A white flake slipped through the burrow door and landed on Hazelhop’s nose.
Hazelhop looked up. The wind hissed in the roots. “Snow already? Hurry, Hazelhop, hurry!”
Hazelhop grabbed the basket and bounded outside to get ready.
Hazelhop scooped acorns, berries, and crunchy roots into the basket.
Then the first gust whooshed through. Dry leaves flew. Three acorns bounced downhill.
Hazelhop scrambled through the whispery grass, snatched them back, and laughed. “Not so fast!”
With the basket finally full, Hazelhop thumped back toward the burrow.
Inside, Hazelhop spread moss on the bed and patted it into a round nest.
From a corner sack, Hazelhop shook out armfuls of soft fluff.
Poof! The fluff burst up like a snowy cloud and stuck to Hazelhop’s whiskers and ears. “Choo!”
Hazelhop giggled at the floating bits. Then Hazelhop saw cold silver flakes still slipping through the doorway.
Hazelhop pushed bark, twigs, and a woolly patch of moss against the drafty door.
But the wind puffed. Rattle! The pile slipped loose again and again.
Hazelhop stomped the twigs in place, tied the moss with a vine, and gave the door one big shove.
Thunk! The door shut tight. The burrow went still except for the soft crackle of a tiny fire.
Hazelhop lined up the full food baskets and fluffed the bed one last time.
Then Hazelhop curled up in the warm burrow while snow hushed the world outside.
Hazelhop smiled, nibbled one crisp acorn, and whispered, “Ready.”
