singillatim | [open] the lamp is burnin' low upon my table top, the snow is softly falling

Who: Benton Fraser, Diefenbaker, and you!

What: Woodworking, guitar playing, ice skating, and more

When: Through February

Where: In Milton, at the basin, in the woods, others tbd.

Content Warnings: mention of animal butchery, hunting, others tbd.

[ Even in this icy weather, it's a good idea to preserve meat rather than simply stashing it, raw, in the snow, and so Fraser can be found in the first weeks of February in the woods, seeking out a likely-looking tree trunk, either fallen or still standing. Once found, he brings tools and begins hollowing the thing out, working steadily with Diefenbaker either lazing beside him in the snow or off in the woods, hunting for himself.

When the log is hollow, he hitches Dief in a jury-rigged harness attached to leather straps around the log and together they haul it back to the house where he's been staying with Heartman. Once back in town, Fraser can be found hammering nails and hooks inside the hollowed trunk, humming quietly to himself as he works. He'd be more than happy to answer any questions, should someone stop by to ask what he's up to. ]

ii.

[ Before he found the right trunk, while he was out in the woods, something else had happened in the early days of the month. Diefenbaker had gone stock-still and focused at his side, and when Fraser looked up, he'd seen the thing that had so caught the wolf's attention: a dog, enormous and mossy, watching them from among the trees.

No amount of calling and cajoling brings the best toward them, but when the dog had begun walking off Dief had followed without hesitation, leaving Fraser to come along or no as he would. They'd followed the strange animal on what began to feel almost like a path through the woods, strangely clear and easy to move along despite no signs of having been cleaned or kept up by man. It was hardly a surprise at all when the path led to a cabin he'd never seen before, sitting empty and cold but neat and sturdy for all that. He'd left Dief outside with the strange dog and gone to look for any signs of life.

There were none. The cabin was empty and mostly bare of supplies, but in the bedroom he found an impossible treasure: an old six-string acoustic guitar, tucked carefully away into its case. Even better, when he'd carefully lifted the thing out to inspect it, he'd found the case contained even more riches: extra packets of strings, a few picks, even a somewhat stiff capo.

Now, when he's finished work for the day, Fraser can be found on the porch steps of the house on Thompson's Drive with the guitar in his lap. On the first evening, he'll be there stringing it; on subsequent evenings someone might hear the rippling sounds of a fingerpicked accompaniment and a pleasant baritenor voice singing along. ]

ii.

[ But the Mountie isn't always in the woods. After an excursion to what remains of the outdoor gear store, he can also be found down on the frozen Basin, accompanied by the hissing sound of his hockey skates over the ice as he makes long loops or short sprints or simply skates backward in long, graceful swoops. Or perhaps someone nearby might hear the smack of a stick hitting a puck and the muffled thunk of said puck driving into a snowbank.

There's another stick and more pucks on the bank, just in case anyone would like to join him in his games. ]

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[He'd know the stories if they were told to him - he'd made up some of them himself to pass on to the rescue parties as they passed through.]

A sudden surge in human activity. [He pauses, then decides to give the other man at least a portion of the truth.] And the influence of one angry, vengeful god.

[ He knows Ray thinks the stories he tells, the ones he grew up with, are just parables. Metaphors. Ray doesn't believe that there could have been a time when gods and men walked the earth together, creating and destroying and warring and loving. Even if he did, he certainly doesn't believe that time never truly ended.

But there's magic in the world. Fraser's always believed that. And where there is good magic, there is also harmful. He looks grim, thinking of La'an, thinking of what Levi told him. ]

Do you think we may be facing something similar here?

[ He, at least, has no other explanation for the strangeness of the animals and the absence of game. ]

[His brow creases. There is magic in this world, how else would they all be here in the first place? The dead walk and strange animals give gifts.

Crozier clears his throat softly.]

I think we may. Something malevolent in nature.

The Darkwalker.

[ The thing everyone is talking about and no one knows enough about. ]

It killed my friend.

[ And this loss is still almost too raw to touch, but his eyes and voice are steady. ]

I think you're right, sir.

[It killed his friend. Crozier dips his head, sympathetic but attempting condolences at this point in time. He doesn't want it to not sound genuine.]

It seems to be doing harm to more than just the unfortunate souls brought here. Nature seems to be fighting back, but I'm not certain how long its strength will last.

[ He appreciates the older man's quiet consideration, along with how he doesn't attempt to console him for his loss. He keeps the grief near to his heart, along with the still-fresh sorrow for his own father, but his mourning is quiet. And private.

And they have more pressing matters to which they ought to attend. ]

Have you heard the woman in the Aurora, the one who sounds so sad? I wish we could speak to her, learn from her.

[He knows a thing or two about mourning. One could say he's a veritable expert in it.]

I've heard her faintly, yes. [He frowns thoughtfully.] Do you think she's at odds with the other creature? The Darkwalker? [And what could that possibly mean?]

I think she isn't its friend.

[ Which doesn't mean that she's actively working against it, even if she can, but she may turn out to be one ally. One more than Methuselah, at least. ]

But there's much we need to learn about this world. If the Darkwalker exists, what else might?

[But is she their friend? He can't be certain.]

If stags and boars that grant wishes exist and strangers from distant lands can be brought together by an Aurora.... [He shakes his head.] I feel sometimes as though we're in a fever dream.

It’s certainly the strangest situation I’ve ever been in.

[ Fraser looks around at the winter woods, the silent birches. The sun slants through the trees in the particular way it has this far North, never far from the horizon at this time of year. ]

But familiar, too.

[ Courteously, he gestures towards the path he’d been taking. ]

I need to see to my traps. Would you care to accompany me?

[He appreciates a man who knows what he's doing in this kind of climate, or at least can put on a good show, but he admires someone altruistic in nature. He thinks about his own foul string of luck and wonders if the man's traps are any different than his own.]

I would, yes. Thank you.

[He adjusts the hood about his head and joins him in stalking a little prey, happy to talk in vague terms about the Darkwalker and other oddities.]

[open] the lamp is burnin' low upon my table top, the snow is softly falling

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maybe for fade?

Perfect!!