Chapter 2 - The Studio

The wooden door yielded easily to my touch, its rough surface surprisingly comforting. Like the worn edges of a favorite book.

The space that revealed itself felt like Bag End, Howl’s Moving Castle, and the atmosphere of my earliest stories all in one.

The walls had a natural curve to them, more grown than built. Carved by memory. Not sure where that came from, but let’s roll with it.

“Go on,” Peach urged, giving the back of my legs a nudge that nearly buckled my knees. As soon as I took the first step inside, he darted past me, clearly on a mission.

Bramble held onto my fingers with her full paw and followed me across the threshold. Her presence provided a grounding comfort, like a cozy blanket on a chilly day.

Inside, shelves brimmed with books and notebooks, jars of things I couldn’t quite place but was instantly obsessed with and brushes worn with use.

A sharp contrast to my collection of brand-new supplies at home, gathering dust as they waited for the mythical day I would actually use them. Because nothing says ‘I’m about to change my life’ like a set of new pens and a gorgeous new notebook I’ll never open.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Peach reappeared from behind a partition carrying a steaming mug of coffee. Ah, yes. More stimulants. He must have been on a mission to break the space-time-continuum with caffeine as his weapon of choice.

“What?” He grinned sheepishly. “Who am I to say no when it’s right there?” He nodded toward a coffee and tea nook that seemed to be pulled straight from Pinterest. I half expected a hashtag to pop up.

Bramble’s voice was gentle but deliberate when she broke the silence that followed. “You’ve been working on these for a while…” she said, examining a few sketches strewn across the table at the center of the studio. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

I picked one up, curious. The strokes were deliberate and sure. Impressive. “I haven’t seen these before…”

“Sure you have.” Bramble smiled with quiet certainty as she met my gaze. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

Her words lingered in the air. Unhurried, within reach when I’d be ready.

In a cozy corner near a glowing hearth sat an elderly hedgehog. How did I know it was Maple? No idea, but I did.

Knitting needles clicked gently in her paws as she leaned back in the tiny armchair that seemed made to order. The scene looked like an illustration straight out of a retirement brochure, and I was all in.

“Hello,” I ventured with a small smile, unsure and at ease all at once.

“Welcome home,” she replied with a warm smile in return, her dark eyes exuding calm and wisdom.