Member-only story
Wolverine
The warm March sun had shone all day. Although the air remained frigid in the many shadows, out in the open the surface snow was now melting in its glare. Then, as commonly happens in early spring this far north, when the sun began to set and the shadows to grow longer across the snowy field, the partially melted snow surface froze and soon the entire meadow was covered by a crust of icy snow thick enough in places to support a walking man, thick enough everywhere to support almost any child, and plenty strong enough throughout to support the wolverine.
He ambled across the snow for the far edge of the meadow certain he would not fall through. This was his element. His wide paws were made for this; they were like snowshoes. Snow crust this thick was the same as bare ground to him.
The doe on the other hand did not have an easy time of it. Her hoofs were narrow and often pierced the crust as she stepped across it. When they did, she sank deeply into the underlying snow, and the icy edges scraped against her leg and belly. But she was starving and had left the safety of the forest for some of last year’s grass, visible now along the opposite edge of the white field. The forest clearing was wide and would take a long time to walk around and her belly was far too empty to resist the exposed shortcut.
