Sonora would very much consider herself a daydreamer; delusional, even. But this? Drugged and transported to a snowy wasteland with a talking Beaver as her only source of company and conversation?

Maybe conversation was a stretch, as Mr. Beaver rarely let her get a word in edge-wise. He raved about his wife, Mrs. Beaver, and his friend, the Badger. He talked about the sons and daughters of Eve returning to save Narnia, as well as a godly Lion. Of course, this was all gossip from a Mr. Tumnus, who lived not too far from where the twelve-year-old appeared.

At first, she wanted to argue with Mr. Beaver that animals don't talk, and fauns couldn't exactly live anywhere as they didn't exist, but she was afraid that argument would offend and give him plenty of reason to ditch her where she stood. Instead, she opted to keep her mouth shut and let the rodent talk his merry little heart out. Sonora enjoyed it as it gave her time to mull over her thoughts and figure out exactly what she was going to do until the drugs wore off and everything would turn back to normal.

Well, as normal as the situation could be. There was still the "being lost in the middle of the woods" problem that she didn't know how to solve, but she was glad she at least knew a little about surviving in this sort of environment. Her father had brought her hunting with him and a couple of buddies one winter in the Panhandle region of Idaho. That had been the worst couple of days in her whole life. She hadn't felt warm once throughout the whole trip, and by the time she got home, she was nearly delirious from the lack of sleep. Her mother had nearly torn his head off as she cursed at him in Spanish.

Sonora found herself grinning at the memory, but quickly remembered where she was and the sadness seeped back into her heart.

The Book sat in the front pocket of her hoodie. She hadn't the time to look at its contents, too afraid the beaver would get curious about the object and demand to see it. Not that he would demand anything of her, it was her anxiety keeping her from divulging the whole truth.

"What about you, Sonny? Where do you come from?" Mr. Beaver asked. He looked back at her imploringly, and Sonora nearly gushed at how cute he looked. Talking rodent be damned, if a tiny animal looked at you like that then you squeal like a little girl and be happy about it.

Sonora chewed at her nails and thought about what was appropriate to share with Mr. Beaver, then chuckled at such a ridiculous notion. He wouldn't care because he was a dream. "Well, I come from a small town in Eastern Washington. I don't have any siblings but I have plenty of cousins from both my mom and dad..." And so she told Mr. Beaver a small portion of her life; what it was like growing up as an only child, how the snow didn't bother her much because she grew up around it, and how she had punched a girl for talking smack. That bit of information had him chuckling.

It wasn't long before they rounded a hilltop and stared down at the small valley. A river flowed through the landscape, slowed down by a well-looking built dam by his truly. As silly as it was, Sonny was impressed as she closed in on the pile of sticks.

You know the saying, "a small house is big on the inside, but a big house is small on the inside"? Well, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver's house was certainly cozy, but not big. Sonora could barely stand in the entryway (not that she was complaining, it was just a tight fit) but she didn't lie when she said it was cozy. It reminded her of when she would visit her grandma's place.

"Oh, my darling, you look positively frozen!" Mrs. Beaver exclaimed. She rushed around the kitchen area, gathering water and cups to make tea.

Right off the bat, Sonora felt welcomed. The atmosphere put her right at ease, and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver reminded her of her aunties and uncles back home. If a visitor came to your door, you treated them as one of your own.

Another wave of sadness hit her and she sunk into the tiny dining room chair. She wanted to go home. A day had barely passed and already she wanted to walk through her front doors and sink into bed between her mother and father like she did as a small child.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

Jarred from her thoughts, Sonora looked to Mrs. Beaver and answered, "Sonora, miss."

"Oh, like a song bird. How beautiful!" The female rodent clapped her hands together before pouring them all tea.

Alright, she thought, I love them. The two beavers bickered at each other constantly, but she could feel the love between them. Sonny couldn't help but smile at the duo.

After drinking her tea, Sonora felt surprisingly calmer. So much so that she felt like she was going to fall asleep at the dinner table. Mrs. Beaver ushered her into a spare room set with a bed small enough for a toddler. The girl barely closed her eyes before she heard the faint forced whispers between the two animals.

Sonora couldn't make out what they were saying, but she knew enough from hearing her parents in the same manner that is was about her. Tomorrow is a new day, she thought. I hope it's better.

OOO

The next week was spent helping the beavers around their dam. It was a blessing that they kept her so busy but it also annoyed her because all Sonny wanted was an explanation of her situation.

The drugs hadn't worn off like she previously hoped, and the pain she felt from getting hurt further disproved her thoughts of lucid dreaming. Her bruised knuckles from punching her school bully slowly turned from a rogue purple to a muted green. Her hand still ached when she flexed it open and closed, but it didn't stop her from being helpful. The sprained thumb happened when she hammered a bolt into the door hinge. The black eye appeared when Mr. Beaver threw a rather large piece of wood her way, thinking she would catch it.

Sonora's tasks ranged from helping gather wood for the fire, repairing damages to the dam, and gathering a various assortment of winter berries. The last part was a little harder than the others since she didn't know anything about the flora or fauna of Narnia.

"What in the-! Blimey, Sonny, if we eat tha' we'd be dead within the 'our," Mr. Beaver reprimanded. Sonora cursed and threw the green berries to the ground. She huffed in frustration and tried again.

The work was hard but she enjoyed the mental strain. One fruit could look very similar to the other, whether it be the shade or shape. After a few days, she was picking edible berries left and right.

At night, Sonny would lie in bed with tears running silently down her cheeks. She missed home more than she could fathom. This was the longest she had been away from either of her parents and the absence of both was taking a toll on her. By now, her fist was nearly healed. This lone fact made her question the truth of her predicament.

Did this mean Narnia was real, the talking animals were real, and her appearance here was perhaps no mistake? Each question she asked herself made a pit in her stomach grow.

The next day, Sonora managed to sneak off without the beaver duo noticing. She needed a reprieve from their constant company.

Sufficed with the distance, the girl plopped down at the base of a large willow and pulled the book from her pocket. Its pages had dried completely and were now crinkled and stiff. Curiously enough, when she opened to scour its contents, the pages were blank.

Blank? No, thats not possible... A panic so sudden shot through her chest. A cold sweat broke on her skin as she flipped through countless pages, praying - hoping - that she was imagining it.

She chuckled softly until it grew into hysterical laughter. It was all gone. All of it. The book may as well have been blank to begin with; empty.

Her laughs turned into sobs now, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Sonora had never been so scared and hopeless in her life before. There was no one to turn to, and she felt completely alone. This pleasant dream suddenly became a nightmare and the harsh truth was beginning to settle in her bones like cement.

Sonny could no longer lie to herself and pretend the last week had been nothing but a homesteader dream. She had felt the throbbing in her thumb from jamming it, the stars in her eye when she blackened it, the ache in her belly from eating too many berries, and the snow that never seemed to end.

The girl slipped the book back into the pocket of her hoodie and stood. She was still hiccuping, but wiped her eyes and gave herself a few soft pats on the cheeks to focus herself. What was she going to do now?

The only answer she could come up with was nothing.