Inna seeks comfort in the midst of war in Ukraine. I woke at 6 a.m., a very chilly time to be awake. I hate waking at this hour, but most of the time I can’t help it. It is so chilly that it is uncomfortable to stay asleep, but I would rather hide under the covers and my pillow than have to suffer through sirens and shouting. I was awake now, though, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I pushed myself up out of bed and staggered sleepily to the kitchen. I live in an apartment probably the size of someone’s living room, if not smaller. I went into our tiny kitchen. The kitchen is my favorite room in the apartment, because it is the warmest, and because I’m always soothed by the smells of Auntie’s special teas that she only lets me and my uncle drink on our birthdays. (They leave the most beautiful scents in the house.) I was surprised to see my uncle and aunt already up, sitting at the kitchen table. In front of them, they had a pile of newspapers, our radio, and the mini-TV we owned turned on atop the cramped kitchen counter—basically everything you could receive news from in our apartment. And the most questionable, concerning part about it was that they had their whole pile of savings in front of them. This made me frightened. They glanced up at me. Their eyes had big circles under them. Their faces were red, and it looked like they had been crying. This all shocked me. I had a painful stomachache slowly coming on. I experience these when I feel stressed, sad, or basically any emotion conjured up that is upsetting. These stomachaches usually feel like something is punching and wrenching into my stomach slowly but surely. “Good morning, sweetie pie.” Auntie yawned. “Morning,” I replied sheepishly. I meant to say it in a kind tone, but it came out wrong. (I often have trouble with this.) I opened a cupboard and pulled out some oatmeal mix. I then put some water on the stove in a pan to boil. After a couple minutes of waiting, I poured the oatmeal in and put the lid on top. I had oatmeal every day for breakfast. My aunt and uncle always had a rushed breakfast, so they just had coffee and sometimes split a piece of toast. This morning, however, they didn’t have one single piece of food on the table—not even coffee! I knew that this war was not safe, but I had never imagined leaving the place where I had grown up. As I waited for my oatmeal to cook, I made myself a small cup of Moroccan mint tea. (I had this every morning with my oatmeal.) I put only one sugar cube in it. I used to put two, but now, since Auntie and Uncle aren’t working, we have to cut back on things that are not necessary. These cubes were the last of the ones we had bought last week. After I finished making my tea, I scooped the oatmeal out of the pot and set it in a bowl. I carried my breakfast to the table and took the last vacant seat. I started to eat when my ear caught something. I looked up after hearing the key word that had basically taken over my life: war. I glanced at the TV. My heart fell at what I saw. I dropped my spoon and ran to my room. As I ran, I caught a glance of Auntie and Uncle staring at each other, their faces etched with worry. I picked up my favorite stuffy, Possy—the only thing I had left that made me feel comforted and strong. I’ve always loved how Possy’s ears are yellow and how her tail is blue. It reminds me of home. Every Christmas, no matter how old I was, Mom would always get me a stuffed animal with our home—Ukraine’s—colors on them. Possy was the last one she got me and it still smelled like her. Unlike every other time, though, this time when I was curled up with Possy, petting and clutching her to my chest, I felt a ping of sadness instead of comfort. Tears took over my face. Auntie stood in my doorway. There grew a silence, making the air in the room thick and hard. She came up to me and sat down on my bed. She pulled me into her and stroked my hair. Then, Uncle walked into the doorway, and after a little while, he came and curled up on the other side of me. I felt better but not recovered. We did this a lot. I have had a lot of emotional hours ever since I moved in. Luckily, Auntie and Uncle understand, and don’t seem to ever grow tired of comforting me. We all stayed huddled as a pack until I suddenly pulled away. “What are you guys doing? I need to know,” I inquired. I meant it in a firm way, but it came out very shaky. Uncle sighed and glanced at Auntie. Auntie sighed too, and then took a deep breath. “We are looking for ways to leave the country.” I swallowed. I knew that this war was not safe, but I had never imagined leaving the place where I had grown up. The place where I had made all my great memories. The place where my life was planted. This was the worst news I could get at the worst time of my life. “We know that this news is hard for you, so we’re going to give you your space for a little while. But, of course, if you need us, we’re always here,” Uncle finished. My aunt nodded. They then both kissed me on the forehead and lifted themselves off the bed. After they left, I just sat on my bed. I looked at my watch. The time was 7:45 a.m.

As the seasons change, the animals must face extreme weather conditions. There was once a spring so windy the fields were empty, the people were lifted off their feet, and the sky was dotted with flying leaves. “My god,” Mole exclaimed as he hopped frantically back into his hole. He wiped at his frizzled fur. “I almost got blown away!” “What’s wrong, Mole?” asked Worm, who had just poked his head out of the ground. “The outside has become chaotic! Now here is a windy spring, so windy that I can’t go out without almost getting blown away!” Mole exclaimed as he jumped up and down. “I shall never be able to go out again. We will certainly starve to death this spring.” “What about the food you saved last winter?” Worm asked quizzically. He had never worried about starving; for as long as he could remember, the soil all around him was abundant with food. “We finished it all!” Mole sobbed. “Lord, what a season!” “I’m sure that’s fine. Groundhog will be willing to share,” Worm offered. “Groundhog? No, that’s an insane idea!” Mole sulked. Mole and Groundhog had long been enemies, and besides, Mole hated Groundhog’s food. “I shall go cry in a corner and wish that the Lord would bless me, but thank you for your kindness.” And with that, Mole blew his nose and dug a nice archway by the side of the tunnel to sit in and pray. Worm sighed. He thought Mole was being overdramatic and too proud and stubborn to ask for help. Worm continued his little journey through the soil. *          *          * There was once a summer so hot that the sun burned red and the ground was cracked and the trees melted into icky, yellow glue. One day, Eagle’s eggs fell from her nest into the icky, yellow glue. She flapped her wings maniacally and screeched: “Eep! In the name of my feathers, we have just survived a Spring of Wind! Now this! A boiling summer, so hot that the sun is now red, the ground has cracked, and the trees have melted!” “First a Spring of the Wind, a Summer of the Red Sun, and now a Fall of Coolness?” Just then, Snail was taking a nice trip on the scorching ground. She looked up at the yelping, fuming eagle, who stared down enviously at Snail. “How are you able to walk on the scorching ground?” Eagle demanded. Snail blinked. “I have a trail of slime on me,” Snail squeaked. “What about you? What is wrong?” “My eggs have fallen into the icky glue the trees have melted into! And now I have no place to rest, as all the trees have melted, and the ground is too hot,” Eagle wailed. “You could go stand on a house!” Snail offered. “Oh, no. The houses are made out of bricks!” Eagle screeched. “Oh, no. The sun’s scorching temperature against that? What a joke!” “Ah, but you could use some of my slime!” Snail offered again. “Your slime?” Eagle stopped wailing for a while and considered the notion, scrunching up her beak in disgust. “I won’t be able to touch the ground. No, thank you.” And so Eagle continued being pessimistic and flew away in despair to find a friend to share this complaint with. Snail shook her head and continued pushing herself forward. *          *          * There was once a fall so cool that the trees bent down and the polar bears shivered, and the people wore three jackets each time they went out. “What season is it?” Orca asked Tuna Fish, shivering. “It’s fall!” Tuna Fish replied in the same shaky voice. “Why, I’m going to die from the cold! Fish don’t feel cold, do they?” “I suppose not,” Orca shivered back. “But I am a mammal, and so I do.” “If I may ask, do you migrate?” Tuna Fish asked as it started to swim in mini- circles to get warmed up. “Yes!” Orca wailed. “First a Spring of the Wind, a Summer of the Red Sun, and now a Fall of Coolness? The cold will definitely prevent us from migrating without dying.” “You’ve got a big brain,” Tuna Fish pointed out. “You’ve got to be able to think of something.” Now Orca started to swim in circles in deep pondering. “You are right. I am going to call upon my pod for a meeting. We must find a way to thrive using the deep waters as a habitat this season.” “But won’t the cold water here”—Tuna Fish paused before continuing— “bring death upon you too?” Orca stopped swimming and let out an exasperated sob before continuing to swim at a rapid speed, so fast people would’ve thought he was insane. “So be it!” the orca said shakily. “We all die one day. But at the moment, I’m very, very hungry.” And so Orca gobbled Tuna Fish up and went to his pod to declare the devastating conclusions. *          *          * There was once a winter so cold that the trees downright froze and all the animals got frostbite, and the snow froze blue. House Dog barked and barked and nibbled hopelessly on the door, feeling desperate after almost an entire year of being stuck indoors, but it would not budge. He sighed and flopped onto a nearby sofa, exhausted. “I told you not to try and open the door!” purred House Cat. “Now you’re tired.” “Well, enlighten me! How will we get outside of the house, then?” House Dog cried out as he rolled over off the couch. “Here is a freezing winter, one so cold there are only frozen trees, animals with frostbite, and blue snow. Our house has been covered with too much ice for us to open the door and go outside,” said House Cat. Veil over Valley “What?”