinned. How he would have loved to be a war pilot, fighting the bad guys as he soared through the sky. But for now, as Maria said, he would have to be content with his imagination. With running through the forest, jumping over roots and fallen branches all the way to the camp where Schumel was. Bruno really couldn't wait to see his friend and tell him about the new clothes his grandmother had sent him - there was more than he thought he needed for himself - so that he could have more than striped pyjamas. Because he is, Bruno knew now. Him and all the other people at the camp. They were all more than their single pair of blue garments. Bruno used to think that they were farmers, or just workers, servants even that never bothered to bathe or change into other attire. But they weren't. The adults, Schumel, all of them - they were more than striped pyjamas to him now. Because in a couple days, if all went according to plan...Bruno would be one of them too.

He ran with outspread arms, occasionally imitating the noises the warplanes made as they shot over his house, sometimes too fast to stay in view for little boys that liked to rush over to the window or out from under a tree and marvel at their rush of power. As he neared the edge of the forest, he had a strange feeling, as he was being watched. He shivered but ignored it, and could soon see the fence that separated the camp from his backyard. But a moment later, he heard something stirring. Something that wasn't himself. Never before had he encountered anyone - or anything in the quiet forest. But there it was again, a rustling from behind a thick bush. His heart started to race as he cautiously approached it. The clearing was close now, and he figured he would be able to make a run for it if the person wasn't very friendly.

"Hello?" he called warily.

"It's alright," he gently assured them, considering now that the person might be timid and dash off in a fright if they thought he was intimidating in any way.

"I'm a friend."

Nothing but another rustle, and now that he listened closer, a low growl. Hastily backtracking, Bruno scooted around a tree. He instantly made up his mind to give up going to see Schumel today; he valued scrambling back to the safety of his house over delivering clothes. But as he turned to avoid the tree, a dark figure exploded out of the bushes with a horrible snarl. In his alarm, he tripped over the root of the very tree he had attempted to sidestep and tumbled backwards onto the ground, exposed and vulnerable. The little boy clenched his eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

Then he heard a giggle. Confused as to why a savage something-in-the-bush would be laughing instead of ripping into his soft tummy, he tentatively opened his eyes and saw his sister grinning back at him.

"Gretel?! You really are a Hopeless Case! A terrible, good-for-nothing brat! I hate you, Gretel. That wasn't funny." He bit back the tremor of his bottom lip and exhaled, relieved but angry.

"You should go back home, you're not supposed to be here," Gretel scolded.

"Neither are you! ...How did you get here in the first place?"

"I followed you, idiot. And I'm not leaving. If I go home, I'm telling Mother and Father that you've been lying and prancing through the forest out back instead of staying put on your tire swing." Gretel quite enjoyed feeling superior towards her little brother.

"But- But how di-"

"I have a window. Duh."

Oh, well that explained why Bruno felt that he was being watched and followed. He looked up as a bird flew overhead and noticed that the sun was getting lower. Now that there was no longer any threat of being eaten, Bruno needed to get to Shmuel before it was time for him to go back to the buildings. He really wanted Gretel to leave so that she wouldn't know where he was going. Maybe, he thought, if he tell her about the pretty little creek he saw a while back, she'd go away. Changing tactics and trying to be lit, Bruno started telling her all about the little rivers that were found through the forest. He said that there were minnows as well as shells on the bed of the streams. Gretel, wanting to prove her brother wrong turned to traipse into the woods and find out if there were actually fish and shells.

"Are you going to find a stream?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, and to prove you wrong! Why would there be fish in a forest?"

"Alright, bye then Gretel."

Even if there weren't any minnows, the way Bruno had described it, the sparkling water would be ever so pretty. She wouldn't want to miss seeing them before it was too late, would she? Gretel started to dash off in the direction her brother was pointing, and then caught herself, lifted her skirts, and stepped daintily towards the "breathtaking stream".

Meanwhile, Bruno was already sprinting up to the fence to meet Schumel (who had been awaiting his arrival for quite some time now) and the other people inside, the people whom he had to keep reminding himself were not really farmers. He got to Schumel just moments before the latter was called away by a sharp whistle and shouts as he always was. The two young boys exchanged a few words, Bruno tossed his package of clothes over the top of the fence into his friend's waiting arms, and both parted, rushing off in opposite directions towards their respective guardians.

As he ran, Bruno repeated to himself:

No one but me may know, but they are people too.

No one but me may know, but I will be one of them soon.

No one but me may know, but we are more than striped pyjamas.