Hushed Willows pa rum-pa-pum pum

“I’m Faye,” she says, looking over the water. The concept of seasons has thrown her for a loop lately, especially with all the hubbub of the adults around her. They hardly have time to properly teach her the things she has many, many questions about. She remembers days that are hot, and then warm, and now cold and she doesn’t really like it.
 
Carefully, the girl steps up and puts her paw on the frozen bank. “Can you walk on it?”