It was a wonderful sleepy morning. The only sound that could be heard in the quiet forest was the birdsong welcoming the sun’s gentle rays. The vast forest had grown up many years before, and had become a refuge and home for various forest animals. And right here, in a hole hidden under the roots of an old oak tree next to the riverbank, a little rusty fox cub was sleeping soundly with his mummy.
After a while, the toothy winter sun peeked into the hole, which was lined with the last of the autumn leaves, and tickled the fox cub's ears. Little Milo opened his mischievous little eyes and jumped up onto all fours.
"Mummy, Mummy! Get up! It's morning!" he exclaimed, nuzzling into his mother's warm fur.
"My little rascal, it's still early to get up," mother fox responded with a laugh. She stretched and padded out of the den as her rusty-coloured sun slipped between her legs and out into the open.
No sooner was he out than he stopped in surprise and looked up. While they were getting up, the sun had hidden behind some grey clouds and the weather had completely changed. A strange white powder was falling from the sky. Small, cold feathery things were flying through the air. Milo watched them curiously.
"What’s this, Mummy?" he asked. "I've never seen anything like it. It’s very pretty."
His mother scrambled out of the den entrance and smiled. "It's snow, Milo. It comes when autumn wants to summon winter, and December comes," she answered him.
"December? Who is December?" asked Milo, confused.
His mother smiled and began to explain.
"December is the first month of winter," she said. "It's the time when the green grass hides under…
