A Gentle Crunch

The air was quiet. I blinked softly at the pink glow over the distant trees. I wondered if I could move. Slowly, I lifted my front paw and pressed it down into the powdery crust beneath me. A faint, crisp crunch echoed in the cold air. The snow yielded gently, leaving a small, neat shape behind. I held still, watching a single dry snowflake rest on my toes, feeling wonderfully alive.