Katkin scanned her surroundings for shelter and spied an old gnarled tree, standing all alone on the edge of a meadow. Bending low, she squirmed her way inside its hollow trunk and curled up on the sandy floor. The interior of the tree was cool and dry and very quiet. Though it seemed she had escaped, she could not help crying bitterly for many minutes.
After carelessly wiping her nose and eyes on the silver dress, she settled back to take stock of her circumstances. They were grim. So grim, in fact, it took her a few moments to notice that the robe had turned a brownish color, to match her surroundings, and had somehow developed long sleeves and a cowl to ward off the chill. She raised the hood to cover her face partially, and snuggled her hands deep within the sleeves. Thus warmed, it d
