"Isn't it marvelous? The ponds will be stiffening with ice soon and we can practice our slides," he called from atop a half buried log.
"But you're only a few inches tall, how do you get around in this stuff?"
A puzzled look wrinkled up his already craggy face. Suddenly he pushed up from the log. Straight up in to the air he sailed until gravity took care of his feeble attempt at flight. Plunk, he slammed into the soft snow plunging immediately out of sight.
Worried I called out for him, but I should have known. Trolls are creatures of the far north after all. The top layer of the snow blasted smooth by the 35 miles an hour winds last night began to ripple in a swaying pattern. Before I knew what was happening, Oton popped out of the top of the drift in which I stood, shivering in the cold.
"Tunnels, human, tunnels of snow."
"So if I were to come out here in a few days I wouldn't be able to see you?"
Well, the cooking pit will have burned through by then, and the forge will be exposed if Uredd feels like working, but yeah, we will be under a blanket of snow for most of the winter."
"But, I'll miss you," I pouted.
"We'll be here for you any time you want to visit. Drop on by. Just be careful where you walk."
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