Moonspear ^________________^

Sialuk took in a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. Snow was a constant now, crunching beneath paws and falling from the sky on a regular basis. The days grew slightly longer, but many of the hours were still devoid of light. She longed for the warmth of sun on her back, wildflowers, and the happy pitter-patter of young children about, even if they might not be her own this year.

Instead, it was another sound which pulled Sialuk from her wishes of future seasons: Treepie's sob.

My little bird, what's wrong? the mother asked, worried that some pain might have come from Tiuttuk's recent relieving of herself. A quick sniff of the air didn't reveal anything noticeably wrong with her daughter's liquid waste, but perhaps her unique anatomy had caused her discomfort.