It wasn't the unbareable bitter bite to my arm and toe tips that awoke me earlier than usual but a sqwarking bird outside the window pane. It scuffled against the glass, its muffled tones I hazily presumed to be an argument with another, but I was still too asleep to care all that much. Dad wasn't here to ask what was going on and I wasn't interested in fidgeting away my little warmth. Dad had left to go hunting as he always did, leaving earlier and coming back later, bringing us back a grub packet I wasn't so set on eating. I tried to remain asleep, folding my arms to hug myself cozier, toes tingling, but that dratted bird continued screetching and sqwarking, slicing right through my head. If these wooden joist beams had still been occupied the whole roof would've been awake to the commotion like days of past. If only I had a crumbling of plaster at reach I would've thrown it the distance from Nook to window pane. But my energy was still asleep, dreaming of a happier past.

"What's the Kufuffle?"

"Everyone come see!"

"Big Gorb's only gone and strung the biggest catch these beams have ever seen!"

"Wey Up fellas, that's a whole mouse he's got there!"

Every woodbeam Bug and Spider sprung to their closest loft position just to see the mighty scene. Cheers and whistles whooping, congradulating Dad at the successful catch. Dad raised it above his head triumphantly for all to see.
"Sure he's good, but he looks like an Ant heaving that hefty lump."

"Fruf'dish, if you caught this lump for your sons you'd attempt to do the 'Ant' as well, 'cept you'd drop the damn thing and I'd have to come help ya."

I watched the banter and jest, full of anticipation, stretched to my tallest height, excited for our dinner treat.

"Here's a thought, how about we shares it, a feast for all the battens? Communial spirit n'all that. Who's up for dinner round at Gorb's?"

A mighty cheer arose.

Pretending to consider the suggestion, Dad then made out to push his best mate off his footing, only to receive a push back, dropping the Mouse to the sunken depths of the room below. Everyone hushed down, all wide eye'd to hear the mouse bop to the floor.
"UWAYYYYYY~~!" [Someone always cheered mishaps as if it were a job well done to keep the good spirits high.]

"I'd like to accept Fruf'dish's kind offer to have you all on the 'menu' round ours!"

A jest of cheer and whistles filled the loft.

"Big Gorb the joker, huh? Always larking about. That'll only take a little extra webbing and a heave back up. Mouse'll be back on the menu in no time. Come on fellas grab a Spider friend, lets get this Mouse heaved up."

My Dad, always Larking about. Now there was a description I was sure didn't fit.

My Dad laughed heartily many times and he was a good hunter, but he always kept himself reserved, on alert, and nothing less.
I was proud of his hunting skills though. As a small Spiddle I believed there was nothing my Dad couldn't take on and bring home for dinner. Many times he'd caused a Kufuffle with the gifts he came home with.

No squeak, squark or squeal scared my Dad from a catch. We prided ourselves on our dinners, raising our status in the Loft Extention community.

*

Cracking an eye open then, I zoned back to the noisy morning bird still in a kufuffle. Something just wasn't settling right within me.
Poking my head out I saw nothing at the top of the window, just a glimmering strand, flashing from movement in the daylight. If I really wanted to know what was going on it required crawling out of the Nook and running to the opposite beam face where I had more window pane to gaze out of, ...and curiousity had me do so.
A Robin was pointing its feathered wing telling 'what for' at a dangling over fuzzied Arachnid, plump and brown with red to its chest. Each creature could be described in much the same way. Every single limb attached to my body turned mysteriously queasy then and all hairs turned static. Veering off premises to the breeze block constructed wall I ran towards the window for a closer look, tresspassing vacant home spacess until I was just close enough to see my Dad hugging red Robin feathers to his chest, dangled on a silver thread and arguing with the Bird itself.
Four of my eyes widened to see Dad outside of all things, and the other four squinted to see better what he was playing at.

Their voices were muffled but the scene easy to decipher. The Robin bird was having a right go at Dad, wanting its pilfered feathers back, while Dad wasn't giving them up for anything. Every time Dad tried to hoist himself back up his thread, hanging down from somewhere above the outside window, the Robin would flap up a wind and send him into a spin, which got Dad arguing back, pointing at the Bird as the Bird pointed back at Dad, seemingly blaming each other as a nuisence.
The thing I was most blown away by was how he'd even got outside in the first place. Somewhere inside the loft must've been a hole, which wouldn't be helping in any way to keep us warm.

The moment Dad got to the top of the window pane, I turn around and legged it home, calling out a sorry as I tresspassed each vacant home, hoping to beat Dad back to the Nook before he got inside the house. (Otherwise I'd be getting some of the same he gave to the Bird, such as; why wasn't I protecting our Nook? Don't I know how dangerous it is? Predators, Eiguh'Ht, the consequences.)

Making it back home with a quick run-round of our beam to check for invaders, I dived back to snuggle inside our wall hole Nook, closing my eyes and pretending to be alseep, doing my best to even away my panting breaths. I knew Dad would have some big story about how he'd taken on a Robin for our dinner with an excuse as to why it got away. I was waiting for it, to which I'd ask him how he got outside and why a hole had been allowed into the loft to freeze us over. Perhaps my best friend, Frub, and everyone else would've stayed had it been a little warmer from the discovery and covering of that hole, which he seemed to know about.
With my eyes firmly closed I waited for him with a tirade of questions I expected answers for.

However, hours later I awoke warm and snuggled under a covering of squashed in Robin feathers, not a single toe stinging cold, everything was nicely toasty except for my uncovered face still a little chilly to the air.

"Dad?"

Dad had gone.

Hunting.

"Cheers Dad," I sighed.

In that moment life felt good again, ...maybe we would make it.