[au] an early snow

[the_seafarer]

It's only mid-autumn, as the Bar-year reckons, but one morning Caspian wakes early to find that the light coming through his window has that particular muted quality to it that only comes from sifting through clouds and a veil of snow.

And snow it is indeed, when he comes outside: it crunches pleasantly beneath his boots as his breath freezes in the air and his cheeks turn pink with the cold. Snow; and still it falls, silent and light.

He heads to the stables with the intention of finishing his chores quickly so he can let the horses out to frolic in it, whistling as he goes.

Comments

[the_seafarer]

Caspian looks pleased at the suggestion. "A fine idea, Su," he says.

They've been to the garden a few more times and introduced others to it as well, and each time the birch-lady seems a little more like a person and even the willow-lady seems nearly ready to speak. "Let's."

[sai_delgado]

Her smile brightens, and she leans forward and speaks to Ghost, urging him forward at the trot. It's not his most comfortable gait, but she's well able to sit it, and he's too restless for a walk to be enough at the moment.

"I'm curious as to how the snow'll look in the trees," she admits.

[the_seafarer]

"See for yourself," Caspian tells her, smiling, as they head towards the woods. It takes a little coaxing to get Corella into a trot to match Ghost, but she settles into it after a moment.

The the light, fluffy flakes have settled on every branch and twig and needle, providing stark contrast to the dark trees. Everything is muffled and silent under the blanket of snow that steadily coats the world.

[sai_delgado]

Susan gasps, softly - there's a strange sort of hush over the world, and she's hesitant to disturb it. Even the horses' hooves are muffled by the snow.

Absolute delight brightens the fog-gray eyes that shine above cold-pinked cheeks.

[the_seafarer]

He's watching her far more than the path, but Corella knows it and makes her way along with a steady, ambling trot.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

[sai_delgado]

"It's lovely," she breathes, and beams a delighted look at him. "Is this what it were like in Narnia, in winter?"

[the_seafarer]

"Lovely," he agrees, studying her pink cheeks and bright eyes, the way the snow catches on her braid where it lies against her coat.

His glance falls to the stallion, prancing through the drifting snow. "And Ghost seems to like it, too."

[sai_delgado]

"Oh, he's that pleased to be out and moving at all," she laughs, "but thee has the right of it, he's more playful than usual."

It's clear she doesn't mind, as she pats his neck before guiding him to the next twist of the trail.

[the_seafarer]

Corella is less enthused, but she goes anyway, Caspian holding her back to follow Susan along the narrower path until they reach the fork and the trail that leads to the garden.

[sai_delgado]

The path is familiar now, and Ghost takes it with ease and boundless energy. Susan promises him a full-out run later, and keeps him from bolting now as they come through the shifting forest.

“It feels warmer.” She glances at Caspian. “Do’ee think they keep the weather at bay?”

[the_seafarer]

He shakes his head, uncertain. "Who can say what they can do? I imagine they might want to settle for a winter's nap at some point, but as you said, it's not even harvest-time yet – if such things matter in this place."

He's not at all sure they do, and is even less sure as they follow the path, which steadily clears before them.

[sai_delgado]

As they reach the edge of the tree-sisters' garden, Susan catches her breath in surprise and reins Ghost to a halt.

"Look! Oh, Caspian, do'ee see?"

Snow is falling on part of the garden, the part that had shown autumn gourds and plants before, while other sections are still spring and summer.

"They've all the seasons at once!"

[the_seafarer]

His delight is just as immediate as hers as they come into the garden, as they see the miracle the tree-sisters had wrought. "By the Lion," Caspian says, astonished.

"I've never seen aught like it, Su, never."

[sai_delgado]

“It’s a wonder for certain.” She dismounts Ghost and leads him further in, walking carefully to stay to the cleared areas.

[the_seafarer]

Caspian follows suit, dismounting and leading Corella to a cleared space full of tender spring grass. The mare, pleased with this development, happily allows herself to be tethered and begins cropping at the shoots. "And look – "

He nods to the birch-woman, whose head is full now of bright yellow leaves instead of summer-green.

[sai_delgado]

She tethers Ghost in a grazing space of his own and turns to drop a curtsey to the birch woman, following it with a bright smile.

“Long days and pleasant nights, Lady Birch,” she calls.

[the_seafarer]

The tree-woman turns, slowly, and now Caspian is astonished there was ever a time when he didn't see a face in her branches and bark. A faint breeze rustles her leaves as she solemnly bows in return.

Welcome, comes her voice on the air. Welcome.

[sai_delgado]

“Yer gardens are lovely in the snow, say true,” Susan tells her. “And so clever to have them all year round at once!”

[the_seafarer]

Pleasure from the tree-woman. It is not time to sleep, she tells them. Not yet.

Caspian smiles at her. "We'll have a bit more warmth yet, I wager," he says. "Is it difficult, to keep this enchantment going?"

Amusement. Saplings, the birch-woman says, fond. This is my work.

[sai_delgado]

“When it is, we’ll be sure to see ye in the spring to follow,” Susan tells her. “Do ye and yer sisters sleep all at once?”

[the_seafarer]

Not all, the tree-woman whispers. There are those who prefer the deep woods, who stay awake in the cold. Pine, cedar, spruce, holly.

[sai_delgado]

“Then we’ll come see them too.”

Susan looks to Caspian. “Won’t we?”

[the_seafarer]

"We certainly shall," he promises, and reaches to lace his fingers with Susan's. "May we walk in your garden a little while, lady?"

[sai_delgado]

Enjoy, saplings, she tells them. We enjoy having you here.

Susan beams at her and squeezes Caspian’s hand. “Thankee-sai.”

[the_seafarer]

You are always welcome, the birch-lady tells them, and rustles her leaves, pleased, before gracefully gliding towards another part of the garden.