[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.

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[sai_delgado]

She touches it lightly with her fingertips and lets it stay.

“What’s yer favorite time of year?” she asks, as they walk paths that wind through green grass and just-budding trees and flowers.

[the_seafarer]

"I was just going to ask you the same question," he chuckles.

"I like most times, I suppose. There was always something good about each season. But summer was the best for sailing, so that's always had a special place in my heart."

[sai_delgado]

Susan laughs. “For riding on the Drop, too,” she tells him. “Which is why it were always my favorite.”

[the_seafarer]

"We'll make sure you find plenty to love about winter, too," he promises.

"Ice skating and sleighing and snowball fights and all the rest."

[sai_delgado]

“I’m sure it’ll be wonderful,” she tells him, and oh, her certainty is clear. “Since thee love it so.”

[the_seafarer]

"You will, too," he promises, and squeezes her hand with a smile. "But for now – "

Confused bees drone around a bush thick with raspberries; he plucks a few and offers them to Susan.

[sai_delgado]

Remembering their first visit, she chooses one from his hand and holds it to his lips, mischief in her gaze.

[the_seafarer]

He laughs and bites up the berry, then kisses her fingertips.

"Just as sweet this time around," he observes.

[sai_delgado]

She colors a little, but her gaze is fond. “Thee has a way with words,” she observes. “And teasing, too.”

[the_seafarer]

"I only speak simple truth," he laughs, and lifts one of the berries to her own lips.

"See for yourself."

[sai_delgado]

She opens her lips to accept the berry, kissing his fingers as he’d kissed hers, filled with a fizzing, bubbly feeling at the playfulness between them.

[the_seafarer]

He chuckles, fond, and tips the remaining berries into her hand.

"I think the stream hasn't frozen over," he says. "Can you hear it?"

[sai_delgado]

“Aye,” she says, after a moment to listen. Susan eats another berry and offers him one.

“It’d have to be so cold to freeze, wouldn’t it hurt the plants?”

[the_seafarer]

He takes it with another smile and pops it into his mouth.

"Not for good, I should think," he says, looking around the garden. "I expect most of them will just... go to sleep. Drop their leaves and wait for spring."

[sai_delgado]

She shakes her head, marveling at it.

“Winter were never so in Mejis,” she tells him. “Oh, the leaves fell, aye, and things were brown, and cool, but nothing like this.”

[the_seafarer]

"I don't believe it got cold at all in Calormen," Caspian muses, leading her slowly over towards where he can hear the stream burbling away. "That's a desert country far south of Narnia: hot and dry almost all the time."

[sai_delgado]

“I like the warmth, but I’ve not ever heard good things of a desert.” She follows with a will, shading her eyes with her hand to look out over the garden.

[the_seafarer]

"Well – "

He's never happy far from water, but he tries to be fair. "Perhaps if one were to grow up there and were used to it, it might be more appealing?"

[sai_delgado]

“Mayhap,” she says, doubtfully. “It did awful things to Roland, though. But he were there for years.”

[the_seafarer]

Caspian shakes his head. "How the Calormenes live there I'll never know," he says. "There's a story of a lost prince of Archenland who had been stolen away and grew up there, and how a Talking Horse of Narnia brought him home again across the desert, but it always sounded a terrible ordeal."

[sai_delgado]

Susan makes a face. “I like the snow better.”

[the_seafarer]

"I do, too," Caspian laughs. "And I expect even the tree-sisters would have trouble growing their garden in a desert."

[sai_delgado]

“I can’t imagine they’d care for it at all,” she agrees.

The rippling stream is closer now, and still spring-bedecked with flowers and green, green grass. Susan turns their steps toward the bank.

[the_seafarer]

"Nor I."

He swings their hands loosely between them as they walk along toward the stream's bank. Small, silvery fishes flit between the ripples and rocks in the water, coming to the surface now and again to suck down an unfortunate insect.

[sai_delgado]

She’s quiet, walking beside him, but not the quiet of someone unhappy or lost in thought - nay, Susan’s just content to be in the moment, say true.

A spray of violets draws her eye, and she crouches to brush light fingers over their petals.