won't they be cold now?

My brother raised a flock of enormous turkeys one year. The bell eventually tolled for them, and my mother and I were plucking them, up to our elbows in feathers. My little daughter had been playing with her cousins and wandered past. "Won't they be cold now?" she asked. Not where they're going, I thought to myself. I don't remember how I answered, only that I murmured something vague and reassuring. Ahh childhood, when the simple is complex, and the complex, simple.