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.