the entire night. No one noticed anything strange, even though every once in a while the hunter would shiver and chatter his teeth.
Now it was Sunday morning. When he opened his eyes he truly thought he was living inside a very real dream. His window was wide open and a harsh, icy, snowy wind was blowing through, making his room ice cold. The window sill was covered in an inch of fresh white snow. There was a thin coating of snow all across the bedroom floor. Even with all his clothes on the hunter was shivering, and when he reached for a blanket he found his arms wouldn’t move. In a flash of panic he looked from side to side and saw each wrist was tied to a corner bedpost. He tried to move his legs and found his ankles were tied together in a tight knot. Looked like one of his old flannel shirts had been ripped into strips, and the strips were being used to tie him down to his bed.
“What the …” the hunter started to say.
“Hello young hunter. We meet once again.”
It took a few seconds before the hunter realized he’d heard that serious and stern sounding voice before. The voice of the snowbaby mountain lion.
“What’s going on? What are you doing in my room? Why am I tied up?” the hunter said, trying to wriggle loose, but finding he couldn’t move at all.
“Ahhh, there you are, the young hunter, still full of angry questions. Thanks to snowbaby beaver’s sharp teeth and an old shirt, and with some help from snowbaby squirrel to tie some strong knots, we have found an easy way to make sure you cannot move until we are done. We have some very important business to take care of, do we not?” the mountain lion said.
“MOM!” the hunter yelled. “HELP ME!”
“Be quiet. As I’m sure you know, it’s Sunday morning. Your mother always visits your aunt and uncle every Sunday, right? She will not be back until dinner time. We will not be long, young hunter. We will make sure we are done long before she returns. Now stop your yelling. It won’t do any good.”
The hunter raised his head as much as he could to get a good look around. There was the icy, pure white mountain lion, resting on the snow-covered floor. Off to the side, sitting quietly and watching him with their pure white icy and snowy eyes, were snowbaby squirrel and snowbaby beaver. He looked up and that’s when he noticed the barrel of a rifle pointing at him. His rifle, sticking out from his top dresser drawer, aimed right at him. Standing on top of the dresser was snowbaby owl, hooting softly, also watching the hunter with it’s clear and cold white eyes.
“My rifle! What’s it doing there? Why is it aimed at me?” the hunter said.
“I have strong jaws, young hunter. I carried the rifle up there. We decided to start our business with you by having a little target practice,” the mountain lion said.
The hunter wriggled and twisted, trying hard to get loose, but not budging at all. The hunter stopped moving long enough to notice there was something taped to his chest. A piece of paper, with a large red heart drawn on. He couldn’t believe it. It was the target he had drawn the night before.
“STOP!” the hunter cried. “Don’t shoot!”
Snowbaby owl let out a long WHOOO, flapped it’s snowy wings and jumped down, landing on the rifle’s handle. The owl took a second to aim, then used one of it’s talons to pull the trigger. The hunter screamed at the top of his lungs as a rubber bullet bounced off the red heart.
“Nice shot, snowbaby owl,” the mountain lion said. “Keep shooting.”
Snowbaby owl flew up, twisted around in mid air, then landed on the handle backwards. Without even aiming the owl took another shot. The rubber bullet missed the target and glanced off the hunter’s shoulder.
“OWWW!” the hunter yelled. “Why are you doing this? I’m telling you, stop already!”
“Snowbaby squirrel, your turn,” the mountain lion said.
Snowbaby squirrel shrieked in delight, clapping it’s paws and stamping it’s tiny feet on the snowy floor. It scrambled across the icy floor, hopped onto the hunter’s desk chair, then leaped onto the top of the dresser. Snowbaby squirrel paused, trying to think of a clever way to take a shot. On top of the dresser the hunter had several hunting and gun books lying in a pile. With snowbaby owl helping, the squirrel stood the books up, lining them up and leaning them against each other until the books were in a nice neat row. The squirrel then pointed to the owl, who swooped down and grabbed the squirrel in it’s talons. It flew around the windy and snowy room several times, gathering speed, finally letting go of the squirrel over the dresser. The squirrel crashed into the first book, which knocked into the second, on and on, like dominoes. As the books fell the squirrel jumped over them, landing in front of the last book just as it fell. The book bumped the squirrel right onto the rifle’s handle and in one motion the squirrel pulled the trigger. The rubber bullet zinged across the room and hit the red heart target dead center.
“Great shot, snowbaby squirrel, very clever. That shot is called a bullseye,” the mountain lion said.
Snowbaby squirrel took a bow, then slid down the rifle’s barrel. The squirrel hopped onto on the hunters bed, bounced up, twisted through the air and finally landed right next to snowbaby beaver.
“I’m telling you all, you’d better stop right now,” the hunter said. He struggled again, but could barely move. The knots were really tied tight.
“We’re almost done, young hunter. You have to learn to be patient, do you not? Snowbaby beaver, your turn,” the mountain lion said.
The beaver wasn’t a fast mover, so it took it’s time, thinking of what to do. Finally the beaver pointed to snowbaby owl. The owl flew down, grabbed the beaver and gently placed the beaver onto the rifle’s handle. The beaver then pointed to snowbaby squirrel, using it’s paws to trace a square shape in the air. It took a second for the squirrel to understand. On the hunter’s desk were a pile of compact discs. The squirrel jumped up, grabbed a CD, and threw it into the air. The beaver took aim and fired, the rubber bullet hitting the CD and cracking it’s case. Snowbaby squirrel clapped its paws and made a gleeful chirping sound. The squirrel continued throwing up the discs and the beaver hit and cracked every single one. The whole time this was going on the hunter was yelling “STOP! LET ME LOOSE!”
When there were no more CDs, the beaver covered it’s eyes with one paw, pulled the trigger with the other, and fired a direct bullseye at the red heart target. The squirrel chirped happily and the owl hooted and hooted. The beaver motioned to the owl, who then flew the beaver onto the hunter’s bed. The beaver ripped off the red heart target, put it in it’s mouth, and chewed the paper until was just a pile of tiny wet shreds. The beaver spit out the shreds, shaped it into a ball, then tossed it to the squirrel. The beaver shuffled off the hunter’s bed and landed on the snowy floor. The squirrel threw the paper ball up, and in one motion the beaver twirled around and batted the ball through the open window with it’s wide flat tail.
“Nicely done, snowbaby beaver,” the mountain lion said. “Young hunter, listen to me. We are almost done. Like I have already said, all of your yelling and screaming is doing no good at all. Do you understand why we are here?”
The hunter stopped yelling long enough to answer, “Because you’re all a bunch of idiots?”
The mountain lion sighed. “Will you ever learn? Being so stubborn that you cannot see right from wrong is bad enough. Being foolish and refusing to understand you have broken your promises is even worse. You have a cold, cold heart, young hunter, that is for sure.”
The mountain lion, it’s snowy and icy body so sleek and graceful, jumped onto the dresser. It grabbed the rifle in it’s powerful jaw and hopped back onto the snowy floor. The mountain lion placed the rifle in it’s box and the squirrel and the beaver moved the box until it was right in front of the open window.
“There. The rifle is now ready. We are done with you, young hunter. We have tried. It looks like we have failed. Remember, I warned you, if you break your promises, you will receive a visitor. I can see on your cheeks, even though you try to hide it, that Frostybear has already
visited you for the first broken promise. When you killed our poor friend the fox, you were hunting illegally. Surely you know that?”
“I’ll hunt when I want to, not when you say it’s okay,” the hunter said.
The mountain lion, pacing back and forth across the snowy floor, said, “It’s not me, it’s the law, foolish young hunter. You break the law, you have to answer for it. You have been warned. Your second promise was to bring the rifle back yesterday. Instead you went out with your friends.” The mountain lion stopped and leaned it’s head towards the window. Cutting through the icy wind was a faint growling sound. “There. Can you hear it? Frostybear is coming. Get ready, you foolish, stubborn, impatient, stupid young hunter. Once Frostybear does what needs to be done you will know the true meaning of a cold heart.”
Once the last words were spoken the mountain lion jumped through the open window and landed safely in a soft snow drift. The rest of the snowbabies followed.
The hunter yelled and screamed, twisting and wriggling as hard as he could, but he couldn’t get free. The icy cold wind blew harder and harder. The growling sound was coming closer and closer. Large pieces of pure ice and fresh snow were now pouring through the window and swirling throughout the entire bedroom. The wind was blowing so hard the glass in