The Prick of the Hedgehogs

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A certain number of hedgehogs dwelt there under the protection of a benevolent nature, which adopted them here. They were unsteady when winter presented with her bitter fangs, clamping at their joints and limbs in the darkness. One of them thought perhaps they should pile on top of each other more closely, heating each other with their bodies.

However, because the hedgehogs all wanted to huddle and turn to keep warm, they would feel the pricks of resentment on each other’s spines. They began moaning in pain, unbearable to listen to, and they all pleaded us back into their contorted subpostures. The chill of the cold was much better than that god-awful pricking from all those tiny spiky lines. Thus the hedgehogs took their distances — as before.

However, the harsh winter cold soon shook them violently, and it seemed as if they had forgotten the pain of the prickling they had just endured. Some of them called out to gather again for warmth. But once more, the spines pricked them, and they grew frustrated. Again, they spread apart — back and forth, drawing…