The beaver scurried through the dark forest; turning every corner with fear as the smallest noise startled him; a snapping twig, the crunching leaves, a fluttering bird. He was hurrying back to his burrow, where Mrs. Beaver was preparing jam. It had been a long, tiring day at work and he just wanted to get home and relax, but his thoughts were halted as he turned the corner around the large pine tree to see a tall figure towering over him. A faun. His hairy, goat legs kicked a little behind him, pushing a lump of snow into the air. His red scarf fluttered in the wind as his chest heaved with passion and longing. "Hello, beaver. What are you doing out this late? A little, dangerous, for a small rodent like you?" Tumnus said seductively as he strut towards the beaver, a prance in his step as his hooves crunched in the crisp, winter leaves. The beaver, startled, stumbled back a few steps. He fell with a soft thud in the soft blanket of snow. Tumnus took a few threatening trots closer. "I see you're ready for me beaver." He said under his cold, harsh breathe as he pounced towards the beaver. He stood over the beaver so that the beaver was a slave at his hooves. The beaver was lying on his back, frozen with fear. Tumnus hastily removed his scarf and threw in on the snowy quilt. The beaver didn't know what to do. He tried to scurried away but his feet sunk into the snow deeper. He tried to move but his body remained fixed in that one position. It was almost like he was ready for Tumnus. Tumnus squated down over Mr. Beaver so that his skinny, furry legs were either side of his body. He leant his head down to the beaver's ear and whispered: "Prepare yourself...". The steam from his mouth penetrating the beaver's ears. The fauns lips rubbed against Mr. Beaver's face. The beavers heart was racing. His eyes were fixed on Tumnus' magnificent body. The cold snow against the beavers back juxtaposed with the warmth from Tumnus' body. Tumnus' hand came from behind his back and he extended his arm so his bony fingers touched Mr. Beaver's face. Slowly, one finger 'slipped' into the beaver's mouth. The finger began to twist and turn in the beaver's orifice before emerging: covered in saliva. Tumnus brought the finger to his mouth and brushed it down his rough tongue so the beaver's spit was lying on his tastebuds. The beaver squirmed at the sight of this as Tumnus again pounced on him. He grabs the beaver's small, round head as flipped him over like a pancake. The beaver was breathing heavily now; there was no escape as Tumnus positioned himself inside of Mr. Beaver. The beaver screamed in agony as Tumnus thrust against the rodent. Tumnus picked up his scarf and shoved it in the beaver's mouth to muffle the screams. As Tumnus picked up the pace, tears were streaming down the beaver's cheeks; he screamed for remorse, but the faun had no mercy. The beaver's tiny body was too small for Tumnus, but that did not stop him. The beaver was in such pain, it was like he was going to be split in two. After what was hours; Tumnus released his goo into and on the beaver. The faun picked up his scarf and trotted away, leaving, what was a beaver, in a mangled wreck.