The second chapter is out! Enjoy :)
Beaver usually enjoyed helping her father at the workhouse and then going to the playground. It was an opportunity to relax, play tag with her friends, and swing so high she thought she could touch the clouds. However, the playground did not seem as exciting after she discovered the button-eyed doll. The strange doll safely nestled in her hand kept coming back into her mind.
In her hectic beaver life, the doll had turned into a kind of puzzle, a silent question mark. When she had a moment of peace, she would frequently pull it out, turn it over in her paws, trace the tidy stitches of its mouth, and gaze into those eerie button eyes. She had a feeling that it was more than just a discarded toy, but she could not quite place it.
Mrs. Beaver, her mother, was frequently occupied with entertaining Kit, their younger brother. Kit was a bundle of toddler energy with his lighter fur and one small tooth. Mrs Beaver, who always wore her heavy, dangling earrings, had to be especially careful around him because he was fascinated by shiny objects. "Beaver, dear," her mother would say, a little louder than she should have, "watch out for your brother. He is attempting to remove my earring once more! Honestly, this child has the strength of ten beavers!"
Beaver was sitting on her bed one afternoon, closely examining the doll's button eyes, when the door was knocked on. It was Franklin, wearing his usual red baseball hat and scarf, and Fox.
"Hey, Beaver," Franklin said as he looked into her room. "Bear mentioned that you have not visited the playground recently. Is everything alright?"
Fox leaned curiously in, usually more interested in chasing butterflies than gossiping on the playground.
Beaver shrugged, feeling a little ashamed. She displayed the doll. "This is what I found."
With a head tilt, Franklin's gaze fell upon the button eyes. "It's... different," It seemed that he was not very interested. Generally speaking, Franklin liked to discuss games and rules with precise directions.
But Fox wrinkled his nose a little. "It appears somewhat eerie." He stepped backward. "Do those buttons represent eyes?"
"Yeah," Beaver said, a little defensive in her tone. "It's just a doll I found. It looks a bit like me."
"It does?" With little enthusiasm, Franklin's eyes darted between Beaver and the doll. "Well, if you're busy with that, I guess we'll head to the playground. See you later, Beaver." After exchanging waves, he and Fox left.
Beaver was somewhat let down as she watched them leave. Franklin and Fox did not seem to be as interested in the doll as Bear had been. She began to question whether she was exaggerating this odd discovery. Nevertheless, she could not get rid of the impression that the doll with the button eyes was significant in some way. It resembled a secret that was just waiting to be discovered, and Beaver was resolved to discover it.
Beaver kept spending her quiet time with the doll with the button eyes. Sitting by the window with the sun shining on the gleaming black buttons, she would wonder who could have lost it and why it resembled her so much. She would occasionally even speak to it in a low voice, asking it absurd questions like "Do you like living by the dam?" or "Where did you come from?" The doll never responded, of course, but it seemed as though she was disclosing a secret to it.
Mrs. Beaver was persuading Kit to nap one afternoon. But Kit was up to something else. With a giggle and a tiny tooth gleaming, he was running around the living room and grabbing at anything that came in his way. Kit was being gently led to his sleeping basket by Mrs. Beaver, whose normally tidy fur was a little ruffled.
Would you please try to calm your brother down for a little while, Beaver? Mrs Beaver asked in a slightly strained voice. "All I need to do is play some relaxing music."
Beaver nodded, holding the button-eyed doll in her lap while perched on a nearby stool. Beaver offered Kit the doll while her mother went to the music player.
"Look, Kit," she murmured. "See the little doll?"
With his bright eyes fixed on the doll, Kit halted his zooming and waddled over. He extended a plump hand and attempted to grasp it.
"Careful, Kit," Beaver said, avoiding touching the doll. "Its eyes are buttons."
The black circles were shiny and seemed to captivate Kit. He yelled in his toddler dialect and made small grabby gestures. For a few precious moments, he was still and quiet, his attention completely held by the doll.
Putting on a soft, flowing tune, Mrs. Beaver exhaled with relief. She mumbled, "Oh, thank goodness," "That doll seems to affect him in an odd way." She glanced curiously at the button-eyed doll, but her gaze was quickly returned to Kit, who was now attempting to chew on the doll's cloth hand. "Beaver! He is going to swallow a button, so be careful!"
Beaver swiftly withdrew the doll from Kit. The doll appeared to have the potential to be both surprisingly useful in keeping her active younger brother busy and a little creepy. Beaver had yet another excuse to hold onto the doll because of this. She had a little secret helper of her own. For the time being, it was an intriguing mystery and a surprisingly good babysitter, but she still did not know where it came from or why it looked like her.
The familiar scents of dinner began to fill the dam house as the sun started to set, tinting the sky in shades of pink and orange. It was the family favorite, Mrs. Beaver's well-known watercress stew, tonight. Normally reassuring, the scent was somewhat overpowered in Beaver's mind by the incessant interest in the button-eyed doll that sat on the floor next to her while she assisted in setting the table.
Mr. Beaver hurried in with a contented expression after a demanding day at the workhouse, his glasses a little off-center. He rubbed his paws together and exclaimed, "Ah, the smell of a good, hearty stew!" "Exactly what a diligent beaver requires!" He noticed the doll sitting next to Beaver. He laughed and said, "Still got that odd thing, eh, Beaver?" without pressing the matter.
Kit, whose mealtime was typically for a three-year-old, sensed that something exciting was happening and walked into the dining room with his one tooth shining. Talking excitedly, he gestured to the doll with the button eyes. Mrs. Beaver sighed amiably as she carried a steaming pot of stew. "That is Beaver's... foundling, my dear." With caution, she set the pot on the table. "Now wash your paws, everyone! "Supper is ready!"
The talk revolved around Beaver as they all sat down to eat. Mrs. Beaver talked about Mrs. Muskrat's new batch of blueberry muffins, and Mr. Beaver related a humorous story about a fugitive log at the workhouse. Beaver listened, nodding now and then, but her eyes continued to stray to the doll. It sat in silence, its button eyes seemingly fixed unblinkingly on the distance.
Kit abruptly grabbed the doll out of his tiny booster seat. Beaver reacted fast and yanked it away. She snapped, "Careful, Kit!" a bit too harshly.
Mrs. Beaver gave a small frown. "Be kind to your brother, Beaver, my dear."
"Sorry," Beaver muttered, a little agitated. She held the doll close to her chest. Simply put, it felt significant.
Ever the practical one, Mr. Beaver shifted the conversation. "So, Beaver, is there anything noteworthy that occurred at school today?"
Beaver told her father about Mr. Owl's lesson on river currents while attempting to concentrate on his question. However, a tiny portion of her thoughts remained focused on the button-eyed, silent observer at her side as she spoke. While she was eating her stew, she kept thinking that this doll was not just any old toy. It was a clue—a curiously small piece in a puzzle that she had yet to solve. And for some reason, she felt that it had something to do with her that she could not explain.
The following morning was sunny and bright, making it the ideal day for Coach Porcupine's soccer practice. Despite Coach Porcupine's drills being a little challenging at times, Beaver usually enjoyed running around the field with her friends. In addition to being honest and strict about the rules, Coach Porcupine was also very fair and had a warm smile.
Beaver, though, had a different idea for today. Her mind was racing with unsolved questions, and the button-eyed doll was securely in her pocket. With Badger, she began to massage her elbow as they made their way to the soccer field.
"Ouch," she uttered, crinkling slightly. "Today, my elbow feels really funny."
Badger appeared worried as she moved cautiously on her crutches. "What is the matter? Have you damaged it?
"I do not remember doing anything," Beaver said, feigning pain. But it feels a little sore and stiff. I think I might have strained it somehow." For added realism, she even held her arm a little awkwardly.
Coach Porcupine was already organizing the teams and blowing her whistle when they arrived at the field. Beaver was clutching her elbow, she saw.
"Are you okay, Beaver?" Coach Porcupine raised her quills slightly in concern and called out.
Beaver approached, taking care to hold her arm. "Hi, Coach Porcupine. Today, I am experiencing severe elbow pain. I think I might have strained it. It kind of hurts to move it much."
Coach Porcupine's frank and compassionate eyes met Beaver's. She touched Beaver's elbow tenderly. "Does it hurt when I do this?"
Even though it did not hurt all that much, Beaver winced once more. "Yes, a little bit," she replied, attempting to convey that she was in discomfort.
Coach Porcupine gave a contemplative nod. All right, Beaver. We do not wish to worsen the situation. Why do not you just watch from the sidelines today? You can continue to support your team."
Beaver was relieved, but also a little guilty. "All right, Coach Porcupine. Thanks.
As she watched her friends run and kick the ball, she took a seat on the field's grassy edge. She kind of wished she was out there with them, but the mystery and the button-eyed doll's allure were stronger. With her "strained" elbow forgotten, Beaver carefully took the doll out of her pocket and started to examine it again as soon as Coach Porcupine was preoccupied with the practice. It seemed to her that the answers she sought were not on the soccer field but rather somewhere else.
Beaver was totally engrossed in the button-eyed doll for a short time. Her brow furrowed in concentration, she examined its stitched features and those odd, shiny black eyes as she turned it over and over in her paws. She was curious about its maker, why it resembled her somewhat, and why it had buttons for eyes rather than normal ones. She was determined to solve it like a small, silent puzzle.
However, the sounds of the soccer match began to seep into her mind as the game progressed. She could hear Coach Porcupine's supportive (and occasionally very detailed!) instructions, the rhythmic thud of the ball as it was kicked across the field, and the enthusiastic yells of her teammates.
Badger was sitting next to her and was immersed in the game. She was cheering loudly despite not being able to play, her voice a little breathy with excitement. As Franklin, his red hat bobbing, chased after the ball, she would yell, "Go, Franklin, go!" and wave a helpful paw. She would then exclaim, "Nice try, Goose!" whenever Goose made a heroic effort to deflect a shot.
Beaver turned to look at Badger and saw how much pleasure she was taking in the scene. Slowly, almost unconsciously, Beaver's eyes strayed from the button-eyed doll in her lap to the field's activity.
The grass was green, and the sun was shining brightly, creating long shadows. As swift as ever, Franklin was scuttling among the players of the opposing team, his small red scarf following him. Although he walked a little awkwardly, Bear was surprisingly adept at blocking shots, and his blue vest added a pop of color to his brown fur. Goose was a strategic player who passed the ball to her teammates with care while extending her long neck.
With her keen eyes and even sharper quills (thank goodness they remained flat during the game!), Coach Porcupine was pacing the sidelines and shouting instructions. "Remember to use your speed on the wings, Franklin!" she would yell. "Bear, stick to your principles!" She would also shout to the entire team, "Everyone, keep your eyes on the ball! "The dream is made possible by teamwork."
Beaver watched as the ball darted back and forth between the two teams. Everyone was hurrying so they could get possession. She watched Rabbit run quickly, his long ears bouncing, and pass the ball to Skunk, who dribbled past a defender using his slippery skills. Then she kicked the ball hard, sending it flying in the direction of the goal.
Raccoon, the goalie, jumped with unexpected dexterity, trying to catch the ball with his whiskers twitching. He appeared to have it for a tense moment, but the ball only rolled inside the net and grazed his paws!
"Goal!" With a shriek, Badger enthusiastically clapped her paws together. "Yes! Great shot, Skunk!"
The winning team's enthusiasm was infectious as they cheered and whooped. Watching them gave Beaver, who had been so focused on her doll, a little rush of excitement. The game's intensity, her friends' applause, and the sight of her teammates playing together all seemed more fascinating than the silent mystery in her lap for the first time since she discovered the button-eyed doll. While the doll remained, an odd and intriguing item, Beaver was just Beaver at this particular moment, enjoying a sunny afternoon while watching her friends play soccer.
There were many cheers and high fives as the soccer match came to a close. She could feel some of the excitement just by watching her friends, even though Beaver had not played. "Hey, how about we all go get some Mr. Skunk's ice cream?" Badger proposed after the game. It's the perfect day for it!"
They all enthusiastically agreed. In their neighborhood, people loved going to Mr. Skunk's ice cream shop. His ice cream was legendary, but it was a simple wooden shack with colorful hand-painted signs with various flavors. The classic dandelion swirl and the bolder cattail crunch are just two of the delectable and distinctive flavors he developed. The best part was that, despite the occasional slight, well, skunky smell coming from his store, Mr. Skunk was always happy. You became accustomed to it!
Beaver kept the button-eyed doll in her pocket as they made their way to the store. It was not the only thing on her mind for the first time in a long time. She laughed with Goose about a time Bear tripped over the ball, and she talked to Franklin about a humorous play he made during the game. Just spending time with her friends, taking in the sunshine and the prospect of a delectable treat, felt good.
There was a short line of parents and other children waiting for a scoop or two when they got to Mr. Skunk's. A combination of sugary ice cream and a faint hint of Mr. Skunk's... natural scent filled the air. Everyone walked up to the counter and was greeted by Mr. Skunk, who had a large, amiable smile and black and white stripes.
"Hey there, young athletes!" He boomed, sounding surprisingly upbeat. "What am I able to get for everyone today?"
Badger was at the front. "Please give me two scoops of your wild berry blast!"
Franklin placed his standard order for a dandelion swirl with extra sprinkles. Goose selected the mud pie flavor, which had a surprisingly chocolatey taste despite always appearing to be real mud. Naturally unable to make up his mind, Bear ordered a triple scoop that included chocolate chip, honey comb, and maple nut.
Beaver's turn came, and Mr. Skunk gave him a kind smile. "How are you doing, Beaver? I have not seen you in here in a short time."
"Hi, Mr. Skunk," Beaver said, feeling a little shy. "I'll have a single scoop of your new blueberry patch flavor, please."
Beaver glanced around at her friends while Mr. Skunk skillfully scooped the light purple ice cream into a cone for her. With their faces covered in ice cream of various colors, they were all contentedly eating their cones. As a bit of wild berry ice cream trickled onto Badger's paw, she was giggling. Franklin was balancing his sprinkle-covered cone with caution. Goose ate happily, and Bear already had ice cream all over his muzzle.
Beaver took a lick of her blueberry ice cream. Little bursts of blueberry flavor were mixed in with the sweetness and slight tartness. The flavor was fantastic. Beaver came to a realization while she was standing with her friends, enjoying the wonderful ice cream flavor in her mouth, the warm sun on her fur, and the sound of their joyful conversation all around her. The simple pleasure of being with her friends, enjoying a treat on a sunny day, was not replaced by the intriguing and enigmatic button-eyed doll. For the first time since she discovered the doll, she felt like herself once more—just Beaver—spending time with the people she loved. Beaver felt a little lighter and more like her former self now that she was surrounded by laughter and the delicious scent of ice cream, even though the doll was still a question mark.
How foolish she was.
For Beaver, the days that followed were a welcome change. Her thoughts were no longer tightly controlled by the button-eyed doll, which was still hidden away in her room and occasionally caught her attention. The strange mystery seemed to have been pushed to the back of her mind, creating space for her regular beaver business.
She had resumed her usual activities. It felt familiar and good to help her dad at the workhouse. She liked the exacting task of measuring and cutting wood, as well as the scent of sawdust. The change was even apparent to Mr. Beaver. He said, "You seem more focused lately, Beaver," one afternoon while they were stacking planks. "That is excellent. "Remember efficiency!"
It was enjoyable to play with Kit once more. She would be able to participate fully in his toddler games without the doll's constant distraction. They built wobbly dams out of blocks, and she patiently listened to his adorable babbling, even when she only understood half of it. As if in relief, Mrs. Beaver frequently remarked, "It is so nice to see you playing with your brother again, dear."
School seemed like usual. When she could concentrate, she found Mr. Owl's lessons on the various tree species and their leaves to be pretty fascinating. She even contributed more to class discussions, displaying her typical curiosity. Goose was happy to have her fully present again, and they shared secrets and giggles during breaks.
The playground was thrilling once more. Everything about it felt comfortable and familiar: the exhilaration of swinging high, the difficulty of playing tag with Franklin and Goose, and the friendly rivalry during a brief soccer match. She even received praise from Coach Porcupine upon her return to the team, saying, "It is good to see you again, Beaver! Your diligence truly does make a difference.
Though it was still there, the button-eyed doll's influence on Beaver's mind had diminished. As she woke up to her actual life, it felt like a weird dream that was gradually disappearing. What really mattered were her family's warmth, her enjoyment of her friends, and the fulfillment she got from her daily activities. With the doll as an oddity and a puzzle for another time, Beaver was content to be herself in the company of the people and places she loved right now. She was once again the busy, inquisitive, and joyful person she usually was, prepared for whatever adventures the day might hold.
How foolish she was, indeed.