𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

SNOWDROP 

     I wake up by the fire. I must have passed out late last night. I groan, noticing that I left the water flap open. You idiot! Snowdrop! You could have frozen to death! 

     In the month of the Howlings, temperatures can reach subzero in a few seconds. I usually spend most of my time by the fire, sewing all the pelts I gathered last winter. My life is a simple cycle.

     During the winter I hunt and sew. During the short summer, I'll take all of the pelts and tan them. Then, I'll sew them into blankets over the winter. Repeat. I don't bother myself with stupid fantasies like company.

     Blerg. Who needs friends anyway.

     I'm fine with a simple, solitary life. I never needed anything more. Except, for those few months I lived with Old Springtrap... I shake off that thought uncomfortably. Old Springtrap is gone, like flower seeds in the wind.

     And he'll never be back.

     I go to my storage corner. One part is for food, the other for tanned pelts. Lazily, I begin to sift through the pelt storage. I pull out a half-finished blanket. It's made out of white animal fur. Hmm... This project looks promising.

     I rub the soft blanket. It seems mostly like it would be a decorative blanket, then anything else, but I can't help but feel like this is what I want to work on. Obviously, there's a lot of work that goes into making a blanket, you can't just expect things to go well.

     First off, all of your sewing materials MUST be properly tanned, or else your blanket can start to rot. And you don't want that. Next, you want to have a bit of a plan. In this case, I can tell that I intended to make a pure white decorative blanket.

     I nose around in my storage, but I can't find any other white pelts, so it looks like I'll have to wait until the summer to complete it. But I can start. Groaning, I get up and move toward the door.

     It'll defiantly be cold out, but the real question is if it's freezing out. All foxes can handle a little bit of the cold, but not even close to how cold it gets in an average, month of the Howlings. But, I think, shifting uncomfortably at the thought, you only ever have known one other fox. Maybe others are different?

     Probably not, I decide. Old Springtrap always said I was 'A beautiful representation of an average fox.' I always complained, 'I'm NOT average! just look!' and then he would laugh.

     I blink away a little bit of water from my eyes. Old Springtrap. Do I miss him? Do I not? It's hard to even think about him and the memories he brings with him. So do I miss him? Did I even truly love him, or was I just attached to him because I needed him to survive?

     I guess I'll never know. Social skills and emotions are not my strong suit. In fact, emotions are overrated.

     I open the door flap, to be met with... A wall of snow. I burrow my way up through the soft powder and glance around. The air is crisp, but not freezing, and it's snowed a lot. I head out through the trees, what I want clear in my mind.

     White animals. I want white-furred animals. There are plenty of white rabbits out in these parts, and occasionally I'll bring up a white lemming, but I know what would really make a difference.

     White Pinecat.

     White Pinecats aren't the most common around here, but they are often seen around here.  I doubt I'll find one today. Sighing, I add White Pinecats. to my mental agenda. I could go to the Lemming drifts again, or sit and sew.

     The choice is mine. Well, actually, it's sort of mine. I can't go too deep into the forest, or else I could get lost, I can go hunting and spend my time frolicking through the meadows looking for snow rabbits.

     I decide on the rabbits. Rabbit fur is soft and warm. When it's tanned, it makes excellent blankets. Or bait for bigger predators, like Pinecats.

     I stop in my tracks. That's it! I can bait a Pinecat to complete the blanket. Grinning, I trot out into the open.

* * *

     The young fox was miserable, cold, and grumpy. He was feeling like he could die. What was he doing out here anyway?

* * *

     I fly past a small, cold stream, hot in pursuit of my furry target. The rabbit whizzes ahead. It leaps over a rock, tumbles into a snowdrift, and scrambles to its feet. I hurdle myself over the rock and land a hairsbreadth away from the rabbit.

     The small rodent freezes for a half second, before falling onto its back and skidding away. Me and my prey bound through the icy clearings, causing clouds of powder snow to plume up in my wake.

     I dart back through the trees, pine needles smacking my face. Finally, finally, we reach a small creek. I stop and crouch down behind some bushes. The rabbit glances around carefully before it leans down to lap at the cold water.

     I pounce, landing squarely on its back The rabbit squeals and twists out of my grasp, floundering into the water. My paw lashes out, pinning the rabbit with its head underwater. It thrashes, water droplets flying everywhere.

     I sigh and wait for the rabbit to slump and go still. I hate hunting rabbits, but it must be done. "Why must all rabbits be so messy?" I grumble, working on the rabbit.

     The rabbit is fairly easy to work with. I have to make it look like it died naturally. Pinecats aren't idiots, you know. I carefully place the rabbit behind a rock, curling it up into a small ball. I begin to rummage around in the undergrowth, pulling out long, thin sticks.

     The sticks can be woven together now, using all sorts of materials. I myself never leave without a small pouch tied around my neck. It has a roll of string in it, so I'll use that. "Stupid rabbits, they're always too hard to kill," I grumble, snapping a stick in half.

     "It didn't look like you were having a hard time," a voice says from behind me.

A.N

Hello everyone. I changed the name from Linx to Pinecat because people were getting confused.