Author's Note: This story is about Christopher Robin, though it's done as a sort of Elseworlds story. I fully intend for the characters of Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh, as well as his other friends to be similar in personality to the way they were in the books, but the setting is completely different. Instead of being merely a story about a young boy's imagination, Christopher Robin finds himself in possession of strange, magical powers from beyond the stars; powers that force him to confront many, many things that he never needed to face in the books, or in any of the shows or movies; the power to make things live.

Christopher Robin is a superhuman in this story, and if you don't like the idea of Christopher Robin having incredible powers, or eventually becoming a hero of sorts, this may not be the story for you. However, I thought the idea had some merit behind it, and I wanted to explore what might happen if a good and decent, polite child like Christopher suddenly found himself with powers far greater than he was ready for.

I could talk more about this story's mood and overall premise, but you'll discover soon enough, whether this is the kind of story you want to read. For now, I'll just stop talking, and let this story tell itself.

-Bra1n1ac-

Now Live

Part 1: Winnie the Pooh

"Nari? Are you there?"

The screen blinked to life in just a moment, and across its glassy surface, an image appeared, seeming to almost rise, as though emerging from a pool of water. It was an image of a series of small, black and white dots, which changed position gradually, turning from black to white, and back again, then changing into other colors a moment later, though no distinct picture or image was clear in them. Indeed, Heik had seen that happen a number of times before. It was the closest thing to a representation of Nari's true form.

It had seemed like years since Heik had begun living inside Nari, and he wouldn't have taken any of that time back. Nari was a space vessel, of course; a machine, but she had something that most other machines didn't have. Nari was hooked up to a very special kind of power source; the Pneua. Legends said that there had once been many Pneua in the universe, but most were gone. In fact, as far as Heik knew, Nari's Pneua was the only one of its kind left in the galaxy. How exactly it worked, no one knew for certain. The secrets of the Pneua had been lost a long time ago, along with how to construct one. Still, one thing about it was obvious. When it was connected to something that could properly harness its power, the Pneua brought things to life.

"Yes, I'm still here." Nari replied, as the ship turned gradually in space, "He's closing on us fast, but I'm still okay."

"So we can't outrun him." Heik muttered, "Can we target him with our weapons?"

"No. His craft is too small and too fast-moving."

"Is there any kind of evasive action we can take?"

"Like what? I'm already doing everything I can think to try."

For months, Heik and Nari had been able to avoid being detected by Gaisrah, but it looked like they were finally caught. Soon, Gaisrah would seize them, drag their ship to a stop, board their vessel, and abduct Nari. At least, that was how Heik thought about it, because whenever Gaisrah stole a Pneua, everything that had ever been given life by it returned to its previous state. Nari would become an ordinary ship computer, and even if Heik was allowed to live, which was doubtful, he knew that it would feel awful to go on, knowing that he'd let Nari be destroyed forever. The time had come to make a hard choice, but deep down, Heik knew what he had to do.

"Nari," Heik said at last, "If he gets too close, and there's no other way to escape, please jettison the Pneua. He might get me, and the ship, but... I don't want him to get you. It's wrong. We've got to keep him from getting it. Do you understand?"

Nari was silent for several seconds, but finally, she replied in a very sad voice, "Yes. I know you're right. I wish there were some other way, but... The hard part will be getting it out of his reach. There aren't too many places where he truly can't get to, but maybe if I try to send it somewhere with inhabitants, they can protect it."

Only a fraction of a second passed as Nari made her calculations, and soon, she'd said "Got it."

By that point, however, Heik could hear a rapid, tapping, creaking noise coming from the upper hull of the ship, and he knew what that meant. The ship was starting to get warm as he clung to his seat, but at last, Nari spoke one last time.

"I'm sorry, Heik. Goodbye."

In a flash, there was a clanking noise from under the floor of the cockpit, and a tiny light, like some far-off star could be seen through the main viewscreen, flying off in the direction of the nearest star system. However, what Heik noticed most was how the multicolored dots on the secondary screen had changed to a series of black and white ones. Nari was still a powerful computer, and still had very complex programming, but she wasn't alive anymore.

However, when Heik looked up at the star system where the Pneua had been sent to, he wondered, for a moment, what she'd been thinking. Sure, there was life on one planet of that system, and they sounded like intelligent creatures, but as far as Heik could tell, they didn't even have a reliable means of space travel yet.

March 8th, 1924

Christopher had just finished dinner and pushed his plate away, then rushed upstairs to get his favorite toy, and come back downstairs, dragging the old, stuffed swan behind him. It had been a good Saturday overall, and he'd spent quite a bit of time outside, but it was good to get the chance to play with his toys again, even if he didn't really have anyone else to share them with.

Sometimes, Christopher's father would play along with some of his games, when he would make up stories for his stuffed animals to act out, but that night, it seemed unlikely that that was going to happen. Both his father and mother had sat down on opposite sides of the downstairs drawing room. His father was in an armchair closer to the stairs that lead up to their bedrooms, and his mother was sitting in a smaller chair right next to the floor radio, and turning the knobs. It didn't look like a promising night for a game with his family. Still, Christopher approached his father hopefully, with the toy swan in one hand.

"Papa?" Christopher asked, stepping closer to his dad and holding up the toy swan, "Would you like to play a game with Pooh and me?"

However, his father only seemed to think it over for a second or so, before he shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, Christopher. I can't. I'm too worn out today." his father replied, "If you want, though, you can go to the hill in the back. It's a nice, clear night, and I'll bet Pooh would be interested in seeing the stars."

The young boy was very disappointed a few seconds later, when he carried the toy out of the room with him, but nevertheless, he'd forgotten all the games he'd been planning on playing, and in the end, it was a good night for stargazing.

Soon, Christopher had brought his swan out onto the hilltop with him, and had climbed up into one of the branches of an old tree that had been standing on that hill since well before he'd been born. The night sky was exceptionally beautiful, as Christopher sat on a thick branch, laying Pooh the swan down carefully next to him.

Christopher could already make out dozens of stars that he'd seen and read about in his books, and several constellations as well, although to him, they never really looked like what the books said they did. Still, it was a pleasant sight, and it certainly wasn't the first time that he'd ever spent a lazy evening just watching the stars with his toys.

"All the same..." Christopher remarked aloud, holding up the toy swan and speaking to it directly, as he often did to his toys, "It would be so much better, if only you could enjoy it as I do. If only you could say you enjoyed it, or make any kind of reply at all. It wouldn't need to be much; just some silly remark about how the sky looks just like the puddles in the street tonight, or something of the kind. I'd be satisfied with that."

However, as usual, the swan said nothing. Its silence was, in a way, the most horrible reply it could have given, because it confirmed poor Christopher in the sad realization that he'd always really known.

"I'm... I'm alone tonight." Christopher observed, his face falling and his head drooping, as he let the stuffed swan sag in his hands, its head tipping back over its body.

For several seconds, the boy was indeed alone, facing those sad thoughts by himself as he looked down at the tree bark below him. But as he watched, he noticed that something strange was happening to the bark; it was growing lighter in color before his eyes.

For a moment, Christopher blinked, checking the bark again, and sure enough, it was the same color as before. The only reason why it had seemed to be a lighter color was that a light was shining on it, and indeed, on the entire tree and hillside, and the light was growing brighter.

Quickly, Christopher looked up towards the light source, and his eyes and mouth opened all the way in amazement. One of the stars in the sky had grown larger than the others, and it was growing visibly bigger with every second that passed.

Dropping Pooh the swan to the ground, Christopher quickly began the long descent down the tree's branches, and when he finally got back to the ground and retrieved Pooh, then turned to look at the star again, he discovered that it was noticably bigger. Christopher knew only a little about star constellations, and like most children of his age, had never been taught what to do, in case one star should happen to suddenly grow larger than the rest, so for a while, he simply stood there on the hillside, staring up at the rapidly-growing star in wonder. He wasn't even certain whether it was a good sign or a portent of some disaster, but what he didn't expect was for the star to actually be no larger than his head.

The star was on top of Christopher before he knew it, and he found himself falling over on the grass with the tiny, shining item, whatever it was, pushing against his stomach. The strange thing, however, was that even as it had pushed him over on the grass, there'd been no sense of pain or impact. The only thing that Christopher had felt when the star had struck him in the stomach was a strong, but pleasant feeling of warmth all over, as though he were wrapped all over in cotton and wool blankets, and in no danger of being unwrapped from them.

Quickly, Christopher sat up, looking around to try to see where the star had fallen, if only so that he could present it to his parents as some reason why his clothes were all dirty. However, he couldn't find the star anywhere. It was as though it had just vanished. For a moment, he thought that he might have just imagined it, but then he looked down at his shirt, and the place where the star had hit him, and gasped in amazement, because he saw that a soft, glowing color was beginning to spread along his body, moving out from the spot on his shirt, and traveling not only across his entire torso, but into his arms as well, and finally, into his fingertips. The glow was very beautiful, and it changed colors; from a beautiful, leafy green color, to a sickly shade of dark purple, which he didn't particularly like.

However, by that point, Christopher was most definitely afraid, and he didn't know what was going on. Quickly grabbing Pooh again, Christopher ran back to the house, hoping that his parents would have some kind of explanation. However, by the time he'd gotten back to the front door, the glow that had surrounded him had faded, and he looked more or less the same as when he'd left the house to begin with, albiet a bit grubbier.

Christopher's parents were still busy with the radio and still didn't look like they wanted to be disturbed. Nevertheless, he still probably would have asked them about the star if any of the glow was still left on him, or if he'd had any evidence that it had really happened. In a way, that only made Christopher more upset, and he didn't want his parents to see that he was so sad, so he quickly retreated to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"I feel so silly." Christopher said to Pooh the swan, as soon as he'd closed his room door, and was reasonably certain that he wouldn't be overheard, "I'm not hurt, and I'm not even all that dirty. I suppose I was a bit scared, but I don't really have any good reason to be upset, yet all I want to do is cry. I suppose if you were alive, you'd tell me not to be such a crybaby, wouldn't you, Pooh?"

However, just then, Christopher's eyes widened again, for the second time that night, because the sight that he was witnessing wasn't like anything he'd ever seen before. The moment he'd said those words to the stuffed swan, its eyes, which had previously been only made of buttons, had seemed to blink. Christopher rubbed his own eyes in a hurry, looking more closely at the stuffed animal, but then its beak, which had previously been a single piece, sewn together, actually opened, and Christopher heard a voice coming from the toy, as its beak opened and closed.

"That's about the size of it, Christopher. You'll never get nowhere in life if you blubber over every little thing."

With a start and a shriek of alarm, Christopher Robin dropped the swan toy to the ground, and backed away towards the door, watching the stuffed animal carefully, and more than a little fearfully. At last, however, as time passed, and the stuffed creature did little more than rub its head and back as if they were sore, the young boy was just able to pluck up the courage to speak to it again.

"Did... Did you just talk?" Christopher asked, his eyes still as wide as saucers. However, the toy's reply came a bit more quickly than Christopher might have liked.

"Well, happy birthday to you too, I suppose. I was just trying to give yeh some friendy advice. Yeh didn't have to go and toss me like yeh did."

"Sorry." Christopher replied, actually feeling a little ashamed, but the toy's attitude was far from gracious, and it was hard to feel appreciated in its presence.

"Just so's it don't happen again, I suppose we can put it behind us." the swan said with a bit of a shrug, taking a moment to run its beak along one of its stuffed wings as it spoke, as though it were grooming itself, "Anyway, there's always more important things to concern yerself with."

Christopher Robin was sure that he didn't enjoy talking to Pooh since he'd come to life, and he was starting to get a little worried. Even so, just to be polite, he asked, "Like what?"

"Well, yur still young, and you've got some talent." the swan explained, "Yur a smart-looking kid with a cute, innocent look; the kind crowds love. Put a kid like you up on stage, have him do something incredible, and folks'll pay a fortune."

"Something incredible?" Christopher asked, feeling confused, "Like what? What can I do that's incredible?"

"Well, yeh do a darn good ventriloquism act with that swan puppet of yurs, if yeh know what I mean." the swan suggested, preening the cotton of its other wing.

"Are you saying I should lie to people; tell them I can throw my voice?" Christopher asked, starting to get a bit angry with the swan.

The swan seemed to be thinking about it for a moment, but at last, he said "Well, 'lie' might be too strong a word. Come up with another word for it, and it should all be awright. After all, nobody could blame a sweet kid like you fer doin' what it takes to succeed, eh?"

At last, however, Christopher had folded his arms. He was really starting to get angry with Pooh, though he tried not to show it.

"I don't like the way you think." Christopher said at last, "I mean, really! Trying to swindle folks out of their money with a fake ventr... vent... ventraculism act! You should be ashamed to even think such things."

For a moment, the swan turned and looked up into Christopher's eyes with a puzzled expression, as though he were trying to figure the boy out, but at last, the swan bowed slightly, and said "Beggin' yur pardon, sir," looking as though he meant it not at all. However, in another moment, the swan continued speaking.

"In any case, it don't look to me like yev got a great deal to yur name, and there aren't a great many good openings for toy swans that can match the thrill of a stage performance, nor the money neither. That's always nice. It just seems to me that ought to be what yur shooting for."

"You're a very bossy, crude and dishonest bird, and now that I've got to know you, I don't think I like you one bit." Christopher said firmly, raising one finger as if to scold his toy. The swan was starting to look just as upset, however, and in a moment, he actually jumped up onto the bed, arching his neck as though trying to look threatening.

"Well, it's yur business who yeh like and don't like." the swan said, "I got big dreams, though, and I'll bet you do too. Yeh can't hide it from me, kid. Deep down, I'll bet yeh want to hear the crowds chantin' yur name, eh?"

"Crowds don't chant for little boys." Christopher replied, stepping forward and grabbing Pooh by the beak, "I've never thought like that before. I don't care about cheers or praise. I just wanted to play some games, and I wish you'd go back to being just a regular toy now, if that's all you can think about."

However, that time, the swan didn't reply, and for a moment, Christopher was confused, until he looked back into its eyes, and discovered that they were ordinary buttons once again. Then he tried to open the swan's beak, and found that it was sewn shut again. For a moment, he just looked at the swan, scratching his head, and at last, with a slight shiver, he put Pooh into the wastepaper basket that was sitting on one side of his room. After that, however, Christopher spent a few seconds, merely looking at the stuffed swan among the papers, before he began to wonder if the whole thing had been rubbish, and to wish that he could be sure of what had really happened. It was then that he decided to try something else, though he had no way of knowing whether it would work.

In just a few moments, Christopher had opened the wooden box where he kept all his stuffed toys, and dug through them, one by one, until he found the large, yellow teddy bear with the red shirt, which had been given to him by his father. It was another one of his favorite toys, and aside from the swan, he'd probably spent more time with it than with any of his other toys. Still, Christopher was starting to get an unpleasant feeling whenever he thought about playing with the swan, as though he could never look into its button eyes again, without feeling distaste for the rude, ambitious creature it had been. Clearly, he needed a replacement for Pooh the swan.

In just a moment, Christopher had sat the toy bear down on the floor in front of him and sat down, cross-legged, across from it, looking into its innocent, stuffed face for several seconds. At last, brightening up, Christopher spoke to the toy.

"You're the new Pooh from now on," Christopher said, though he still didn't dare to touch the bear just yet, "but before anything else, we must set up some rules. You're not to get greedy, or to plot and scheme for money, do you understand? I won't have any of it. I want you to be... a gentle soul; a kind-hearted person, who never wants to hurt anyone, and thinks of everyone as his friend. You'll be friendly with everyone you meet, and you'll have very simple wishes, like... Well, like honey. You'll be as different from that nasty swan as night is from day."

With those words, Christopher Robin finally picked the bear up again and embraced it tightly as he said one more thing to it.

"Most importantly, I want you to trust me, and like me, and I want you to know what it means to love somebody, and to be loved back. Please don't ever ask me for something that isn't as simple to get as a jar of honey. Do you think you can live like that?"

There was silence for just a few seconds in that room, and for a moment, Christopher Robin almost thought that the whole thing really had been in his imagination after all, but just then, he heard a voice; husky-sounding, but light and kindly, not unlike his own grandfather's voice, except more innocent and less wise.

"Yes, Christopher Robin. I think I can. In any case, I shall just have to give it my best."

"Bear!" Christopher Robin exclaimed, pulling the stuffed bear back from his face in delight, and putting it back down on the floor, where it slowly got up on its little, stuffed feet, almost seeming to rotate its plump body into a standing position, "You can talk!"

"Well, I hear someone speaking, and it seems it's not you, so I suppose it must be me." the bear said with a smile, seeming to sincerely mean every word, "Also, it seems that you can talk too, and that's very good, because if neither of us could talk, it would be very hard for me to ask you any questions, or for you to answer them."

Christopher Robin laughed just a little as the bear spoke, and that was the moment when their relationship really began to take shape. The bear reasoned everything out aloud, in a very simpleminded way, which Christopher found very funny, but he didn't seem to mind when Christopher laughed. In fact, he'd often join in the laughter too, as though merely because he wanted to enjoy the joke along with everyone else.

"Well," Christopher said after a moment or two, "What kinds of questions do you want to ask me?"

"Well, for one thing," the bear said, tapping his head with one arm and scrunching up his face as though thinking hard about something, "I know that it's customary to greet new people when you meet them, and so I say, 'hello, Christopher Robin. It's very nice to meet you.' But this is the first time that I can remember having ever met myself, and I should like to know how one is supposed to greet oneself properly."

Christopher Robin really laughed at that point, leaning back against his bed with a long series of chuckles, which the bear seemed to do his best to imitate a moment later, which only made Christopher laugh harder. At last, however, Christopher dried his eyes, which were filled with tears of joy, and fighting back another chuckle, he replied.

"Oh, silly old bear. You never need to greet yourself. Others greet you instead."

"Oh." the bear replied with a short nod, as though it all made sense at that point, "That's good. I should hate to think that I was treating myself harshly during our first meeting. Still, I wonder who will be the first to greet me, if I shan't do it."

"I will!" Christopher said, lifting the stuffed bear in his arms again, and holding him at arm's length with a bright smile on his face, "Hello, Winnie the Pooh. It's very nice to meet you."

"It is very nice to meet you too, Christopher," Pooh Bear replied, "and I hope that we shall be great friends."

Indeed, Christopher and Pooh Bear did become great friends, and in fact, Winnie the Pooh quickly became closer to Christopher Robin than any of his human friends. They got along perfectly together, with Pooh always making Christopher laugh, and the boy, in turn, providing Pooh with honey when he said he wanted some, and with cheese, fish, berries and a number of other foodstuffs when honey was scarce or would be missed. Pooh always seemed grateful for whatever he was given, though he did seem to get hungry pretty easily, and was almost never truly satisfied.

It only took Christopher a few days, however, to realize that his relationship with Pooh Bear would need to change. Christopher had been at lessons that morning, and had been too busy to play with the silly, old bear, and when he'd gotten back, he'd discovered that the basement cupboard had been raided of its honey jar, and there was sticky honey smeared all over the bottom three shelves and a nearby chair; clearly by a stuffed paw.

Christopher had needed an hour or two to finish cleaning up all the spilled and smeared honey, off both the cupboard, the chair, and Pooh Bear himself, and fortunately, no one else had seen the bizarre honey-prints, but it had still become obvious that Pooh was no longer a mere toy, and that Christopher would need to do something about him; find some place to put him during his lessons, or while he was asleep.

At first, Christopher had suggested that Pooh Bear stay in the toy box, but Pooh had looked sad when it had been suggested to him, because, he'd said, there was no food in the toy box, and no one to talk to either, and in any case, it was ever so dark, so would Christopher please find a better place for him to live?

After that, Christopher had thought briefly about sending Pooh out into the woods behind his house, to live in the woods like a real bear, but the problem was that Pooh was very small and not very strong or bright, no matter what he looked like, and Christopher shuddered at the thought of some wolf or fox discovering Pooh Bear in the woods and attacking. The young boy continued puzzling over that problem all day and into the following evening, when he was just about to go to bed. Then, an idea came to him.

Quickly, Christopher Robin got out of bed and rushed over to the windowsill on one side of his room, clearing away two old kangaroo dolls and a tiger toy, then moving his little chair right up to the windowsill, to create a makeshift desk. At last, he reached up into an alcove in the wall, where all of his books were kept, and picked out one labeled "letters" along the side. There was nothing written in the book, but a few letters, which he'd written himself as part of his morning lessons, but that was the very reason why he'd picked it out.

Quickly, Christopher grabbed a pen, and tapped it on the paper a couple of times, thinking about what he was going to write. Christopher could write a little by that point, thanks to his morning lessons, but before an hour had passed, he'd still had an alphabet and grammar book open in front of him on one side of the window sill, and a dictionary on the other. He was sure he'd made a few mistakes in writing his book, but he'd done his best to make it look professional and real. His intention, after all, was to read it to Pooh Bear when it was finished. For the moment, however, as he put his pencil down, he settled for reading a part of it to himself.

"This is the story of the Hundred Acre Wood." Christopher began, "The Hundred Acre Wood is a charming place, with no wolves, foxes or bobcats, or any other animals that gobble people up. There are many trees and many gardens in the wood, and the trees are magic, because when a tree is hollowed out, instead of growing weak, it becomes strong and rigid, and becomes a very good place for a small animal to live in without fear. In the Hundred Acre Wood, there is one tree in particular, which is hollowed and decorated as a nice, little home. There is a door in the front of the tree, and windows along the sides, and little bits of shingled roof stick out of the tree. On the inside of the tree, there is a charming little cucco clock, but without a cucco bird, and several small chairs, just large enough for a small animal to sit in. There are drawers for keeping fresh shirts in, a cupboard for honey and other supplies, when needed, and a nice, big mirror along one side of the room. Outside the front door, there is a firepit for cooking, and a little bell, which can be rung to announce the arrival of visitors or letters. There is also a postbox there, and a little sign over the door, reading 'Mr Sanders,' but no one named Mr Sanders lives in the house. This is the house where Winnie the Pooh lives, and a fine, safe and sturdy house it is. Christopher Robin visits him there often."

Christopher had just finished drawing a sketch of the tree-house on the second page, when something occurred to him; an idea that he'd never considered before. Of course, his past experiences with making things live had been mixed, so he hesitated before making his decision on the subject, but in the end, he knew that he had to at least try it.

Soon, Christopher had leaned his book up against the window, looking at it intently, and before long, he was speaking to the book, as he had to Pooh Bear.

"You're not a dangerous place, but you are a fun place," Christopher said to the book solemnly, "the kind of place where a boy can go to have fun whenever he wishes, and come back home in a twinkling when he's done, or when he's needed. You'll be the perfect place for toy animals to live, and you'll have a nice, honey tree for Pooh bear."

Then, reaching forward, Christopher Robin placed one hand on the book's front cover, and in a voice that he hoped was too quiet to be heard outside of that room, he said "Now live."

The book gave a shudder under the young boy's touch, as though something inside of it was truly alive, but the book itself didn't speak. Instead, before Christopher's very eyes, the book began to change shape; its cover becoming a bit taller, and the binding of the book changing into a real, hard-bound book. A title faded into existence on the front cover, along with a picture beneath it, and an author name near the bottom, and at last, when the changes ceased, Christopher could barely believe it.

There, on the front cover, there was a picture of himself, walking hand in hand with Pooh Bear down a dirt path and into a beautiful wood with the first light of dawn, just peeking over the horizon. The rest of the front cover read "The Hundred Acre Wood, by Christopher Robin."

It took Christopher's breath away, even as he opened the book and turned a few pages, finding the descriptions he'd made of Pooh's house, but there were also descriptions of the honey tree, and a number of other places, which Christopher hadn't written, and yet, they were all written in his style, as though he'd written every description himself, and just forgotten about it. Closing the book again, Christopher looked at the binding, and was amazed by how professional it looked. There was the title again, and his name, along with a smaller version of the picture on the front cover, and on the back cover, to Christopher's amazement, there was a short paragraph describing the book.

"In this first book by Christopher Robin, a series of terms, phrases and sketches reveal for us his vision of a world where even his toys would have no reason to be afraid; a place uniquely suited to himself and his newest friends. Christopher weaves these phrases and images into a magnificent, magical world, that bears many future visits for anyone with a sense of wonder in their hearts."

"Who in the world wrote that?" Christopher asked aloud, staring in confusion and bewilderment at the plot summary and review on the back cover. Still, as puzzling as it was, he was eager to see if the picture that he'd drawn was still in the book.

As he flipped through the pages, however, he found that not only was his picture still in there, but again, so were many others, done using his technique. More to the point, as he turned to the page with the house labeled "Mr Sanders," he began to look more closely at the drawing, and was once again stunned by what he saw. The branches of the tree in the picture were swaying, as though in a light breeze, and the closer that Christopher looked at the sketch, the less it seemed to be a mere sketch, and the more color it seemed to adopt, until finally, it looked as though it were a painting rather than a sketch, and moving as though it were alive.

Christopher stared at the picture in wonder, discovering as he looked more closely, that it looked almost real, as though he could reach right out and touch the bark on the tree. Slowly, with one hand, he reached towards the picture...

"Pooh! Pooh, wake up!" Christopher exclaimed, shaking Pooh out of his sleep. Pooh Bear had been asleep on the floor of the bedroom that night, and he still looked groggy when Christopher shook him awake, but when he replied, he sounded more confused than upset.

"Yes? What is it, Christopher? Is it time for breakfast already?"

"No! No, it's not breakfast time." Christopher exclaimed, beaming with energy and happiness as he grabbed Pooh and pulled him towards the windowsill, "I want to show you something I made for you."

"Oh. Alright." Pooh replied, allowing himself to be lead by the hand to the windowsill, where Christopher pulled open the book labeled "Hundred Acre Wood," and pointed eagerly to the moving image of the tree inside the book.

"Do you see, Pooh Bear?" Christopher asked, still beaming, "That's going to be your new home, and I'll come to visit at least every week; every day if I can manage it, and you can come and visit me when I'm home."

Pooh Bear squinted just a little, looking at the image of the tree, and did seem impressed by it at first, but at last, he'd started to shake his head sadly.

"No, I don't think it will do at all, Christopher Robin. I'm sorry."

"What?" Christopher asked, confused, "Whatever is the matter, Pooh?"

"I'm a nice, tall bear with a round tummy." Pooh pointed out, "That tree is much too small for me to live in, and much too flat. Why, I should never fit inside."

"Silly old bear." Christopher replied with another chuckle, "You won't be living in the paper, but in a real tree, just like that one, except bigger, and not so flat."

"Oh, my!" Pooh exclaimed, as though the thought had never occurred to him, "Yes, that does sound good. I should like that, although I'm certain I would miss you very much, Christopher."

"Well, let's find out." Christopher replied, turning back to face the page again, "Put your paw on the picture of the tree."

"Like this?" Pooh Bear asked, pressing his strange, cottony paw against the image, and just like that, it happened, just as it had to Christopher himself minutes before. A great wind of some kind seemed to kick up around the book, and Pooh Bear began to look smaller and smaller, disappearing into the page. It was a strange magic, that had become part of the book somehow, though Christopher couldn't explain it, and in a moment, he'd placed his own hand on the image as well. In a flash, the paper seemed to pass over him like a veil, and Christopher Robin found himself falling forward on the grass, in front of a good-sized tree with a hollowed-out bottom, with a door, two windows, a mailbox, a firepit, a doorbell and the sign above the entrance reading "Mr Sanders." It was all exactly as Christopher had described it. Of course, he'd seen the tree before, and had been by the honey tree to see if it was the way it was written as well. Sure enough, the Hundred Acre Wood was exactly what Christopher Robin had written it to be, but it was real, tangible and alive. The air was fresh and clean, and there was no sign of fog, rain or snow; at least not yet.

Christopher stayed on that hill for a minute or so, just breathing in the clean air and wondering where Pooh had run off to, when finally, Pooh Bear stuck his head out of one of the windows of the tree-house, and gave his evaluation.

"This is a good house." Winnie the Pooh remarked, "Thank you, Christopher. I will enjoy living here. There's even a cupboard for keeping honey. I do hope that I can get more when I run out."

"There's a honey tree just a short ways from here." Christopher Robin pointed out, "If you just follow the bees, you're bound to come to it eventually."

"Oh, yes." Pooh said at last, "Where there are bees, there's sure to be honey. This seems like just the sort of place where a Pooh Bear could live very happily, only..."

"Only what?" Christopher asked, a little confused. Pooh was usually happy as long as he had enough to eat; at least when Christopher had seem him in the past.

"It's only that I fear I shall be lonely here." Pooh Bear replied sadly, "I know that you can't stay here, but still, I do wish that there was someone else here; someone who I could play games with, and take walks with, and perhaps share some honey with. This seems like an awfully big wood for one little Pooh Bear, and I should so like more regular company."

For a moment, Christopher felt a little hurt that his own visits wouldn't be enough to satisfy Pooh, but only for a moment. When he took a few seconds to think it over, he realized that Pooh was right. It wasn't good for him to live by himself in the woods like that, no matter how safe they were.

"You're right, Pooh." Christopher replied with a smile, "I'm going to go back to my room. There's one more thing that I think I can do for you."