The island was quiet. The migratory birds had all left, the hibernators were asleep, and everyone else had begun their simple winter routines. Everyone but Roz. Now that she was alone, our robot didn't know what to do with herself. She stood in her gray garden and watched a sheet of ice slowly form on the pond. Sometimes she could hear her good friends the beavers going about their business beneath the ice, and she wondered when she would see them again.

Roz stood there until snowflakes started drifting down from the sky. The flakes swirled in the breeze and slowly piled up on the ground and on the trees and on the robot. So she crouched into the Nest, slid the stone door behind her, and sat in darkness.

Hours, and days, and weeks went by without the robot moving. She had no need to move; she felt perfectly safe in the Nest. And so, in her own way, the robot hibernated.

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