His name is Frederick. Never Freddie or simply Fred. He is what you’d call a loner, spending his days, for the most part, under a log where it’s dry. Thin rays of sunshine filter in first thing in the morning and help to get his blood going. He rarely runs into anyone else and when he does, he gently and slowly toddles away so as not to interrupt his train of thought. Right now he’s working hard on an all-encompassing theory of everything, one that includes the mystery of where the comfort of summer lives when the bite of winter takes hold.