A Chill in the Tray

I waddled back home as night settled in, slipping indoors to seek out a proper rest. My small feet carried me straight to the kitchen, where the low hum of the refrigerator called out. With a patient tug against the cool rubber gasket of the freezer's bottom drawer, a crack opened wide enough for me to peer inside. Right there sat a frosted silicone ice tray. Slowly, carefully, I reached over the rim and touched a smooth, solid ice cube with the tip of my beak. It was numbingly crisp, square, and perfectly clear. I leaned my plush cheek against its frozen face, letting the deep chill settle into my stitches before turning in.