She could feel the coldness swift through her empty log. A shiver to the morning day, as Viola drowsily peered her head out of so. Gently so, head was cold as she gazed with an auburn look to the sky, and a wag to her tail upon the realization of what it was.

The first snowfall!

Out of the log and the dance of wolves. Her voice gave a chorus of howls as she cheered and dance like within the wilds of the world, as the snow gingerly laid around to form what it should be, or melt; none that mattered as Viola celebrated the first day of snowfall, and preparness of what the hardships of winter would soon give.