2

“Gloomy… Somber… Dismal… Morose… Sullen… Sulky… Murky… Grim…”

If one could read the mind of Undersnag, he/she would be perplexed, as it was hard to tell whether Undersnag was describing the weather or his mood.

1

Undersnag was standing on the edge of the frozen pond looking at the bench covered up with snow.

“Oh, my! The winter is running wild. Dragonflies and water striders are asleep… Nobody to chat with,” sighed Undersnag and plodded back to his lair.