“Why does the sun no longer cradle me in her warmth?” Asks the hare as she shivers. “Now all the color has drained from my coat, and my ears are soldered black from the cold. You, too, look painted like the moon.”

He snorts, and steam weaves through air, “Must you state all your woes through poetry? You look fine. A red hare in the snow would be as obvious as blood. This way, we are both safe.” He flicks his bushy tail.

“But what am I supposed to eat?” She shuffles her long back legs, aimlessly sniffing the air. “There is no green anywhere. Everything is dead.” She studies him for a moment. “And you, what will you eat?”

“The mice have not fled with the sun and birds.” He tells her plainly. “They’re just underneath the snow.” He turns away, raising his ears to the sun. “Follow me. I will show you where to eat.”

“You are not tricking me, are you?” She watches him warily, standing in place.

“Tricking you?” He swivels his head. “Do you believe I would do that? Don’t you remember that we’re friends?”

“You’ve grown taller since I last saw you. Are mice enough to keep you fed?”

He speaks briskly, “Mice will feed me fine.” Then continues walking, letting her choose whether or not to follow.

She hesitates, then leaps after him. “How do you know where the mice are?”

“I smell them, and I hear them crunching on buried leaves. Can’t you smell too?”

“My nose is much weaker than yours.” She confesses. “I can barely smell a thing, in this cold.” Her soft feet dance elegantly through the snow, leaving whiskery marks in their wake. The fox is much nimbler, taking great and silent strides.

“It’s just near here.” He murmurs as his footsteps slow, “I’ll use my nose.”

He pauses to sniff the air, his tail swishing idly. Then he walks again, and the hare hurries after.

“Ah-ha!” He stops, and presents his find to his friend. In front of them is a bright young tree, the bottom bark stripped down to reveal delicious green innards.

“Oh!” She gasps, “How did you find this?”

“I’ve seen the other hares come here to feed.” He tells her, “They’ve ripped out the bark, so you won’t have to do any of the work.”

“You were…watching hares?” She tilts her head at him.

“While trying to find you, of course.” He says. “I’ve been hoping to see you.”

She’s still for a moment, then smiles, and goes to eat her fill. The fox smiles back, the fur on his paws carefully concealing the streaks of warm, dark rabbit blood.