The house, when they check, is gone without a trace, only empty fence marking where it once was. The fence comes down. On the assurances of Father Christmas, inhabitants of Robinsong put a cranberry bog there once the seasons have sufficiently turned to allow the installations of such things.
James authorizes an expedition of flying creatures to map poorly explored border territory, mentions the opportunity to Flit, and receives delighted routine reports from the adorably excited winged horse as the creatures make their way over the mountains and subsequent desert.
The population has been getting bigger, and a few different citizens have objected to it being hard to get water in a straightforward manner without running into everyone and their cousin doing the same thing. Isabella finagles an agreement between two river gods and a clan of beavers and soon there is a big lake where previously there was not much of anything except one tree belonging to a dryad (carefully replanted elsewhere out of harm's way), which provides more edge area to the water supply and makes it easier for everyone to go collect what they need.
(It's also a pretty good fishing lake, after a few months. Isabella goes and does this once out of pure nostalgia.)
James investigates the Narnian state of sex education after some dithering about that, and is told by this and that creature that "we have our own way of handling things, we [leopards/dwarves/dryads/satyrs/giants/centaurs/rabbits/unicorns/monkeys], and it is working quite well and we don't see what [lions/fauns/naiads/river gods/badgers/griffins/rats/winged horses/otters] could do with knowing our ways". The matter is dropped.
The schools are still running. Isabella's little knife proves to have quite the unrealistic arsenal when waved near leather or wood or fabric but her new interest this year, quite unrelatedly, turns out to be the harp, which a naiad teaches. She has a simple piece ready to perform on Queensday.
no subject
James authorizes an expedition of flying creatures to map poorly explored border territory, mentions the opportunity to Flit, and receives delighted routine reports from the adorably excited winged horse as the creatures make their way over the mountains and subsequent desert.
The population has been getting bigger, and a few different citizens have objected to it being hard to get water in a straightforward manner without running into everyone and their cousin doing the same thing. Isabella finagles an agreement between two river gods and a clan of beavers and soon there is a big lake where previously there was not much of anything except one tree belonging to a dryad (carefully replanted elsewhere out of harm's way), which provides more edge area to the water supply and makes it easier for everyone to go collect what they need.
(It's also a pretty good fishing lake, after a few months. Isabella goes and does this once out of pure nostalgia.)
James investigates the Narnian state of sex education after some dithering about that, and is told by this and that creature that "we have our own way of handling things, we [leopards/dwarves/dryads/satyrs/giants/centaurs/rabbits/unicorns/monkeys], and it is working quite well and we don't see what [lions/fauns/naiads/river gods/badgers/griffins/rats/winged horses/otters] could do with knowing our ways". The matter is dropped.
The schools are still running. Isabella's little knife proves to have quite the unrealistic arsenal when waved near leather or wood or fabric but her new interest this year, quite unrelatedly, turns out to be the harp, which a naiad teaches. She has a simple piece ready to perform on Queensday.
Christmas, as always, comes again in its time.