Sadie was studying Cooper by the front door, taking in his coat, hat, and gloves with a critical eye. The little girl had already declared his socks too thin and brought him two pairs of her father's socks. His pants were "fine, but don't sit down in the snow. It'll make your butt cold and we'll have to come in sooner."
Marissa's father was leaning against the fireplace, watching them with a flat-lipped stare that made him nervous.
Sadie squinted up at him, her head tilting slightly as if she’d just solved a complicated math problem. “You’re a lizard person,” she said finally.
“Yes,” Cooper agreed, unsure where this was going but aware it was going somewhere.
“And lizards are cold-blooded,” she continued, nodding to herself. “Which means snow is bad for you.”
Before he could respond, she spun on her heel and darted down the hallway. Cooper had just enough time to register Marissa’s father’s gaze sharpen before Sadie reappeared, dragging a small basket nearly as big as her torso.
She dumped the contents onto the bench by the door—bright orange heat packs, knit scarves, and something that might once have been a microwavable corn bag.
“These go in your pockets,” Sadie announced, shoving a heat pack into his glove with alarming confidence. “And one in each boot. Nana says heat rises, so if your feet are warm, the rest of you won’t die.”
Cooper blinked. “That is… excellent survival logic.”
“I know,” she said proudly. “Also, don’t sit in the snow. And if you start moving slow, we come back inside.”
From the fireplace, the Colonel cleared his throat. “She’s not wrong.”
Cooper inclined his head solemnly. “I appreciate the concern for my continued survival.”
Sadie beamed. “Good. Now you’re ready.”
Ready, Cooper thought, as another heat pack was stuffed into his coat pocket, was a relative concept.
"If he gets too cold while you're out there, you can put some of those heat packs in his armpits. That will help keep his core warm enough to get back inside."
"Oh! Good idea, Geepaw!" Sadie said, beaming at her grandfather.
With the heat of the packs in his boots and pockets, Cooper was fairly certain that more heat under his arms would roast him nicely for Christmas dinner. When the door opened and the hint of cold turned into a full blast, a light dusting of snowflakes blowing in on the breeze that invaded the house, he rethought that assessment.
"Close the door behind you," Marissa's father ordered.
Cooper fumbled for a moment, struggling to grasp the door handle with the thick gloves, but he finally managed and the door closed with a thump. With the door closed, the breeze changed direction, flowing along the front of the house instead of trying to get in the door.
Sadie had already clattered down the front stairs to the newly fallen snow in the front yard. She had picked up a handful of snow and was packing it into a ball in her hands while she waded out into a portion of the yard that wasn't covered in trees.
The little girl stopped when the snow reached her knees and dropped the ball of snow into the pile in front of her. With a determined look, she started pushing it through the snow, rolling it slowly as it gathered snow.
"What is the purpose of this?" Cooper asked, stopping next to her and leaning down to examine the growing snow ball.
"This is going to be the base of the snowman," she explained. "We have to make the ball as big as we can, then make another one to stack on top of it."
Cooper watched the snowball grow beneath Sadie’s small, determined hands, the resistance of the snow changing as it packed tighter. He tilted his head, considering the effort involved.
“What is the purpose of a snowman?” he asked finally.
Sadie paused, clearly surprised by the question. She looked up at him like he’d just asked why the sky existed.
“It’s the General of Winter,” she said matter-of-factly.
Cooper’s brows rose. “A military leader?”
“Yes,” Sadie confirmed, nodding solemnly. “It guards the house while it’s cold out so Winter doesn’t get ideas.”
He considered this. The strategic value of a visible deterrent was… not negligible.
“And what happens if the General is not constructed?” he asked.
Sadie’s mouth turned down. “Then Winter might come closer. Or steal heat. Or make the pipes freeze.”
Cooper straightened slightly. “That would be unacceptable.”
From behind them, the Colonel snorted softly.
Sadie handed Cooper a clump of snow with great ceremony. “You help roll. Generals are big.”
Cooper took the snow, weighing it in his gloved hands. The cold bit through the fabric, sharp and immediate.
“Then we will build the General,” he said gravely. “Properly.”
Sadie beamed.