He kept awaking and cocking his ears at the bright world without, where the April sun was blazing across the snow.

When he dozed, upon his ears would steal the faint whispers of hidden trickles of running water, and he would rouse and listen intently.

The sun had come back, and all the awakening Northland world was calling to him.

Life was stirring.

The feel of spring was in the air, the feel of growing life under the snow, of sap ascending in the trees, of buds bursting the shackles of the frost.
He cast anxious glances at his mate, but she showed no desire to get up.
He looked outside, and half a dozen snow-birds fluttered across his field of vision.