It is our third litter. I am a well-trained father now. I returned in my 3rd winter to my Unique, she had stayed with Naira despite the heat. We moved to the top of the mountain. More and more pikas crowd nearer and nearer to our den. I am well challenged to defend my home. I still have the scars. Slowly the Pikas have begun to eye me with respect, and before long, they look to me for help and guidance. I look to Unique to help me. I watch my children grow, knowing they are living for nothing. For a change is coming, the heat is steadily becoming unbearable. Pikas come to me, begging for help on how to gather food when it is so hot. The hawks watch us; I think they know we have nowhere to go. Everyday, it seems, we lose someone. There is a mad scrabble in fall to find food before winter hits.