A Paw in the Weather Whirl

In the morning, Puschel and Flauschi stood before the great season wheel again. The four wooden spokes were free of vines and ice, but the hub remained stuck. The four-coloured glass flower lay on a flat stone between them, its green ribbon neatly beside it.

Puschel knelt beside the old repair lever. He wanted to pull it at once. Flauschi gently placed one paw over his. Flauschi“First we look together, then we move it together,” she said. Puschel nodded and used his free paw to point at the four signs on the wheel.

They examined every spoke. The pink blossom smelled of spring, the golden sun felt warm, dry wind rustled around the orange-red leaf, and frost glittered on the icy-blue snowflake. The wheel gave no clue about which spoke should move first.

Puschel“If either of us says stop, we both stop,” Puschel suggested. Flauschi smiled. Flauschi“And when one of us has an idea, the other listens to the end.” They pressed paws together. The glass flower shimmered in all four colours.

A gentle wind crossed the garden and made the lever creak. Puschel held it steady without pulling. Puschel“Together,” he reminded himself. Neither of them yet knew that the next gust would put their promise to the test.