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Description
This is Uncle Mikey version 2, honestly. But I wanted to give it a winter theme.

There is a short story that will follow after this commentary that I based off of this picture.

This picture is for .

Story:

The blanket of winter muffled out his calls as he searched through the woods. His friend was one of his only kind in the world so foreign. The pressures of being unable to relate to anyone nor anything was so great. At least back in his home world he was not the only hedgehog who could walk up right and talk the human language.

A worry was settled inside Michelangelo's stomach. Every step that crunched in the snow made that worry twist into nausea that could only be cured by finding the one who had run off, proclaiming he only needed time to think. His brothers told him to wait, to allow the black and red hedgehog time to himself. This was hours ago, now the flurry of snow had managed to lay several inches upon the earth in only a half hour. The wind freezing him to the bone and all he could think of was how he needed to find his friend.

His foot slipped, his padded knee coming down hard on a hidden rock slick with ice. It hurt, the sting reminding him that he had yet to go numb. He tried calling out once more as he pushed himself off of the soft bed of white. Scrubbing snow flacks that clung to his eyes he squinted, there was a dark shadow nestled with in a thicket.

Moving forward, the snow started to lighten up, clumps sticking to his shell and mask.

"Shadow?" he asked with his chilled voice, throat hurting from the cold air.

Red eye peered up, surprise written on a face that was covered with dark fur. No one had ever come looking for him before. Everyone left him alone when ever he declared his departure. But this... turtle... he barely knew his name but he bared a blizzard for him?

Michelangelo grinned reaching with in the thicket, the sting of twisted branches scraping lightly against his arms seemed harsher than it would have been normally due to how cold he was. He tucked his hands under arms and lifted the three foot hedgehog out of the small shelter. Pulling the soft quills close he hug his friend, his body shivering as his breath came out white.

A three fingered hand stroked the quills on the back of Shadow's head. He felt the "loner" squirm, but he held fast as grunts and askance of "what are you doing?" filled his ears. He didn't care, he had his friend. He only spoke calmly, his voice still hoarse, "It's okay. Uncle Mikey's got you, it's okay."

After what felt like a life time, Shadow managed to get his arms free. He moved to push himself away, but instead, when that voice told him over and over that it was alright, that he was safe... He felt his eyes heat up, his wounded heart of loosing friends -of never being able to have any that he could rely on- that pain surged forth. And with those hands that he was so determined to push himself away with, he then, instead, embraced back.

Description
This is Uncle Mikey version 2, honestly. But I wanted to give it a winter theme.

There is a short story that will follow after this commentary that I based off of this picture.

This picture is for .

Story:

The blanket of winter muffled out his calls as he searched through the woods. His friend was one of his only kind in the world so foreign. The pressures of being unable to relate to anyone nor anything was so great. At least back in his home world he was not the only hedgehog who could walk up right and talk the human language.

A worry was settled inside Michelangelo's stomach. Every step that crunched in the snow made that worry twist into nausea that could only be cured by finding the one who had run off, proclaiming he only needed time to think. His brothers told him to wait, to allow the black and red hedgehog time to himself. This was hours ago, now the flurry of snow had managed to lay several inches upon the earth in only a half hour. The wind freezing him to the bone and all he could think of was how he needed to find his friend.

His foot slipped, his padded knee coming down hard on a hidden rock slick with ice. It hurt, the sting reminding him that he had yet to go numb. He tried calling out once more as he pushed himself off of the soft bed of white. Scrubbing snow flacks that clung to his eyes he squinted, there was a dark shadow nestled with in a thicket.

Moving forward, the snow started to lighten up, clumps sticking to his shell and mask.

"Shadow?" he asked with his chilled voice, throat hurting from the cold air.

Red eye peered up, surprise written on a face that was covered with dark fur. No one had ever come looking for him before. Everyone left him alone when ever he declared his departure. But this... turtle... he barely knew his name but he bared a blizzard for him?

Michelangelo grinned reaching with in the thicket, the sting of twisted branches scraping lightly against his arms seemed harsher than it would have been normally due to how cold he was. He tucked his hands under arms and lifted the three foot hedgehog out of the small shelter. Pulling the soft quills close he hug his friend, his body shivering as his breath came out white.

A three fingered hand stroked the quills on the back of Shadow's head. He felt the "loner" squirm, but he held fast as grunts and askance of "what are you doing?" filled his ears. He didn't care, he had his friend. He only spoke calmly, his voice still hoarse, "It's okay. Uncle Mikey's got you, it's okay."

After what felt like a life time, Shadow managed to get his arms free. He moved to push himself away, but instead, when that voice told him over and over that it was alright, that he was safe... He felt his eyes heat up, his wounded heart of loosing friends -of never being able to have any that he could rely on- that pain surged forth. And with those hands that he was so determined to push himself away with, he then, instead, embraced back.