deepest_magic | the second occasion

Elizabeth looks around.

No more birds.

There is a bit of motion behind a tree over there, though.

"H-hello?" says Bella, on the theory that they are quite obvious to anyone who is better at forests than they are and will have better chances getting through any interaction with such a person by being reasonably friendly.

A furry long-toothed face peeks out from behind the tree, paw over its mouth in a hush gesture.

"...That is a beaver," murmurs Elizabeth. But she nods to the beaver, indicating receipt of the message.

Bella nods too, finger over her lips.

The beaver tiptoes out more visibly, and makes a come on motion with a forepaw, and then lumbers beaverishly off in loosely the same direction the robin was leading them.

Bella sighs and follows the beaver, continuing her map at intervals.

Elizabeth likewise follows.

Eventually the beaver has led them to a spot where four trees grow so close together that there is only just room for one beaver and two children to stand together.

"Are you the Daughters of Eve?" whispers the beaver. "Quietly, quietly."

"As far as I can tell, yes we are," murmurs Elizabeth.

"What are we being quiet for?" whispers Bella.

"The trees, there are a few about who might betray us to her," says the beaver.

"And we know that you would do no such thing because -?"

"I spoke to Tumnus before he was arrested and he asked me to meet you if anything happened to him - but he had no distinctive token to offer," apologizes the beaver. "I am afraid I'm quite unable to prove it."

"...I think I believe you," says Elizabeth. (She wouldn't have believed a physical token anyway, but sees no need to get into that.)

"Why?" Bella asks.

The beaver's whiskers twitch nervously.

"It's hard to explain. I just - I get a sense of people, and the sense I get of this beaver is that he's okay."

"Okay," says Bella.

"And -" says the beaver. "They say Aslan is on the move."

A curious sensation comes over Bella at the name Aslan. As though she has a tremendous quantity of interesting things to do, no end in sight, and time to do all of it yet without ever running out of time or activity.

And she smiles.

The feeling Elizabeth gets is different. A kind of contemplative excitement - like she's about to do something challenging and fascinating, expects to be able to handle it, and anticipates good results.

She smiles, too. And starts a file on Aslan, with that feeling as the first item listed.

"Do you know what's happened to Tumnus?" Bella asks.

"Oh - not here, I must bring you somewhere safe where we can talk properly," says the beaver, wringing his paws. "And dinner."

"Sounds good," says Elizabeth. "Lead the way."

The beaver nods and scurries off, leading them through the trees until they have come to a frozen river, across which has been built a dam now thoroughly frosted with icicles. In the middle of the dam is a sort of house, with smoke coming out of the chimneytop.

"Oh," says Bella, admiringly. "This looks nice."

"Very cozy," says Elizabeth.

"And it looks like Mrs. Beaver is expecting us. I'll lead the way; you step carefully and don't slip."

"Erm," says Bella. "I'm practically guaranteed to slip - maybe I'd do better on my hands and knees, I suppose."

"As you like," agrees the beaver, and he leads them across the top of the dam to the house.

Bella sighs and crawls, glad of her mittens.

Elizabeth follows behind Bella, prepared to catch her in case of accident.

Bella makes it to the house without incident except for dampening the knees of her jeans on the ice.

In the house is a second beaver, sitting at a sewing machine with a thread in her mouth. She stops sewing as soon as the girls have entered. "So you've come at last!" she exclaims. "At last! To think I should have lived to see this day. The potatoes are boiling and the kettle's singing and I daresay Mr. Beaver will get us some fish."

"That I will," agrees the beaver, and he goes back out again with a pail.

Bella sits down, looking around at the onions and hams hanging from the ceiling and the general not-a-century-of-winter-ness of the provisions available.

It's interesting, that's for sure. As is Mrs. Beaver and her sewing machine. Elizabeth looks curiously at what she was working on.

She appears to have been putting a patch in a dishtowel.

"Here, if you'd be so kind as to help me we'll have supper in a jiffy," says Mrs. Beaver, and she directs the girls to various kitchen tasks. Mr. Beaver is back soon with fish, which are presently sizzling away.

"Can I ask you something?" Bella says to Mrs. Beaver.

"Of course."

"I can guess where the fish is coming from, because fish can live under ice, but where'd the rest of the food come from?"

"The ham was a trade for some fish - there are some dwarves a bit west who grow mushrooms deep underground where it's cool but not so terribly frigid, and the pigs can eat those and a few scraps and be quite happy about it and then there are hams - and the vegetables and the butter and so on are all from the cornucopia, which visited us just last month and if the cold does us no other favors at least it will let things keep."

"...A visiting cornucopia," repeats Bella.

"Oh, without it more of us would be working for the Witch's promises of provisions," shudders Mrs. Beaver. "Not us, we'd never, but the odd soul might."

"I see," murmurs Elizabeth. "It's a good thing there is one, then - is there just one, or are there more? How are the visits arranged?"

"Only one. It was the Last Present," sighs Mr. Beaver. "There's a sort of a schedule, but it's variable because of course the Witch's agents are always chasing the bearer."

"The Last Present?" asks Bella, sensing capital letters.

"Before there was no Christmas anymore."

"You know, that's confusing, too," says Bella. "You obviously don't care to do what the Witch says. Why not just celebrate Christmas on some day or other even if there isn't an official one, if you like?"

The beavers blink at her in confusion.

"I think they do Christmas differently here," says Elizabeth. "At home people give each other presents, things we buy or make, but it sounds like the Last Present came from somewhere."

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