Little bird had come far, was cold and tired. He was feeling blood freezing in his veins. No matter how much he tried to move, it was impossible. He preferred to remain still on tree. Snow drops were like a heavy hammer piercing his weak body. With one of them he fell from tree to the ground.

While he was looking at the white snowy sky through the tree branches, he tried to remember his life sweet memories. But his eyes were closed faster than he anticipated.

After a while he heard an unrecognizable voice. Slowly opened his eyes. The tree above his head was now shining and beautiful. Pleasing warmth was touching his body deep inside his furs. Little bird said to himself, how beautiful heaven is. But before he could finish the sentence, the touch of a finger on his furs, trembled his body with joy.

 

“Little bird Merry Christmas”

 

Little bird was not dead, he survived.