The Fox & The Crow

Chapter Three

"And Mr. Tumnus's home was tucked away in the corner of a mountain!" Lucy lifts her arms in the air, describing for the fourth time this morning the dream she'd had. "If you looked away, even for a second, you would lose it because it was so well hidden by snow."

Everyone at the breakfast table hums in response. I glance down at my biscuit as I sip my tea, a guilty shame nestling in the pit of my stomach. I want to be interested in Lucy's stories, but she's already told us every meticulous detail of this fairytale for five days now. And the Macready (she's been leaving more frequently on "grocery runs"), the household staff (they now lock the doors of whatever room they've gone to clean), and the garden staff (all of whom are rarely seen working anymore, but the hedges have always been properly pruned at the end of the day).

It would not be so tedious to listen to her if she gave anyone a chance to speak. Or decided to change the subject.

"Brickabrack isn't the right word to use for his things. They were so magical it was more like a collection of treasures!" Lucy shoves another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth, pausing for only a second to swallow.

"That's lovely, Lu." Peter begins, but as he opens his mouth to discuss something else, Lucy eagerly begins recounting to us the song Tumnus played for her before she starts to hum the tune.

"Please, someone shut her up! We've heard this a hundred times!" Edmund groans, covering his ears and sinking into his chair. There's a clatter and he yelps, darting his gaze under the table. Peter's jaw tightens.

"Sorry, Lucy. Please continue." I notice Susan rolling her eyes at Peter.

The rest of breakfast is an excruciating front-row debut of sibling arguments of which I have no business being a part. Forty-five minutes later, we exit the dining room, relieved at our release.

"I could tell a cleverer story than that," Edmund mumbles as we split up to different parts of the manor. "And I wouldn't drive my audience half mad re-telling it."

"Why don't you start by getting friendly with a dictionary? It seems you've forgotten that 'cleverer' isn't a word in the English language." I suggest, shrugging past him. "And that's not very clever of you."

He pauses, furrowing his brows, no doubt struggling to think of something to say as I walk past him.

"Prigg!" He hurriedly cries from the base of a staircase.

"Good one," I call back, not turning around. I ascend another staircase before turning a corner to enter my room.

✶ ✶ ✶

"Elaine?" The voice rings in my ears over and over until I feel they will burst. "Elaine?"

"Please!" I cry out, blood dripping from my ears. The surrounding blasts press their force against my eardrums, now cold from the pain. Despite losing my hearing, the voice speaks clearly, calling for me again. "Please, please!"

Covering my ears, I double over with sobs.

"I can't reach you! I'm so sorry!"

"Elaine?" The voice comes out as clear as before, but in my pain, I feel as if it's taunting me.

"Please!" I fall back, faint from the loss of blood.

My body feels ignited with fire, each nerve aflame. Exhaling, my hands drop from my ears. I suck in a breath and shiver as cold air fills my lungs. Slowly, I open my eyes and squint as the harsh white of snow blinds me. I become aware of the tips of my eyelashes coated in snowflakes, the ends of my icy fingers, and the warmth of my breath as it puffs forth.