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Leaf-bare's fangs still sunk into the earth, chilling the shallowest parts of the earth, sending creatures deeper below to the hidden warmth of the underground. Yet its fangs would soon retreat, the thaw would arrive, and the ground would go from a warm haven to a cool retreat. 

Today the inevitable warmth of newleaf had snuck itself into the air. Thistleroot sat outside the tunnel entrance closest to the river, basking in the brief bit of sunlight the clans got. It got longer with every day, though he barely noticed. His time was best spent underground. 

But not everything could be done in the warmth of the tunnels. Water was best when it stayed aboveground, rather than threatening the integrity of the tunnels. And with none below, he had little choice but to go aboveground. 

The tall tom hadn't been able to locate Cloverpatch or anyone else able to lend a helping paw. So Thistleroot sat on a rock, sunning himself, and waiting. Someone would come along and hopefully help him to the river.

Normally he was confident enough to make the brief trip alone. But on days like today the rivers edge could be frozen, making the trip riskier. If the ice was too solid to easily break by himself, he'd be at risk of falling in by walking on it. He couldn't see the ice, tell how far he was from its edge or if there were cracks already existing. No, in leaf-bare he required some help.

And so he waited.