No! No, they'd missed their chance! Zephyr isn't fast enough to get back around to the front of the house to the door, fighting their way through the thick blanket of snow. They have too much fur, too many limbs, not enough focus to walk atop the soft powder like they would in the Meadous. Instead, the little god scampers and hops and bulls their way through, creating tracks that always seem to fill in behind them, never giving them a chance to create a proper pathway.

Angry, frustrated, when they finally reach it - closed, locked - they pound a fist against it, they ring the bell, and bark like a pack of feral dogs, something ferocious.

Let me in! Let them out!