Write about: the snow prince.
What Max was actually saying, over and over, as he marched around the deck this morning was 'snow prints'. But the above got into my head and wouldn't let go and now here we are.
We did indeed make a snowman. Here's some proof:
He was very insistent that it have a carrot for a nose. Good thing we still have lots in storage.
The Snow Prince left snow prints in his wake as he crossed a meadow otherwise filled with green grass and pungent wildflowers. He had been travelling for several weeks but his pace remained steady, his focus unwavering. There was no option to slow down, no room for rest.
He was on his way south and time was not on his side.
For though his wintry boot prints lingered long after his passing, they would not survive indefinitely. The sun, which failed to penetrate the thick blue coat the Prince pulled tight around his stout frame, would eventually melt the snow. The puddles would turn to mud, and then no trace would remain.
The Snow Prince was so set on his destination that the only way he could find his way back to his northern home was to retrace his original path. If that disappeared before he could return to familiar landscapes... he would be lost.
And winter would envelope the world as another ice age took hold.