On that second of February, the sky was clear and bright, and the sun’s powerful rays were felt even below the ground’s surface. The groundhog lay asleep deep within its sand burrow, curled up like a cinnamon roll. Soil sprinkled its brown fur, resembling diamond dust as he dreamed of his father.

My son, I hope you understand that The Turn is an important rite of passage. If we did not do this, the seasons would cease to exist. However, have no fear of it, the dark shade that follows you everywhere. With this act, we help keep time turning for us and the world. When your turn comes, recite this spell with your shadow and fulfill your destiny.

The groundhog awoke and yawned while stretching his pudgy body. He pulled out a golden pocket timepiece with a sun symbol carved into it handed down to him from his great-great-grandfather and checked the time.

Good. Fifteen minutes to seven o’clock, that’s plenty of time to get ready. I’ll study the spell several more times before I go out to keep it fresh in my memory.

He took the path that led toward the surface.

It won’t be long now. It’s already been a year since The Turn, but that’s what happens when you grow older. Judging by the warmth overhead, the sun is out, so my shadow will be out and about. I’ll be ready for him.

At last, his paws reached the topsoil and emerged from a round hole that dotted the countryside at the woodlands’ edge. In the distance, rabbits ate grass seasoned with fresh dewdrops, a colony of ants busily brought tidbits of food into their domain, and small birds flew and chirped to greet their playground of the sky.

He looked at the timekeeper again; it was six-fifty-eight.

Shadow, I’m ready whenever you are.

A minute passed, and all the other animals suddenly abandoned the field in the blink of an eye. The groundhog was the only one left until the shadow appeared behind his back.

“Greetings. You made it.” It said without moving its mouth.

The woodchuck smirked. “Don’t I always? To think it’s already been one year, time seems to fly by.”

“In my domain, it remains the same, but after the ritual, it’ll be nice to experience your version again.”

The groundhog chuckled. “You’re pretty eager to start.”

“Of course I am.”

“Did you remember your watch?”

“Yes, right here.” The shadow pulled out an obsidian pocket watch with a crescent moon etched into it.

“Good, now let’s begin.”

Both groundhogs’ clocks chimed the seventh hour, and the bright sky turned dark.

The naked cosmos was made visible above them, freed from the shield of blue the Earth put around itself.

Together, the two animals clasped their watches and recited the spell.

“Of weather of cold, snow, and gray,

Tell us now if for longer you’ll stay.

Or spring that gives us life this year,

Tell us now if early you appear.

We are a groundhog and a shadow.

Please entreat us to what you know

About what kind of weather will it be?

And who shall live it, him or me?”

A bright light flashed before them. When it was over, the rabbits cautiously returned to graze, and the birds whistled in the trees.

The groundhog rubbed his eyes and looked at his obsidian-colored watch, which read one minute after seven. He scratched his furry ears. Behind him, his shadow stirred in silence. He smiled and began to forage for food to store for the next six weeks of winter.