The Feather Chapter of Winter

His family finds it strange that he would seek cover under a tree during the winter when he might be cosying up with them inside with tea and cakes. Henry enjoys the emptiness of the winter air despite his father's constant pipe smoking, his mother's fruitless attempts to mask the stench with candles and herbs, and his three small siblings' endless stories, silly songs, and perplexing enquiries.

This morning, Henry's favourite pair of boots and a thick woven blanket were enough to ward off the cold. The clouds were thin, and there was little snow. There was plenty of light to read by, but not much warmth from the sun. Henry had even been fortunate enough to locate a dry area on which to place his book stack. The stack for today was light. He had already finished three gripping adventure stories and was halfway through a gritty, exciting romance.

Henry made the blanket into an improvised garment as quickly as his fast numbing hands would allow. He quickly covered his head with the last of it. A glint grabbed the corner of his eye as he leaned over to pick up his books. Not a hundred feet away, someone was watching him from the window. His situation makes three pairs of eyes light up with laughter. Amazing, so many questions to answer.

Henry readied himself for the trial that lay ahead. reaching his whole height. A task made a little more difficult by the back of his head making a strong contact with a branch. Doubled over in agony, he clutched on to the books. But he was unaware that an owl resting overhead had been disturbed by the abrupt disruption. A snowfall that slipped beneath Henry's clothing served as their parting present. He made his way to the house, shivering, wet, injured, and ashamed. In a silent spray of feathers, a grey owl disappears. The breeze conveyed a low hoot. Did they chuckle?