So, cold was a thing. A very real thing.

Subconsciously, Yama remembered the first time she was cold, filling her with an immediate hatred of the sudden drop in temperatures. Her puppy coat was slow to leave, causing her to be without the proper protection from the elements (although, even with a fully fledged adult coat, she still probably wouldn’t have thought it to be warm enough). She hadn’t been too bothered by the change in weather at first, back when she matched the leaves that littered the ground, but now those colours were gone and the trees nearly bare.

She didn’t know what type of change was going on, but she wasn’t so sure she liked it. So she took comfort in the lowest levels of the mountain, where she was sheltered from the winds and able to trot along with something close to comfort.

Terribly engrossed by the thoughts that whirled through her head, thoughts of the cold season and what came with it, she ventured forth rather absentmindedly. There was little pattern to the way in which she moved, her path directed nowhere and her movements, as a whole, graceless; she plowed along with little care for what she might disturb in her passing, the sights that brushed by hardly acknowledged. Only when the silence was broken had she come to a dead stop, heart pounding and hackles shooting up, a sidelong glance becoming the only thing keeping her fight-or-flight instincts from kicking in—because it was only her mother.

Yama relaxed and picked back up at a steady trot, tail wagging. “Hi,” she greeted sheepishly, embarrassed by her reaction; she was not always the bravest, having often relied on the signals of others to tell her how to behave in her childhood, but to be so startled was something new entirely. Perhaps it should be a lesson to her, to better analyse and be aware of her surroundings, even when tucked safely within the boundaries of her parents’ claim.

Yama made no move to avoid her mother’s touch, leaning into it instead, once she felt it; it sent a small chill down her spine, her fur parted and allowing the chill to touch her skin directly. She shot Ame a sheepish smile immediately thereafter, uncertain of how else to react. She wasn’t so sure she liked the cold, after all—it would take some serious getting used to so, more than likely, this year would not be the same year that she comes to term with the cold months and accepts them as they are.

With a slow shake of her head, she answered with, “No, not yet.” Honestly, she hadn’t even been searching for something of interest, something worth sharing, she’d simply been walking. But the question made her wonder if, perhaps, she should be looking for something—would mama be disappointed by her lack of interest? Worried by the fleeting thought, she decided against admitting the truth and, instead, asked, “Why is it so cold now?” Nice save, Yama, nice save.

Sadly, the response she received was not one that she’d wanted. To think that this was not the last time she’d experience the cold was troubling, to say the least. Her brows scrunched up as she glanced at the ground, thinking to herself. Why did winter occur? Could she stop it? Could mama stop it? She wasn’t so sure she wanted to have to deal with the cold all over again next year.

“Can’t it stop?” she finally asked, hopeful, a glance at her mother stolen. “I don’t like this. It’s too cold.” She was glad to have learned that it wouldn’t last forever, however, an entire season of such frigid temperatures just wasn’t bearable.

A few turns of the moon was a few too many for the young wolf. Would she survive? Most likely, yes, but she would be sure to complain the whole while. “I wish it’d go away,” she admitted. “Does it ever get better? Is it always this cold?” By next year’s time she’d have the appropriate coat, necessary for keeping her warm. But for now she would just have to deal, as much as the thought alone pained her.

“Can I stay with you, mama?” she had to ask. “Just until the cold goes away.” However long that would take, exactly.

Perhaps it would change, the cold that troubled her so. Mama said it would be better at times, not as cold, and the girl took her words to heart; she wouldn’t lie, she couldn’t. So the child smiled, satisfied with the realisation. She still wished for the return of the warmth but, for now, maybe the cold wouldn’t be too bad—although it displeased her a great deal at the moment, she was confident that the days to follow would be nothing less than tolerable. “Maybe tomorrow will be a better day,” she uttered aloud, putting a voice behind her hopes. Maybe, just maybe...

“Thanks, mama,” followed her wish, along with an attempt at butting her forehead against Ame’s side affectionately. “I think I’ll be okay now.” She would still complain and, when alone, whine to the wind—but as for playing the part of a bear and taking refuge in a cave, well... she could survive without.