Wheeling Gull Isle the lake is frozen over; trees are white with snow

She gave a quiet chuckle at the joke, but inside, her blood ran cold. "Other things," fun as they were, had usually led to children—at least in her experience. And children brought with them the potential pain of loss. And not even potential, for Maegi; at this point, she figured that every brood of hers was doomed to die young. Why wouldn't she?

Slowly, Maegi slipped from under Mou's chin and drew close by his side, nuzzling the side of his cheek. I am cold, she said softly. The closeness of him made her stomach twist. How cruel the world was, to make her want him so and yet unable to reconcile with the consequences. 

Let's run, she concluded, a tinge of sadness in her voice. It drifted off with the wind as she took off, running into the shallows, sending water and sodden sand flying everywhere. He would catch her—he always did, in more ways than one. Her hobbling gait was not meant for speed, and her heart was not meant to leave him far behind.