Emberwood twenty four hour ice

Twitch had been curled up in a ball beneath the snow at the base of the offending tree, snoring softly with complete contentment: his belly was full and he was warm and comfortable. The moment could not have gotten any better for the weasel, but it was about to get a whole lot worse when Twitch was suddenly, rudely jarred awake by a loud commotion and raucous shouting. As if someone had lit his tail on fire the grumpy weasel rocketed out of the snow and shot partways up the tree trunk, his beady eyes darting to and fro, looking for the culprit, coming to rest on the fox with a heated glare.

"YOU!" the weasel hissed, fuming noticeably as his nose and mouth twitched and wrinkled. "I. Was. SLEEPING!!" With reckless defiance he leaped down from the tree, bunching up in the manner of an inchworm before springing at the fox's muzzle with his fierce little teeth bared and seeking flesh.