Wind of Winter

The moon shines down, silvery beams casting an illuminating glow upon the surrounding area. Shadows stretch and twist in the pale light, making everything appear more sinister than it is in reality. The frosted leaves of strong, hardy evergreen trees sway faintly in the breeze, making a rustling sound as they brush against their companions.

There are woodland animals, somewhere deep in the darker parts of the woods, where nary a star is seen and moonlight never reaches. They are all sleeping soundly in tree trunks or underground, always attempting to get away from the chilled, frostbitten hands of winter, but some do not succeed.

For they have no scarf, and they have no blanket to keep them warm. They have only the fur on their bodies and the snow on the ground. They have only the wind in the sky and the trees in the down.

The woodland animals know that one must adapt to the cold or waste away in it.

They know that some will not survive the night.

They know that the foxes will likely survive, at least on this particular evening. As will the wolves.

They know that the smaller creatures may not be so lucky.

And so, as an especially icy gust ghosts through the forest, making the iced tree leaves dance and the shadows stretch and twist with them, the animals snuggle further into their own coats and furs,

And the ones that do not have sufficient warmth slowly become more lost to the world around them as snow falls in the forest.




The foxes awaken and the wolves follow. They hunger, but refuse to eat their frozen friends.

For the squirrels and hares did not make it through the evening.

But that is alright.

Because all things must end, good or bad.

And, knowing this sad and fortunate fact, they end the hunger that has been knawing them since the beginning of autumn.

Yes, all things must end.

Including hunger.