There was something calming about the trees. Even now, an old maid by anyone’s standards (or perhaps just her own), Impa took comfort from the strong, thick trunks that rose into the gray sky and defied the howling of the wind. She liked to think she was as strong as the pines. Impa closed her eyes and breathed in the crisp cold air, her whiskered lips stretching in a smile. She shook herself and opened her eyes. Every time winter arrived, she got even fatter than usual. Her feathers were thicker and her coat much shaggier, and for once she was happy about that.

With an amused snort she strode forward, leaving her sanctuary with the intent of seeking out company from among her sisters. Perhaps Mouse would like some company, she thought, but was distracted almost immediately by the smell of someone new. Her curiosity peaked, Impa jogged through the pine grove until she came upon the carrier: a red mare dusted all over with white, although not all of it appeared to be snow. “Hello,” Impa called with a cheery grin as she joined the stranger. “My name’s Impazienza. You can call me Impa. Mind if I join you?” She asked, dipping her head to nose some snow aside as she waited for the mare’s answer.