Moonsong Glacier the sun is not a-bed

It was only natural that he not understand her words, but a mouse, the dumb little creature, ran past his toes and met its end. 

He wuffed at the thing, then back to Winter Song. Again, at the pelt around her shoulders. 

Hunt? Maybe words would work? He'd heard others say it.

hhuurnt? that sounded kinda like it? He hoped it did.