Sprout lay sleeping inside his small hole in the ground, surrounded by piles of feathers, and a few furs. The furs ones that were obtained from the local market, via fair trade. Sprout didn't like the idea of having a dead animals hide touching him, but less so, did he like being cold! The green plant Usdia despised winter and the cold that blanketed the lands. Green things turned brown. The ground became cold and dry. Then when the snow got here?! That was the worst thing possible! It sapped the remaining life out of the things it touched. Even the evergreen trees were covered in snow or ice. How cruel and bitter winter could be. Sprout feared that winter had come for him, to take away the life of his bulb on his back, and turn him brown!! Not this winter! Sprout collected down feathers and furs, to keep him warm. Burrowing in a borrowed hole, he slept there, like a hibernating bear.
In the distance, someone called. A vine of Sprout's twitched from the noise. Groaning in complaint to the noise, he plugged both vines in his ears. Still, the cries could be heard, muffled through his attempts to silence them. Sprout groaned again, and popped one eye open. The other followed, upon realizing the cries sounded like someone was shouting with a tone of dismay. What exactly was going on out there?! Sprout wondered if someone was hurt! Scooting out from under his warm makeshift bed, he climbed out of his hole.
What awaited him out of his hole, was pure evil. The snow had piled up in a snow drift around his hole, and he stood facing a wall of white. Sprout made a troubled face. How would he get out of here? Deciding to charge through the snow, he shrieked at the cold sensation that came over his only minutes ago, warm and snuggly body. He stood covered in snow, with his vines held out to the sides. gonk The snow seeped into his coat, and began to melt. Sprout screamed again, and turned to run back into his burrow. He climbed back under his furs and feathers, only to get them wet. His warm bed, now turned cold, and moist. What an awful turn of events!
Sprout licked at the wet melty snow, and did his best to clean himself. The vines on his back, coiled around a pelt, and pulled it down over his head when he was done. Tomorrow, perhaps this would be just a bad dream.
While never having anything to do with the actual Ice Wars, close by, there lay a green mini that had been defeated by the cold, without ever even leaving home.