When Trail awoke the next morning, what had been soft earth yesterday had become hard, cold ground overnight. Leaf-bare was upon him; there were hardly any leaves left on the trees. Standing up, Trail set about hunting. Now that it was cold, every piece of prey he could find was the difference between life and death.

After narrowly escaping Scythe, the brown tom had gone as deep into the prey-rich forest as he could, to get as far away as possible from the rogue. He wasn't sure what condition his hunter was in, but didn't want to take any chances. However, he couldn't abandon the plentiful source of food that was the woods he was in either.

After bringing down a fat mouse, Trail swallowed it piece by piece, savoring each bite from the plump animal. He'd lived through enough cold seasons to know you had to enjoy the bigger pieces of food, since soon there could not be any left.

Trail hunted in the prey-rich forest for a couple days, eating as much as possible. He wanted to stock up on fat so as to last longer without food. However, when his paws began to itch from staying in one place, the prey began to run thin, and he began to worry about being found, he left the forest to continue traveling randomly again.

After a few days of walking, he began to realize he'd been running from Scythe for around a quarter moon. And in that entire time, he hadn't left his massive circle-territory. His cycle encompassed a wide area, and it seemed as though his daily random directions never left its edges. Trail suspected that, subconsciously, he was scared of leaving the territory he knew so well. Even Scythe wouldn't drive him out. And now that it was getting colder every day, Trail didn't want to risk starving in unfamiliar territory. It was best if he stayed in areas he knew.

One morning, Trail woke up to find light, white powder falling from the sky and tickling his nose. The first snow. A light dusting that reflected the bright sun covered the ground and dead trees.

Sighing, Trail got up, stretched, and began his journey. He hated walking in snow. It froze the pads on his paws until they were numb, and it stuck to his fur, and ice got between his toes…

Those were the grumbling thoughts that ran through his head as he picked up paw after paw, shaking it out. The snow had been falling the whole day, making it progressively harder to walk. Hearing a crackling sound in front of him, Trail froze. Looking around him, he saw a skinny bird hopping through a snowdrift. Trail crouched down, focusing on his prey, but a loud crunch came from the snow under his feet, and the bird flew away.

"Mouse dung!" Trail whispered. He'd forgotten how much harder leaf-bare hunting was. He couldn't afford to make that mistake again. If he didn't catch all the food he saw, when it got really cold, he might not eat for a whole day.

Over the last few days, it had gotten so cold Trail had barely been able to touch the snow-coated ground without wincing. He kept hoping it would be a warm leaf-bare, but could tell from the constant chill he felt his hopes were in vain.

Maybe Scythe would give up if it got really cold, Trail thought hopefully while walking one day. Maybe, if Trail could outlast him in the freezing forests and Scythe would stay in Twolegplace to keep warm, the rogue would give up. Maybe then-

The loner's thoughts were cut short when he had to stop, lie down on the icy ground, and pick out the snow clumps from between his toes with his teeth, as he'd done who knew how many times already.

When it began to get dark, Trail happened upon a Twolegplace. He was tempted to enter it. In previous leaf-bares, he'd huddled with alley cats and friendlier rogues to keep warm, and their combined heat together had worked wonders. As well, Twolegplaces often had strange Twoleg objects that burned with heat, and strange soft things lying in alleys that were warm and comfortable. Even without entering a Twoleg nest, Twolegplaces had so many things that could be used to keep warm and keep the wind away; the walls of nests themselves were great for that. It would be the smartest idea to stay there.

But he couldn't. Scythe was more likely to be there, where it was warmer, than out in the freezing cold. And other dangerous cats could be there too. No, it was too dangerous to enter Twolegplace. Trail would just have to fight through the freezing leaf-bare. With a heavy sigh, the brown tom set out to find a good place to sleep. The ideal place would be a bush, without snow underneath it, and a blanket of leaves or pine needles so as to not sleep on the cold floor…

Trail awoke the next morning stiff and frozen to his bones. He hadn't been able to find his ideal sleeping spot, so he'd had to sleep in a dip in the ground lightly covered by some tree roots. The snow was soaked into his fur, and he was absolutely miserable. Trail was even considering going into the Twolegplace.

That was when he began to cough.