Tiny specks of ice filled the air and bit into my hide. Banks of white covered the mountain up to my knees. I followed carefully behind Mother, watching where each of her huge hooves left a print in the snow. It seemed as if we had been walking forever.
"Little Bub Moose, are you doing okay?" Mother's beautiful face peered back at me. Small icicles hung from her chin and her dewlap -- the loose, flabby, beardlike piece of skin that swayed beneath her throat.
"I'm fine. Are we there yet?"
Mother rolled her big brown eyes. "You just asked that a moment ago, Bub. We're still not there."
A strange growly sound...