Sun Mote Copse Sleeping well, no bad dreams

He was no stranger to winter, having been born and bred in the north near the Great Lakes, but he found that his new packmates were not used to such climates. They were thin of fur, with their reddish hues suggesting deserts and warmth year round. He found one of them — the only male besides himself! — curled up within a hollowed log. Bastian approached, clicking his tongue gently. Poor summer child. It only gets colder, mein Herr,