The tree house was giant, spanning across the top of an ancient oak, various rooms connected by wooden bridges decorated with quiet wind chimes that glinted in the moonlight like stars above the snow. A river still flowed slowly and defiantly nearby, chunks of half-frozen ice swirling steadily, never overtaking the current.
He sneezed.
The ten-year-old hedgehog carrying him looked down curiously, worry decorating his features. "Hey, kid, are you alright?"
"C-cold," the small fox mumbled clumsily, his face still numb. "Tired." He twitched his large fluffy tails, trying to get them to curl around him. Maybe it would make him feel a bit better. Unfortunately, his efforts were left unrewarded, and his frost-covered tails remained hanging limply below him in the hedgehog's way.
"No, no, no," the hedgehog said stubbornly, shaking his head in annoyance and picking up the pace. Miles wondered how he could move so quickly in the freezing temperatures. He didn't have a thick fur coat; shouldn't he be even colder than the fox by now? "Kid, no sleeping, okay? Don't go to sleep yet. Wait until we get you inside."
Miles, through the haze of exhaustion, felt a surge of annoyance. Who gave this other kid the right to tell him when he could or couldn't nap? "Why?" Miles asked, trying to sound growl-y and annoyed.
"My dad said that letting cold people fall asleep before they're warm is really bad," the hedgehog said, surprising Miles. "I don't know why, but I'm still not letting you take a cat nap out here." That was weird. No 'because I said so' or 'don't ask questions'? Before Miles could continue musing, they had already (somehow) reached the top of a long ramp, and the hedgehog walked inside.
The first thing Miles noticed was that, for a tree house, it was incredibly warm. The second was that he was colder than he thought he was. His head felt like someone had stuffed him with cotton and then punched him in the nose, the inside of his mouth tasted like ice, and his limbs were nothing but useless floppy pincushions. His thick fur was soggy and heavy and WET, frozen with already-melting frost. "Guh," Miles said. The hedgehog laughed. He found himself sinking into a large, cushy recliner, cocooned in blankets and sitting in front of a fire. The hedgehog came back into the room balancing two mugs of steaming hot chocolate and a large book on foxes. At the tired kid's incredulous look, he chucked nervously, setting down the mugs and sitting with the book on a wooden chair.
"I don't actually know that much about foxes, so I sort of figured..." He trailed off, before focusing abruptly on the hot chocolate. "You can eat chocolate, right? I know that some people are allergic to the same stuff as their ferals, but, er, I know that I'm not Lactose Intola-whatever, even though I'm supposed to be, so I thought..." He laughed again, and Miles wondered distantly what on Mobius he was talking about.
"I dunno," Miles responded. "Maybe," he added, feeling the need to expand on his response. He was re-gaining the feeling in his face and limbs, but he still felt uncomfortably damp, like he was running too long and was covered in sweat. He probably smelled like it, anyways.
"Well, I guess that having an allergic reaction or something isn't as bad as you staying cold, so drink up!" The hedgehog said cheerfully, handing him a mug. Miles poked his hands out from his blankets just long enough to grab it, before quickly pulling his arms back into his warm and cozy nest, only his hands remaining outside to hold his drink. There were little marshmallows floating in the sweet-smelling brown liquid, and Miles tried to remember a time where he had felt this at home. All he could bring to mind was a hazy image of a long, smiling snout and red.
"Is there anyone else living here?" Miles asked after taking a long drink of his cocoa, ignoring the fact that it nearly burnt his tongue and throat and instead appreciating the warmth spreading out from his stomach. The hedgehog blinked in surprise at the question, staring into his hot chocolate contemplatively.
"Well, my dad used to live here too," he finally said, "Don't really remember my mom, though I guess I must've had one. They're both gone."
"Where's your dad?" Miles asked, curiously.
The hedgehog looked up in surprise. "I-I dunno," he replied, his eyes flickering out the window where the river could be heard flowing, before looking down at his drink and giving a strained, fake smile that made his eyes squint even though it barely reached his cheeks. "Somewhere far away, I think. Not here."
"Oh," Miles asked, looking down at his hot chocolate before leaning his head back and taking a long drink. When his mug was half-empty, he stopped, wiping away a few drops on his face with his arm and looking at the hedgehog. He wondered why he had saved him. Hadn't he seen his tails? Wasn't he freaked out? Or was he just waiting to throw him outside once his guard was down?
Miles looked at the hedgehog, wondering, and thought suddenly of the river outside and the far away place, the huge, empty tree house. He though of red and smiles, and he realized that he might already know why.
"What's your name?"
"Hm?" The hedgehog looked up and blinked, before grinning. "Sonic. Sonic the hedgehog! What about you, kid?"
"Miles Prower," he responded, making a face to himself. Sonic laughed, and gave a real smile, looking back at the fox with a lopsided grin.
"Nah, I'm not feelin' that name. How about..." He closed his eyes, black with the barest hint of green, and put a hand to his chin in contemplation. He opened his eyes and snapped his fingers, coming to a realization. "Tails!"
Miles blinked. "Tails?" He stared at Sonic in wonder for a moment before grinning, feeling as though he'd never been cold his entire life. "Tails! I love it!"
"Then that's your name now." Sonic said, nodding, and Miles- Tails- couldn't help but grin even wider at his next statement. "Hey, how about I show you my dad's old plane tomorrow?"