White, white, white.
Everywhere, and everyplace.
It it crisp and crunches. Ice has slicked the stones and cracked the trees.
COLD WIND bends my whiskers back as I scowl at the unpromising landscape.
A deep chilling blanket hides all.
The wind is bitter and bites. I bite back impatiently.
Yesterday, the ground was brown and soft, yeilding under my paws.
Springtime stirred in tiny whispers just beneath the surface.
All I did was go to sleep.
And now I sit here,
EyeBall Deep.
Mister Claudius
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