I shivered beneath the covers, aware of the horned fellow with cloven hooves beside my bed.
“Make it quick, foul demon…” I said, defiantly. “If it is to hell you wish to take me.”
The strange, little creature laughed. “I’m not the devil.”
“Then who are you?” I asked.
“I’m Tumnus, the fawn.”
He nodded. “Haven’t you read the Chronicles of Narnia?”
I had.
I breathed more easily. He was not beelzebub, he was a fawn; and I was not going to hell, although a sojourn to warmer climes had begun to appeal.











