A cute story with some truth to it.
Jaspar Fuzzy-Breeks, Jarl of Sofar, Chare, and the Boxen Isles, stretched. Winter had come to Ut-Garden, bringing cold and damp to the very sill of his hall. And, as they did every year, the thumb-giants had failed to drive it back.
Una the Deep Meowing counselled yowling at the winter, but Jaspar favoured a different course. He would sleep until the thumb-giants opened the door of Nom. Then he would feast and fight until the hour when the thumb-giants settled back onto their resting places.
The moment they did, he would steal the thumb-giant’s heat.
And then sleep some more.