My eyes hadn't yet opened before the first snowfall. Imagination, running wild against the darkness as my parents described the changing seasons, always prioritizing the many dangers that existed in the world above.

At night, the small, dry roots of my family's burrow would stir against mother's voice as she recited instructions for how to properly prepare a burrow for winter.

"Closing off all entrances except one, and insulating that tunnel with whatever wool or fur is at hand. No light by the door."

My parents seemed determined to fill our ears with prudent advice whenever we weren't dozing. But there are only so many different ways one can describe burrowing and stockpiling food. By the time my eyes had opened, I was hungry for something new.

There were eight of us in total. A small litter, so my father said. During waking hours, we would play tag and race around every inch of our humble burrow. When we tired, we would pile onto our bed and take turns pointing out shapes in the ceiling roots.

And yet despite our closeness, it seemed that none of my siblings shared in my voracious curiosity. At night, I’d creep out from under the quilt we all shared. By then I’d long had the burrow memorized, and could easily navigate it in perfect, pitch black, silence.

I read every book in my parents collection, twice. Between those pages, I found friends and discovered enemies that still occasionally quicken my heart today.  

Their spirits propelled my own as I sought out my first adventure. 

But I'm afraid life in the burrow was scant of pirate's treasure or dragon fire. There was only one option: up and out.

The tunnel leading outside was packed tightly with fur and detritus, just as our parents instructed. But I was sure I could find a way through. We were burrowers by nature, after all.

Packed with nothing but courage and a few nuts tucked away, I inhaled as much air as possible and dove into the tunnel.

It was slow going at first, but once my back legs found some traction, my pace quickened. Air escaped my lungs with a terrible wheeze as I crawled through tighter spots. At times I was terrified my breath would give out before I reached the other side.

I imagined myself becoming a mummified husk and a terrible surprise for my family when they finally cleared the tunnel.

Imagine what mother would say...

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