The forest was growing colder every minute. A blanket of snow covered the tree tops. Animals scurried to their burrows and caves, and some fled the forest altogether. Those who weren’t prepared either froze or were buried. The wind howled.

Our hero heard all of this, but it did not scare him. He felt the cold air run up his spine, but he did not flinch or shiver. He thought of only one thing: getting up Snake Mountain to get the fruit, so he could save his beloved friend from starvation. With that in mind, he started to climb.

“You know,” remarked Henry to Ava, as the boy began his ascent, “I never did understand why you, of all animals, get so ill in winter. You’re a wolf. You can go out and find food for yourself. There’s plenty to eat—rabbits, foxes, squirrels. All your favorites!”

“I don’t eat those,” Ava replied. “Not anymore.”

“Oh, yes . . . that’s right. You’ve changed. You no longer eat any of the nice little creatures. But there are others. Lynxes . . . the polar bears . . . and—”

“I know that.”

But the problem was Ava couldn’t handle them one on one. She wasn’t even sure she could with his help. The boy was strong. But he was slow and clumsy in the snow. He was not yet fully grown. He had not yet mastered all of the elements. And without a pack, and considering how much slower wounds heal in winter, it was all too dangerous for Ava. It was best just to wait.

“Ah, that’s right. I forgot . . . you’d be alone! That’s the other thing I’ve often wondered. Do you sometimes miss being in a pack?”

“No,” replied Ava sternly.

“You were certainly in quite the powerful one, I must say. Maul’s gang—am I right?”

Ava didn’t answer.

“In fact, I’ve heard you were quite the ranking officer! Ho! Ho! Ho! And even more than that. I heard you two were once—”

“Would you be quiet already! Can’t you see I’m trying to watch! Buzz off!”

She ran ahead to get a closer look. Henry followed her, wagging his little tail.

Our hero had only been climbing for a couple of minutes before he realized he was carrying far more weight than he needed. So, he dropped his staff, shield and bow and arrows. Then, he dropped his green armor. It all crashed to the ground.

“There, that’s better,” he said.

The holes in the mountain fit his hands and feet perfectly. It was simply a matter of finding the fastest way up. For there were some areas with more holes than others and some patches with no place to grasp at all. He soon discovered there were also some old roots that grew down the side. If he reached one, he could use it like a rope and cover a lot of distance. He tried to reach those whenever he could. Though, he had to be careful. Some were rotten and would snap! He had a few close calls that made Ava very, very nervous as she watched.

“Wow! He’s going pretty fast!” laughed Henry. “Faster than I expected! He’s already halfway up! You’ve trained him well. You should be proud!”

“I told you to be quiet! I’m not interested in talking to you, okay? Just leave me—”

But then something caught Ava’s attention. “What? Oh no!” And she started running towards the mountain, barking. “Hey! Hey! Look out! Look out!”

Our hero only heard it faintly.

“Hmm . . . that’s strange,” he said. “Ava never barks—unless there’s trouble. Is she okay?”

He looked down and saw her running around frantically.

“Ava! What is it?” he yelled down. “Is something wrong? Hey, look how far I’ve climbed! I’m doing good! I’m alright, see?”

Henry was enjoying all of this. He broke into laughter. Then, Ava got the idea to run fast in the direction she wanted him to look. Finally, it worked. He turned his head toward the storm. And when he looked, he saw and understood why she was in such a frenzy.

“Ahh!” he yelled. Suddenly, out of nowhere, another storm cloud had formed. It was halfway between him and the greater storm that was already coming. And that meant he had only half the time he previously thought. “Wow! No way! Where did THAT come from!?”

As far as Ava was concerned, it was over. There was no way he could make it up and down in time now. It was moving fast and even more violently. It looked like a tornado. His only option was to give up.

“You can do it, laddy!” called out Henry instead. “I believe in you! You can do it! Climb! Hurry! You must go fast! Look! You’re already half way!”

“Would you shut up!” growled Ava. “What are you trying to do? Look! It’s over! Stop encouraging him!”

Henry just laughed.

“Brah! Hah! Hah! Muah, hah, hah, hah, hah!”

Our hero had to make a decision. He thought and thought. He used his brain. He looked up. He looked down. He looked back up again. He looked back down. He looked at his fingers, trying to calculate whether he had enough time. He thought so hard. But he couldn’t do the math.

“Ugh . . . hmm . . . let’s see here . . . hmm . . . umm . . . Ah, whatever!” he finally decided. “I’m going to keep going! I can do it! I know I can. I must!”

Henry saw him begin climbing again and started dancing around to celebrate, wagging his behind and cheering.

“Ooh! Hoo! Hoo! Haw, haw! Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Ava would have attacked him if she wasn’t so worried about her friend.

“I can do it . . .” the boy repeated to himself. “I can do it . . .” He kept going faster and faster, thinking of how good it would feel to finally reach the top! The proud look on Ava’s face as he got it down! “I can do it! Just a little further. I’m almost there!”

As the storm cloud got closer, however, the air grew much colder. Our hero’s fingers numbed. His joints stiffened. He became slower and struggled to grip the rock. Then the snow came. It whipped against his skin. Some of it melted—and then froze. A layer of ice began to form over him, just as it was forming over the pond below. It got into his eyes and caused his lids to stick. He constantly had to wipe them. He had not thought it was going to be this bad.

Soon, the cloud began to surround him. He couldn’t see the bottom anymore. Neither could Ava or Henry see him. The only light now came from the flashes as the storm intensified. The thunder and howling of the wind deafened him. It sounded, reader, like a train grinding and screeching on tracks—and coming straight towards him! Before long, he couldn’t see anything—not even the fruit. But he knew he was getting close.

From down below, it looked like a tidal wave in the sky crashing against the shore. And still, the worst of it hadn’t reached him.

The point soon came when our hero couldn’t climb any longer. He was too cold. It was so windy he knew he would be blown off if he dared move one of his hands or feet. But he could feel the storm getting worse. He knew that, soon, he was going to get blown off anyways. So, he took his chances and, with all of his might, threw himself up, hoping there would be something, anything he could hold onto. In mid jump, he nearly got sucked away! But, somehow, by some blind stroke of luck, his hand caught the branch of the fruit tree.

He was now flailing like a flag on a pole, no idea whether he was being blown up, down or sideways. He knew only that he had made it. He was almost there!

“Come on . . .” he moaned. “Don’t give up now!”

Lightning struck next to our hero. He flinched and almost let go. With every ounce of remaining strength he had left, he pulled himself up through the torrent, got a leg up and wrapped himself around the branch.

It was so loud he couldn’t hear his own cries—or even his thoughts. Nor could he breathe. The storm sucked away the air in front of him. Sometimes right out of his lungs. All he could do was hang on now. There was nowhere left to go.

The last thing he remembered was looking up at the fruit on the tree. It was plump, bright and red—half-covered in snow. But behind the fruit, where the wind was blowing from, was darkness. He saw the snow blowing in his face. He saw the black center coming towards him. Lightning flared all around it. It kept getting closer and colder and louder. He longed to cover his ears for fear his head would explode—but how could he let go of the branch? Then he saw a bright light.

A moment later, the branch he was on snapped! With our hero half-conscious, wrapped around the trunk, the branch launched from the cloud like a cannon. The whole thing was on fire. It skipped down the mountain-side, slamming into the rock over and over. Finally, it plunged through the pond and shattered the ice—along with most of our hero’s bones.