The birds on a dull-grey birch tree flew away as the cry of a child pierced the silence in the field. He was out in the open as he had a quarrel with the buzzing world. His hope for a shelter in the isle of silence was mangled as the chilly December winds were unkind to him.

He decided to go back to the buzzing world watching the starry sky. Ill luck might have got him, you may say; he had fallen into a pitfall trap which the wisest mammal would have avoided.

He struggled somehow back to the top as he hears an approaching vehicle. And he waived his hand from the distant like a magic wand but the car drove away like a cruel hurricane.