(Sorry I had to do it by myself- I kinda ran outta time!))
Opheliac wasn’t the best at predicting the weather. The Ranger’s newspapers, however, were. She’d stolen one to look at the weather report, and today was supposed to be a doozy of a storm.
She didn’t want her dad to be alone during the blizzard. So, bundling up the minis and wrapping a scarf around Squirtle, she made them promise to behave and stepped out into the snow to trudge over to Lysander’s den.

Lysander knew there was a storm coming- he could feel it in his bones and in his whiskers and in his poor hurt head. He’d managed to come down with an awful cold- the worst he’d had in years. He’d arranged a box of tissues and some oranges from the Ranger’s station, but other than that, he’d had to self-medicate. So far, no good. He was dozing under a blanket when he heard the knock at the door. “‘oo wud dat be?” he mused as he got up to open it. He smiled widely when the snow-covered Ophie stepped into his living room, but he had to duck away from her when she tried to hug him. “Do, don’t! I’b got a bad cold!” he protested.

Ophie tutted when she heard that her father wasn’t feeling well. “Of course y’do- you never did know when to come inside. Probably sat around wet. Well, never fret, I’m here now. Lessee, d’you have a firepit or anything? I can heat up some water and make you some tea out of these orange peels.” She fussed with his blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders.

Lysander sneezed and shook his head. “Dot since you bere a baby. Fedders are flabbable.”

It took her a moment to realize what he’d said. “Heh, yeah. Feathers can catch fire pretty easily. Anyways, keep eating oranges. D’you need me to curl up with you like I did when I was little?”


“I’b bet you a week’s fishin dat you’ll cadh dis thing ib you do dat. Srusly, you oughta gimme a liddle distace.”

“Hah! I’ll take that bet, I never get sick.”

They talked long into the night, catching up and swapping stories. Huddled together for warmth, Ophie found herself dozing off. It was like being a little girl again. Peacefully, she and her father dozed, happy to be a family together once again.

The next morning, the snow had finally settled and the otter family awoke. Lysander yawned widely. “Gud borning, Ofeelyac.”

“G’mornin’ t’ you, too, dad,” the female said, blinking her eyes and rubbing the sleepy grit from them. “It’s stopped storming, so I think I ought to head back. I’m not really hungry for breakfast- and you oughta save up your food. As you might’ve noticed, I don’t have a cold! Ha!” The walk back to her den was really quite fun- she got to leap and jump through snowbanks. She was having such a good time that she didn’t notice how congested she was. Pushing her way into her den while clearing the snow with her tailfin, she called out to her denmates. “Theeb? Cuddleth? Basebones? Squirdle? Wad’s wron wid by boice?” She thought for a moment. The tissues on the floor at her dad’s... his voice... oh no. A massive sneeze confirmed it. Just her luck- she’d survived the biggest storm of the winter only to come out of it with a head cold and a lost bet! There went a whole bunch of fish to be sure!