Freeze.

You’re looking out in the cold Siberian lands. It’s below 0 F, and the winds are whiplashing the wings across your face, as if they are backhanding you with multiple mighty blows. Despite this all, you’re here for one reason: the perfect shot. Even though the terrain is all the same, and the winds and snow and bitter cold is causing you pain, you still retain the edge to prevail to take the perfect picture to bring you monetary gain. You search for hours and hours, not seeing a single animal in sight, because it seems like all the birds and mice took flight away since there was never any light, so you’re here in your plight, while all the voles and moles are in their den’s delight. You’re just about to quit, but something tingles within you, and you think to yourself “Just five more minutes. Five more minutes and you’ll find a winner of a picture.” So you wander for a while, never losing sight on home, when you’ve been gone for so long, your fingers are no longer throbbing, your strength ebbing, your senses are being robbed. Then suddenly, near sunset, you hear noises. You hear the animal kingdom awakening, so you brace for the oncoming wave of lightning, and by lightning I mean all those moles and voles and birds and snakes, bears. You can barely see, but of the images you can make, you see an owl. And then you see a field mouse scavenging for food. You instantly put two and two together, and prepare yourself for the shot. CLICK. You’ve done it. And now you can go home to a warm cup of tea.


Freeze. You’ve just woken up. You’re hungry. You’re also extremely cold. Everything about you now is bitter. You’re bitterly cold, you’ve been eating bitter leaves, and you’re bitter over the loss of your own two owlets. You miss them very much. Isn’t it strange that their mother birthed them now, during this cold season, rather than during the warm seasons? It doesn’t matter to you now. All that matters is keeping alive for the winter, meaning getting plenty of food, plenty of sleep, and plenty of warmth. You’ve got two of the three, and your gizzard growls, reminding you to get over your loss, and become the sky tiger you were meant to be. A couple minutes later, you’ve stretched, warmed up your legs and wings, and are proceeding to the launch branch, from which you’ll be hunting for the next couple of hours. It is not easy searching for food during the middle of the night, so the sooner you find food; the better it is for you. The sun is just starting to go down, so now is the perfect time to search for prey. You decide the base of the tree is the best place to look, seeing as all the food those rodents would eat are located there, thanks to the generosity of the mud men that wander the area. Speaking of mud men, you see one with some kind of rectangular box thing that has something protruding from it, and its end is shiny. You think that this thing is annoying and want to get rid of it. But suddenly, you hear something. It’s the scurrying of some kind of small animal. You turn your face, and then BAM. You see a vole moving across, looking for food. The mud man looks at you, and then the mouse, and you panic over who will get the mouse. The mud man doesn’t move; you instinctively dive for the mouse, having practiced this maneuver over and over and over again. SSCHH. You’ve done it. And now you can go home for some cold fresh kill.
?

Freeze. The snow’s finally hit the ground. You don’t even need to see it; the cold from the snow permeates through the rock solid dirt and reaches your front door. But your front door only is cold, because you’ve invested in some insulation. Actually, you were supposed to get furniture from the city about two burrow systems over for your cozy den. Anyways, you wake up, and your stomach growls voraciously. The scarcity of food is really getting to everyone, not just you. Your children cry at night because they don’t enjoy the usual berry snacks they’ve been accustomed to. Even your wife is complaining, and usually she tells you to stop whining. As the man of the house, you decide that it’s time to surface for food. What food you’ll bring back is up to the fates, you think to yourself. Besides, the food stores on the surface are going to open up in about 5 minutes, so it would be a good idea to head down there and get some grub. Lately there has been some news of an owl reporting, and as a result, the mayor, Mayor Bary Nutter, has issued a no surface warning. However, you can’t stand your wife’s nagging, and your children’s cry for food; so, you suck it up and head up in the cold and dangerous white winter land. The farther out of the burrow you travel out, the more cold you feel. Something is nagging at you, telling you not to go out there, telling you to be patient for one more day. You can feel the danger literally pounding at your heart. You keep telling yourself to man up, to go do what you’re supposed to do for your family which is to provide for them. As you reach the surface, you’re met by a large layer of white packed particles of snow. After a bit of digging, you see that the store is open already. It’s already sunset. You think to yourself. Better get move along. I don’t want to be caught in the open. You’re about half way to the store, when you suddenly feel darker. As you turn, you see two huge figures. You aren’t sticking around to find out what those creatures are. You start hustling across. Just a hundred more mouse paces, and I’ll be there. SSCH. You’ve been done. And now you won’t ever go home.