Moonspear I'm all out of thread-naming patterns

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.