HtH121 - INTERREGNUM The Little Ones Talk And Move About
EXECUTIVE SUMMARY: An orange fox returns to a familiar place.
There is a special clearing in the forests just outside our theatre home. It is hidden well from human eyes, and it is said that you can only reach this place by intentionally taking a wrong turn on the park path.
Such is the nature of this place that it attracts little ones from far and wide, for no other reason than to meet and be merry. Warm, glorious afternoon sun shines down upon this clearing, and light melody drifts from its center.
Observe, a cozy quartet of cats playing the strings. Each of them a different color, a black one, an orange one, a white one, and a grey one. They sit in a line turned inwards, one resting a cello on the ground, and the other three nestling their violins and violas near their head. They play a serene tune to the delight of their forest friends.
Pip paused at the edge of the clearing before stepping into the sunlight.
She had wandered farther than usual today, following scents that had no business being followed and butterflies that had no intention of being caught. A little satchel hung from her shoulder, carrying nothing particularly useful and several things she had convinced herself were treasures. A smooth pebble with a heart-shaped mark. Two curious feathers. One acorn cap that fit perfectly atop another acorn cap.
All indispensable, naturally.
As her paws touched the soft grass, a few familiar ears turned her way.
A family of field mice, busy arranging an impossibly grand picnic atop a tree stump, lifted tiny teacups in greeting. A pair of squirrels, in the middle of a very serious discussion regarding the ownership of a pinecone that neither could remember finding, simultaneously forgot what they were arguing about and waved instead. Even the dragonflies seemed to drift a little slower through the shafts of afternoon light, as though the melody and the sunshine had entered into some quiet agreement that nothing here needed to hurry.
Pip's tail gave an involuntary swish.
She had not realized how much she had missed this place until the forest stopped feeling like a forest and began feeling like home once more.
The music carried on, unbothered by arrivals and departures alike. It had that curious quality possessed only by songs often played among old friends. One could join in halfway through without ever wondering where the beginning had been. One could leave before the end and somehow still feel as though the tune had seen them safely on their way. 🎻🌿
"Welcome back, Pip! My, what a different look you have on now! Would you like some cake?" One of the field mice pull up a tiny wooden chair next to the picnic stump, welcoming the now orange fox. Even changed, Pip was still unmistakably Pip. As she took her seat amongst the forest friends, she could not help remark how much things had changed, and how little things actually did change.
Happy drinks still overflow from golden teacups, and the picnic is well stocked with a vast selection of pastry delights. Some were foreign to her, and she sniffed at a cake with a yellow, creamy texture. Recoiling--- she wondered what fruit with strong scent was used to make it! Seeing this, one of the older mice cut a nice slice of cake layered with purple grape filling.
"Perhaps Durian is too exotic an ingredient for you... For you, Pip! Where have you been all this time? Rover and Darksteel say that you have been on an 'inter-dimensional adventure'. But oh, you know well how they like to dramatize things!"
Gratefully, the now-orange fox nimbly bites down on the cake.
Pip chewed thoughtfully, his ears giving the smallest contented flick as the sweetness of the grape filling settled the matter far better than words could. He swallowed, looked around the familiar gathering, and found every little face waiting with the patient expectation peculiar to those who had all afternoon and no pressing obligations whatsoever.
"...I think Rover is only half wrong," Pip admitted.
That answer immediately proved dangerous.
A young hedgehog gasped so dramatically that he nearly rolled backwards into the grass.
"I knew it!"
"You didn't know it," corrected a robin perched overhead.
"I had a feeling."
"You said she'd gone to buy mushrooms."
"I had... two feelings."
Gentle laughter wandered around the picnic like a breeze through tall reeds.
Pip smiled despite himself.
"I don't know if I'd call it an adventure." She scratched lightly behind one ear, searching for words that could somehow fit experiences much larger than the clearing itself. "I met many people. Some were frightened. Some were very brave. Some were both at once. There was a great house..." She paused, a warm note finding its way into her voice. "...and some very kind girls."
The quartet continued their melody without interruption.
Curiously, none of the little ones seemed surprised by that last part.
The oldest field mouse merely poured another cup of tea, as though "a great house filled with kind girls" was precisely the sort of destination Pip would stumble into if left unattended for long enough.
"Oh," she nodded pleasantly. "That sounds like somewhere that would suit you." 🌿
"It does suit me quite well! So much that I have not come back for some time---"
Satisfied with the grape-filled treat, Pip sits upright instead of on his fours now. Jam filling around the side of his mouth, his tiny little plush arm fits into the handle of a teacup, and he brings it up in a toast, which the other forest friends seated around the table return clinks with him. Glancing around the table at faces familiar and unfamiliar...
"There are so many new faces here," Pip remarks, glancing around the table, "I'm sure that when I was here last, there was no band playing---"
"Our new friends from the corner store in town!" The robin chirps enthusiastically from above, swaying its body and bumping into a sleeping white owl next to it, "Their entire family stays at Mrs Elmsworth's, this here is Black Fur, Big Orange..."
While the robin goes into a recounting of the extended family line of cats that live at the corner store, Pip thought that he had noticed a familiar face--- a blue colored bunny sitting at the table nibbling on a cookie. Unfortunately, there was no spark of recognition back, it must have been a close relative of someone she once knew. The blue rabbit tips its train conductor's hat by bowing its head slightly,
"I say, you have been to the house on the lake? Twas' only recently I have arrived here when the train station was built." The blue rabbit continues thoughtfully, "You must have many wonderful tales, living there!"
Pip's ears perked.
"The station has been built already?"
The blue rabbit nodded with unmistakable pride, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from the brass buttons of his little waistcoat.
"Right on schedule."
"Well..." muttered a mole somewhere beneath the table. "More or less."
"Mostly on schedule."
The mole gave a diplomatic cough.
The conductor continued as though no interruption had occurred.
"It is a modest station, to be sure. One platform, a waiting room, and a ticket office that is occupied only when someone wishes to buy a ticket. Which, I am pleased to report, happens from time to time."
"Where does it go?" asked Pip.
"Wherever it is needed."
"...That seems rather vague."
"It is a railway."
Nobody around the table questioned this answer.
In fact, several nodded with complete satisfaction.
The blue rabbit smiled into his tea.
"The rails are peculiar things. They have an unfortunate tendency to connect places that ought to meet one another. Yesterday we welcomed a ladybug carrying three suitcases. Last Tuesday an elderly tortoise accidentally purchased a return ticket to tomorrow. We are still expecting him."
A ripple of understanding passed around the picnic.
"Perfectly normal," the robin whispered to Pip.
"Railway business," agreed the field mice.
The conductor inclined his head once more.
"But forgive me. I interrupted your story. I should very much like to hear about the House on the lake."
He folded his paws neatly atop the table.
"Not because it is famous."
A tiny smile appeared beneath his whiskers.
"But because places become rather extraordinary when someone returns from them with fondness in their voice." 🚂🌿
For an instant, Pip's fox smile beams even brighter than usual, wonderful memories of the house coming back to him, like a lamplight that illuminates a room painted with happy scenes. There is the blue-haired tinkerer who is adamant at proving that she can in fact, speak and move about, the warmth from Lumi's hugs when she is about to go to bed, and then there are the little midnight escapades the two purple-haired girls of the house get up to these days...
Pip is not in a rush.
She lifts a silver spoon,
once,
twice,
thrice.
Three lumps of sugar, unstirred in her already refilled teacup.
"Then, a happy story! This is a tale that I personally witnessed with these eyes of mine..."
The other members around the picnic table lean in, tails swishing in wonder.
Hell's Theatre, continues.
We are trying something different! This is a simul-posting at the same time as the Scribblehub release! Go check out the entire series at this link!
