The fox heard the vole under the snow and dove several times. Each time it came up empty. It was very hungry, so it padded on a ways through the deep snow, then sat down to think, or at least to listen.
Nearby, hungry wolves were calling to one another. They would have been glad for something as small as a vole, could they hear one as the fox could. For they hadn’t made a kill in more than a week.
In tunnels under the snow, the voles were having a merry time. It was warm in the tunnels, and soon, after the snow melt, they would bask in the summer sun. Life could not be merrier.
The fox heard one of the voles and made another dive. It did not come up without a prize. Happiness had now been transferred to the fox. Nearby the wolves continued to howl.
Copyright 2013 George Lowell Tollefson