The Saga of Fatima of the Gold-dust Feathers! UPDATED - Fatima died...

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Chapter Eight
Fatima of the Gold-dust Feathers was always the first one out of the pophole door in the morning, with everyone pushing and shoving behind her. Today, she slipped down the ramp. When she got to the bottom, she realized it was covered in snow. Bother, she thought, looking around and seeing the powdery stuff all over the run. More flakes drifted down mockingly. I really do need to ask Ophelia how she overcomes her fear of snow and actually walks in it.
Olympia of Midnight scrabbled down the ramp behind her. "Shoot," she said. "Snow."
"And I though we might be able to have a few weeks rest," added Phoebe Stripefeather in her funny high-pitched voice. Phoebe had just finished a molt and her feathers were full and shiny.
Olympia shuddered. Fatima knew why; Olympia's feathers were flimsy and her body thin. She was very bony. Fatima thought this must have come from being broody so much. Her thoughts wandered to the nest box, safe and warm. How she longed to settle down in one and nap...
But no, she lectured herself. The Ones with Great Hands will lecture me, and since I'm starting to actually understand them I'll feel bad, and a bad conscience won't help my laying at all. Egg production was up, despite the dropping temperature. Why, yesterday the Great-Handed Ones collected six eggs! This was good, with only seven Girls. Only Phoebe was not laying; she had not started up again after her molt.
Ophelia had a new claim to fame. It seemed that she had lain two eggs in the space of 24 hours. Fatima knew this was possible, but no one in HER flock had ever done it.
Fatima thought about all this as she watched snow blow off the run roof in great stinging waves. She caught a facefull of the small particles of ice and groaned inwardly. It would melt on her beard and muffs when she got inside the coop, and then she'd be freezing cold. She often despised her muffs and beard, though Lillith and Charlotte thought them signs of great beauty. My feathers are good enough, Fatima sniffed. Who needs whopping great fluffy heads that only get in the way? Nevertheless, she was proud of her (though not official) breed and eggs.
"Come back in, Fatima," Ophelia called from inside the coop. "You'll turn into an icicle if you stay out much longer."
Snapping out of her reverie, Fatima realized that she was the only one left standing in the run. She put her head down so her body was parallel to the ground and barreled inside to warm up.
 
Thanks! You'll have to wait at least a few hours though because if nothing happens to the Girls (like discovering more snow) and I write about something (like Fatima laying a golden egg), then it wouldn't be true to life (well, I don't know EXACTLY what Fatima thinks, but I know her pretty well) therefore defying the purpose of the story. But believe me: Fantasy Writer is my middle name (or should be). I'm currently working on a novel and several short stories (the short stories just whenever I get an awesome idea, usually at about 12 o'clock at night. I'm glad my computer's in my room
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)
 
Chapter Nine
Just when Fatima of the Gold-dust Feathers thought the weather could get no worse, the temperature dropped again. The flock huddled together through -24* nights and snowy days. Fatima was glad for her downy feathers, nature's best insulation. Often, the Girl With Great Hands would stick her hands under someone's wings, because they were so warm.
Today fluffy snow cascaded down. The fat flakes fell very quickly, and soon a foot more of snow was added, with more to come. Fatima stayed inside to avoid the white flakes. Olympia of Midnight was telling a story to keep them all entertained, with Phoebe Stripefeather and Rita of the Small Flames occasionally chiming in.
"It was years ago," Olympia recalled, "when we were bundled into the car, just like when we moved lately. We clattered and rattled over the road-"
"Clattered and rattled!" echoed Rita and Phoebe.
"And made such a noise that foxes would be afraid!"
"Oh, foxes!"
"Soon we came to a house. There was a shed not unlike our own dear coop, but with no run. We were put in there for a month!"
"A month, a month, a month away from home," Phoebe and Rita chorused.
"We later learned it was because the Great-Handed Ones were scared we might be taken away. Then we would not have had a happy life like we do here."
Fatima shivered. Even inside the coop it was cold. She ambled over to the waterer. Oh no! Despite the warmer underneath, it was frozen. She tramped out into the run, wincing at the feel of cold snow beneath her feet. She scooped up a beak full of snow and let it melt in her mouth. It was a trick Olympia had taught her for if the waterer ever ran dry and the Ones With Great hands were not there to fill it up. It was water, all right, but icy cold. When Fatima had quenched her thirst, she hurried back inside and snuggled down next to her buddy Ophelia. The two quickly fell asleep, though it was only about noontime. The heat lamp in the coop kept them awake at night.
 
a foot of snow !
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we rarely drop into the thirty's today it is raining and the temperature remains stubbornly and resolutely at 34 to hot for snow
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