Liam and the Snow Fort Tunnel

"Shh. Listen," whispered Liam. He sat up in bed. Something outside was going tick, tick, tick against the window.

He ran to the glass. White flakes were drifting down, slow and soft. It was the first snow!

"Mama, it's snowing!" he called. "Can I go out? I want to build a snow fort with a tunnel, just wide enough to crawl through!"

"Boots first," said Mama. "Then hat. Then mittens."

Out in the yard, Liam scooped snow into a big heap. He patted it and patted it. But the snow was thin, and the heap kept slumping down like a sleepy cat.

"Try again," Liam told himself. "Try again."

He piled it higher. He poked a hole in the side. Flump! The whole top fell in.

Liam sat down in the snow. His nose was cold. Then he noticed something. The snow under his mittens was heavy and wet, but the snow on top was light as feathers.

"Wet snow sticks," he said. "Feather snow doesn't."

So he rolled the snow into big balls, the way he rolled dough with Papa. The balls got fat and heavy. He stacked them in a ring and pressed them together.

A small gray rabbit hopped up and sniffed at the ring. It wanted the dry leaves tucked behind it, not a fort. It nibbled and hopped away.

Liam laughed. Then he dug a hole through the bottom of the wall, and the wall stayed up.

He lay down on his tummy and wiggled in. It was just wide enough. His breath made little clouds. The snow walls glowed pale blue around him.

Outside, the flakes kept falling, tick, tick, tick, on the roof of his fort.

"Listen," whispered Liam, and he stayed very still.