The smell of a freshly baked pie floated through the air. Not a fancy apple pie or some other sweet delicacy, but a simple fish pie. Day to day food in those areas. Alina looked out at the snow covered ground, and she watched the snow fall in gentle flakes. Narnia had been covered in snow and ice for three years now. How much longer was it going to last?
With a sigh, Alina turned her attention inside where her brothers were wrestling on the floor. They were four-year-old cubs. They were not old enough to remember the war waged by the White Witch, or the bitterness of father's death, or the beauty of the green forests. They do not recall past Christmases or the celebrations that used to accompany it. But Alina remembered.
She remembered the Christmas trees, the holly, the jingle of bells. She desired to taste a pie or have cookies with milk. But resources were scarce, and the White Witch was strict. No celebrations of any kind were permitted.
Her mother was humming an old folk song that made her brothers laugh, and Alina wondered how they could be so happy when everything was wrong. Did they not know it was Christmas eve?
They had their dinner of boiled potatoes and fish pie and then went on with their evening in a content sort of manner. There was happiness in their eyes, and a touch of spring to their steps.
As they were washing dishes, Alina asked her mother, "How is it that you appear so happy? All I feel is sadness, for everything feels so wrong. How can you be so joyful?"
"Because it is Christmas." her mother answered simply. "We may not be allowed to celebrate outwardly, but no one can control what goes on in our hearts. And tonight my heart is rejoicing, for Aslan is born." And she smiled warmly at Alina.
Alina thought on this as they finished the dishes. She tried to make her heart rejoice but couldn't. Where were the snowy dances of the fawns in the wood that night? No music could be heard in the distance, nor smell of baking from the neighbours. How could it be Christmas? She tried to make her heart rejoice, but sadness pierced it like a sword. She began to cry.
Her mother came to her and licked her fur soothingly, and she wrapped her tail around her comfortingly.
"My dear, what is the matter?"
"This isn't Christmas! It can't be! It's too dreary!"
"The thing you seem to be forgetting, love, is that Christmas isn't about the festivities, or the carols, or even family and friends gathering together. It's the birth of Aslan."
Deep in the warm burrow, surrounded by her family, Alina laid down to sleep. Her tummy was full, there was a roof over her head, and she had her mother who loved her and her brothers whom she loved.
"But how can we rejoice, Mama, when everything is so dreary?"
"Look around you right now and remember: the beginning of joy, sweet one, is to be content with what you have."
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