November 27: Hibernation
Lumber the slow forms side to side
Rest in tandem beast
Drops of rain-crust grit the puff-shale
Speckle hillside sleet.
Autumn flaps its weary eyelids
Sings a tune drawn low
Gray clouds billow wroth the wind-shire
“Now I see,” Says so the bee-girl
“Where the world must die.”
“Born again,” Says so the bee-girl.
“But not return, will I.”
Prompt: The future is set. It’s time to ready the world for Winter. Roll the die to see how Winter first appears.
Death. Another death occurs—not one of the bees, but a different living thing leaving for the Great Elsewhere. This event solidifies the oncoming season.
Snow. A strange, wet, white, cold substance falls from the sky. Does it stick? Is it only flurries?
Migration. A strange group saunters through the territory. They will not stay. They are destined for another land. Who are they?
Holiday. A celebration representing Winter begins. What kind of celebration is it? Who performs it? How odd is it to the bees?
Darkness. The sun rises late and sets early. Clouds never leave the sky. The world wanes gray—and grayer still tomorrow.
Sleep. A local group of creatures begins their great slumber with stockpiles of food. They won’t emerge until Spring.
Write: The bees have never seen Winter before—only heard tales about it passed down from generations, or passed down from their Queen. What is it like? What does it mean?