Chapter 4 - Do You Trust Us?

Now it was becoming clearer that this place seemed to be a mental construction of sorts—it made me think of Harry chatting with Dumbledore at the end of Deathly Hallows, except without all the death and despair—I felt the space to become fully curious rather than feeling like I should have been worried or upset somehow.

Was it all in my head? Yep. Did that make it any less real or meaningful? No way. Brains are weird and wonderful places, and this one was mine.

So I asked every question that came to mind, whenever it popped up, without worrying about being too much. They were all parts of me, after all, and if there’s anything I know about myself, it’s that I love to dig deep.

“How can all this feel so much like home, but also like I’ve never been here before?”

“It feels familiar because it’s yours, dear. It always has been. You just weren’t quite ready to come exploring before.” Maple peered at me over her spectacles with a warm smile, her knitting needles clicking away like a soothing metronome in the background.

“But I’ve tried before, haven’t I?”

“You’ve tried to force it. Yes.” Bramble spoke bluntly, but not unkindly, and I turned to look at her.

“Remember those self-help rabbit holes you’ve dived into? Speed-reading all the books you could get your hands on and feeling like you had to apply everything immediately because you could see the potential so clearly?” Peach pausing to lick a frothy milk mustache off his muzzle.

“I may have taken those as a step-by-step guide to life, yes.” I laughed softly.

“We’re good at that.” Bramble nodded in confirmation.

“And do you notice how this feels… different?” Peach asked with a flick of his tail dangerously close to the hearth. Bramble quickly blew out the tiny flame that had sparked without him being any the wiser, and couldn’t suppress a fond smile as she turned back to her coloring.

I nodded, letting that sink in. “I suppose I’m pausing and noticing what clicks in the moment, rather than bouncing from one ‘solution’ to the next feeling like this is the one.”

“There you have it. Solution.” Maple smiled, her eyes on the knitting.

I grinned as it dawned on me. “I’m looking to understand. Not fix.”

Peach curled up in a lazy chair and Bramble sat down with a large book in her lap and a satisfied smile on her face.

“I go overboard, though” I said.

“Of course we do. Have you seen waht you’re trying to manage all at once? And that’s without Mr. Wolf and your Little Otter taken into the equation,” Peach said, his chin resting on his front paws. “The important part is that you’re no longer looking to fix, but to manage.”

I looked at the critters surrounding me and felt a surge of love for them all.

“We’ll be here for the hard parts, my dear. But it’s all right to enjoy this moment without thinking of what might—or will—be. No overthinking, no rushing ahead. Just this.”

“But what if I’m using this as an escape and I’m just… hiding? You hear about people avoiding real life through fiction all the time, right?”

“Does it feel like you are?”

“I don’t think so.”

“There you are, then.”

“But what if I can’t trust myself?”

“Do you trust us?” Peach asked.

I considered that for a moment, but the answer was clear from the start. “I do.”

“Well, then.”

I chuckled and leaned into their touch as Peach snuggled into my lap, his fur soft and warm against my hands. Bramble’s small hand rested gently on my knee, her touch grounding and familiar. Miss Maple set her knitting aside, her soft steps pad-pad-padding on the wooden floor as she waddled over to join us.

The faint scent of books and woodsmoke hung in the air, and the quiet crackle of the hearth wrapped around us like a comforting blanket, enveloping us in a cozy stillness.