She walked to them, her footsteps as light as all woodland creatures' in the snow. Hidden limbs and dips and stones beneath the white covering the land could betray-easily-one whose purpose would be best kept secret. Still she couldn't mask the scent that had He Beaver lifting his nose to the air, even as the wind blew her scent away. And she couldn't blame him for the wariness that followed.
She'd listened long enough, heard all she cared to hear.
"I thought I'd find you lying down on the job," she said to the fox. She moved forward, into the circle. Knelt between him and Beaver. Both animals looked up at her with respect. Her human-like form was dark and mysterious in the night. She snuggled the fox into her lap and reached to caress Mr. Beaver's fur. Her voice was firm and disapproving as she entered the light of their fire. Peter noticed the form of her, clad in leather leggings and a dark tunic like a wrapped jacket with no collar. Underneath, at the veed neckline, glinted some softer material-a satin or silk that seemed gold in the dimness. Her hair was longer than her shoulders, brushing halfway down her back, with waves and loose curls. It was dark, a rich brown that seemed like black in the night except where it was highlighted by the fire and gleamed gold. Her boots were more modern, much like English riding boots, but made of softer stuff. A cloak billowed behind her shoulders and she wrapped it round her as she held the smaller animal.
"My lady, I assure you I was-"
"Deeply committed to the cause, I would guess," she interrupted.
He looked pleased. "I'll be off now. I'm gathering troops."
"I know. And I am indebted to you. Be safe and be wary. You'll not fare well if they catch you again this night. I'll see what I can do about making your claim appear true." She kissed his nose and let him limp into the black outside the circle of warmth. She turned to the pair of animals watching her. "If they want to leave then they must be allowed to leave, He Beaver," she said.
Beaver was shaking his head. It was a motion she echoed. Mrs. Beaver caught her other hand in her paws. This stranger didn't want to be persuaded, however.
"They aren't the ones," she said simply in that soft, flat voice of hers. The accent was strange to Peter's ears. He ducked his head as the thought brought an entirely inappropriate smile. Of all things for him to find incongruous.
"Two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve and these aren't the ones?" Beaver chided.
"I see two daughters and but one son."
"The brother-" Mrs. Beaver began. She cut her off, this strangely hypnotic form. Her voice was not soft now, but cutting in its disappointment.
"Is imprisoned by the White Witch. And his elder," here she nodded at Peter, "thinks only to get him out and get him home."
"As would you, if you had a brother to protect," Peter broke in.
"I would seek to do what is right, not just right for myself."
"If the boy dies at her hands then it's not right for any of us, dearie," Mrs. Beaver told her in tones meant to subdue.
"And this man, this is the king you would choose, one who would use your people for his own ends and then leave you?"
"Ganna," Beaver started. He took a deep breath and started again. And still he shook his little brown head even as she continued to rub her hand through the thick fur. "Ganna, no one can see the end clearly. Look into your heart and trust what is there."
"I see nothing."
Mrs. Beaver sighed a heavy sigh. "Then that is your loss. And no one else's fault."
The young woman nodded. "I know that," she told the animal still stroking her paws over her right hand.
"Hope is fragile," she told the girl, this Ganna. To which she nodded, her hair falling forward. She looked less intimidating with it lying beside her smooth cheek. And the haunted expression in her eyes made Peter's heart ache for her. She was probably no older than Susan. Mrs. Beaver gave her one last pat on the hand. "It is all the more precious for all that." She smiled kindly. "Can you stay? It would ease your soul, I think. And certainly make our journey easier."
Ganna shook her head. "I meant not even to let you know that I was here, but He Beaver caught a hint of my scent and I wanted him not to worry. And I wanted to appease my own guilt concerning Fox. He is dear to me, despite his resemblance to cousins of a meaner sort. I have far still to go tonight. And now I shall throw my path a bit to plant a few suspicious prints and scents."
She rose, brushing the back of her wrap and throwing it again behind her shoulders. In doing so the jewels of the hilt of her hunting knife and the scabbard were revealed for the first time. Peter's gaze was brought back to her face as she bowed to him.
"If I was wrong, I apologize."
"For calling me a coward or implying that I am unconcerned about the plights of this land? Or for the idea that I play on the hopes and beliefs and traditions of another culture to get what I want?"
She smiled a tight smile and her chin came up. "For anything I was wrong about, should I be proved wrong."
He rose as well, and extended his hand around the side of the fire. "A pleasure to meet you, I'm sure," he said sarcastically.
She lifted an eyebrow and stared at his hand. Lucy was already whispering, "You shake it," in light of her past experience with Narnians.
"I know, little imp," Ganna smiled down at the girl, wrinkling her nose. "I'm just not sure I want to." Lucy giggled. Peter's gut knotted even more tightly. Susan thought it all in bad taste. But then, she wasn't on the verge of manhood, on the verge of responsibilities more daunting than any ever faced before, wasn't standing in Peter's shoes. She had no way of seeing through his eyes the transformation wrought on the stranger's face by that secret smile, that sparkle of mischief. Ganna took the hand, still looking down at Lucy. She didn't shake, didn't squeeze. She merely laid her hand in his and absorbed the warmth and untested strength. And, for the first time in long years, wondered at her own first impression. Her expression had become serious again as she met his eyes. He nodded once, his own face stern now, and she turned and left.