8:14

There were times the beaver wished he were a ruthless creature. A quick slash of a razor-sharp incisor, a bodily heave out into the cold sky, and he’d have a quick and painless solution to an unasked-for problem.

Unfortunately for just about everyone involved, the beaver, while irascible, was not homicidal, except maybe where a certain rabbit was concerned. That left the problem of the small boy currently staring at him without a quick solution. I don’t suppose I could just growl and him and send him scurrying for his covers? grumped the beaver, wishing not for the first time that beavers had a more wolverine-like reputation.

“Well, make up your mind,” the beaver snapped at the watching boy as he rose to his feet. “Are you coming or going?”

“Er, excuse me? Did you say something? Did you speak?” Albert moved excitedly towards the creature he had spotted. “Can you talk? Did you really say something?”

He slammed to a halt about a metre away from the large brown beaver. Suddenly what had seemed like a large stuffed animal took on a more ominous aspect.

“Um, are you a beaver? What’s a beaver doing on an airship? Did you talk to me? Can all beavers talk?”

“Oh, for god’s sake!” the beaver harumphed, cutting off the babbling boy’s steady flow of stupid questions. “Yes. I am a beaver. Yes. I am talking to you. And if you would just bid your flapping lips be still for a moment and let me get a word in edgewise, then yes, perhaps we could discuss what I am doing here. And, more importantly, what YOU are doing here.”

Albert paled suddenly at the reminder that he was somewhere he was not supposed to be. And that he’d just been caught. But … but … it’s only a beaver, right? He can’t get me into trouble, can he? He’s only fit for a hat; who’d listen to him?

Somewhere in all that rapid internal dialogue, Albert lost the thread of his thoughts and once again realized that a beaver was talking to him. And everyone knew beavers couldn’t talk. The very idea was ridiculous. If all beavers could talk, then they wouldn’t very well let us make hats and coats out of them, would they?

This thought seemed to prove a point to Albert. “Well, then. What is a talking beaver doing hidden away on a dirigible? Tell me that, then! Shouldn’t you be in a zoo now?”

The beaver took in the false calm of the boy and smiled to himself. Cheeky little bugger.